My first walk to my apartment was a blur. Six hours on a plane, an hour on the ground, followed by three more hours in the air. I was beat. You could say my senses were far from sharp.

All I remember from my first walk is darting my head, excessively up and down, to re-read the directions sent by my airbnb host. Copenhagen could wait another day. I was just glad I made it. When I finally arrived my host gave me the run-down on the apartment. Ingrid, my host, is probably in her 70s and a proud grandmother of three children and many more grandchildren. She moved here decades ago because it was a pleasant, quiet area in the heart of the city center. Not so anymore. She warned: on the weekends the bars lining the courtyard play loud, base-thumping, building-shaking music late into the night. Two days later I found out she was not wrong. Good thing I'm a heavy sleeper.

To get to my apartment (or Ingrid's, rather) you have to go through a courtyard. The courtyard itself is a blend of old and new. As Ingrid explained to me, a few years ago they filled in what was a beautiful arcade to incorporate more bars. The new glassy facades contrast the old buildings' exposed lumber construction. Party posters flank the glass and murals fill old blank facades. It's cramped, dense, and the exact kind of spot you'd go to for a night out on the town. But it's not great for the residents that have lived here for decades. Noise and drunken fools abound.