Every Christmas, I fly to England and am instantly amazed at how everyone appears to be better dressed than in New York. Then, a couple of weeks later, I move on to Copenhagen where the average citizen puts Britain to shame. Danes look immaculate. Miserable. But immaculate.

It’s particularly hard not to feel inadequate in Copenhagen. Not only is everyone taller, leaner, fitter and better looking than you, they also have a great sense of style. Their clothes are stylish, their homes are stylish, their shops are stylish. Even the street kiosks that sell pølser, a type of Danish hot dog, look stylish. (Hell, even the bloody sausages look like they might have been designed by Arne Jacobsen.)

So, only a city like Copenhagen could provide enough material for a site like Copenhagen Cycle Chic, post after post of lean, fit, good-looking Danes peddling effortlessly through the city on sleek, curved, and very retro-looking bicycles, seemingly without a care in the world. Even their baskets and trailers, and the sub zero temperatures, don’t seem to slow them down.

Copenhagen Cycle Chic via Manhattan Users Guide

Living in Brooklyn one of our greatest sources of pride is Prospect Park, generally regarded among friends as the superior cousin to Central Park.

Not only was Prospect Park designed after Central Park—and is therefore devoid of all the deficiencies inherent in an earlier model—it is also predominantly a local park for local people.

It takes a lot to make us Brooklynites hop on the subway on a holiday weekend when the temperature has hit 80F and head to Central Park. But the other week, while working on a story, I met one of New York’s earliest freestyle Frisbee players who invited me and William to join him in Central Park for some jamming lessons.

More on that at a later date but my thanks to him. And my Memorial Day gift to you, this video of some freestyle players jamming in the Sheep Meadow of Central Park on Saturday.

Since EiNY appears to be veering towards the realm of personal confessions this week I might as well add that my sporting inability is easily matched by my musical incompetence.

I failed miserably at mastering the violin, the keyboard and the recorder. My singing sucks. I trust my ear so little that I often ask people around me whether the singer I am listening to is good or not, although rather than straight out asking I generally use a tactically placed question mark such as “she’s quite good, isn’t she?” or “is it me, or is he slightly off?”

All of which is an elongated introduction to Stephane Wrembel, a gypsy jazz guitarist who never ceases to amaze me with his performances at Barbes, a local bar here in Brooklyn. Take a look at part of his performance last night. He’s good, isn’t he?

Next Sunday is Stephane’s last night at Barbes of 2005. Barbes is on the corner of 9th street and 6th Avenue in Park Slope. Entry is free. Suggested donation for the band is $8. And best of all, whiskey is only $5. More movies here and here (my camera’s limit is three minutes!). And check out Stephane’s website for downloads and gigs.

One bedroom apartments in Brooklyn are not renowned for their size and our apartment is no exception (although we are fortunate to occupy the parlour floor of a Brownstone). Therefore, having six Danish guests (two adults, four children) can be troublesomemake things a little crowded. That is the situation here at the moment, and my excuse for the light blogging which will take place over the next few days. But before I sign off to get as much work done as possible before out Viking visitors return, a few words (and a video clip) about Wednesday night…

Celebrate Brooklyn was one of the highlights of life in New York last year. It is an annual event in our local Prospect Park, with outdoor concerts and movies once or twice a week for a $3 (suggested donation) entry fee. Wednesday’s opener was Rickie Lee Jones whose song Chuck E’s in Love (captured here on my camera) may sound familiar. Geekier readers may be interested to know that, according to this Wikipedia entry, she is also the female vocal on The Orb’s Little Fluffy Clouds.