Outdoor lifestyles seen through the garden gate
If you look around a Danish city or view a residential area from above, you'll notice a common feature: balconies and terraces, decorated for socializing or relaxing moments, and often adorned with potted plants. A Dane would consider it an extra room.
I’d go as far as to say, that every newly built apartment block in Denmark has balconies, and in several older blocks, they are frequently added, usually facing away from the street for more privacy. Balconies are so popular that if you enter an apartment without one, the owner often mentions it’s absence with a hopeful wish to have one soon, almost as if offering an excuse. Many apartment blocks in Denmark are built around a central courtyard which often contains green space with areas to hang out and park your bicycle. These courtyards, if well-designed, can feel like hidden gems, offering a chance to develop community across apartments. Yet it’s not so uncommon to live so individually that you don’t know your neighbors.
In my experience, the role of balconies is quite different in Japan. My initial thought is to say that there aren’t any, but that’s not true. Many houses and apartments do have balconies, I just haven't seen anyone enjoying them. Instead, it seems that the main resident of the balcony is the laundry. Always laundry, as Japanese people do laundry to a degree like no one else as cleanliness seems a core value in the culture. Occasionally, the balcony shares space with potted flowers or storage items. However, balconies in Japan also often seem to not be built for enjoyment. For example, an air conditioner box placed in the middle of the floor can prohibit any use of the balcony, or high walls around the balcony may restrict the view.
I recently lived with a Japanese friend. One day, the weather was lovely - sunny but not too warm. After doing my laundry, she showed me her balcony on the first floor. I was surprised at how spacious it was. It was empty, only occupied by a hanging rack and the air conditioner box on the floor. I felt my excitement rise and a desire to use it on this lovely day, so I asked her why she hadn’t furnished it. She had several reasons: the floor was uneven, it’s too hot in the summer, too windy on other days, and she didn’t have any furniture. I couldn’t help but think that a Dane would have found solutions to these issues and turned the space into a small haven for outdoor relaxation. And so, it happens every time I ask my Japanese friends about their outdoor spaces, they giggle and lists several reasons for why it’s not practical, leaving me baffled.
While balconies and courtyards in Denmark are designed to foster community and connection, gardens serve as personal sanctuaries. In Japan, where courtyards and balconies prioritize practicality, gardens take on a different practical matter.
Garden life
The contrast between Denmark and Japen extends to gardens as well.
In Japanese cities, houses rarely have gardens due to dense construction and large populations. Sometimes there is a small patch of grass, sometimes just a paved area around the house. Walking through small villages in the countryside, properties tend to have larger gardens, but I haven't come by a single terrace built for enjoyment. Instead, I admire the well-organized vegetable gardens and fruit orchards, as well as the ever-beautiful scenery of rice fields, sustaining the families. You notice elderly people working in the fields, either sitting down in a squad position completely covered from the sun or standing bent over in a position that almost makes my back ache by just observing it. A reminder of the depopulation of rural areas with younger generations moving into the cities.
By contrast, most Danish houses come with a garden. Some are large, some are small, but many Danish families specifically seek homes with gardens where children or pets can run freely. They want space for outdoor activities and hobbies, and a view of nature from the inside, —a feature seen as enhancing quality of life. With a garden comes, of course, a terrace usually made of either wooden or tiles, and furnished with tables, chairs, or even lounge sets—an extra "room" meant for enjoyment during the warmer months. Besides that, a typical Danish garden consists of a lawn, flower beds, maybe a vegetable garden. In the summer, it’s common to see kids playing, jumping on trampolines, and adults gathered on the terrace all to the smell of a barbecue meal being served outside. In general, it’s very popular to fill your home with plants and flowers to also create greenspaces inside that can make your interior and design more alive.
In comparison to this practical use of outdoor spaces in Denmark, it’s worth appreciating how Japan views nature itself - not just as a space to be in, but as an art form to admire.
While balconies and courtyards in Denmark are designed to foster community and connection, gardens serve as personal sanctuaries. In Japan, where gardens and balconies prioritize practicality, the artistic Japanese gardens take on a more artistic and spiritual role.
Japanese Gardens, a living art
We can’t talk about Japanese outdoor spaces without mentioning their famous artistic gardens bringing beauty and aesthetics to both locals and tourists in Japan. These have been refined for over centuries, developed in various styles for different purposes, such as strolling gardens for the recreation of feudal lords and dry-stone gardens for religious use by monks. They often include pagodas, stone lanterns, lakes and bridges all arranged according to aesthetic principles that evoke calm and spirituality. The Japanese word for garden, Niwa (庭), even means ‘pure place’. I have been fortunate to visit some of them, including the famous Kenrokuen in Kanazawa and Rokuon-ji in Kyoto. In Kanazawa, there’s free entrance from 4:00 to 5:30 AM, and a local friend recommended I visit during those hours to avoid the selfie-taking crowds. I took her advice and spent two mornings strolling through the garden in the soft morning light, sitting on a bench with tea in hand, admiring a beautiful bonsai tree by the lake. I can personally attest to the overwhelming sense of calm and purity that these spaces evoke. In Denmark, we also have beautiful parks recreated with flower beds, ponds, and lovely places to rest. However, they don’t do Japanese Gardens justice.
On a smaller scale, I also see this same attention to detail in the gardens surrounding traditional wooden Japanese homes. Here, bonsai trees, pruned bushes, and carefully placed stones create a sense of order and beauty, though the perfection can sometimes feel almost cold or distant. A Japanese friend once told me, "Japanese gardens are meant to be observed”. This aligns with the design of traditional homes, where an *engawa*—a timber-floored corridor—wraps around the house, offering an indoor-outdoor connection. On good weather days, the sliding doors are meant to be opened so one can sit with a cup of tea and simply watch the garden change with the seasons, she said. To me, that’s a beautiful expression, leaving me with admiration and highlighting the way a traditional Japanese garden can be seen as an art piece of mindfulness and appreciation for nature’s cycles.
A place where we might come closer to using outdoor spaces in an aesthetic way is the greenhouse. For some people, it has evolved from simply being a space for growing vegetables into an aesthetic retreat, often referred to as an 'orangeri'. The idea originates from French castles where you needed a place for your plants during wintertime but was found out to also have value for humans. Decorated with light, comfortable furniture and filled with tropical plants, this special oasis can create harmony between outdoor and indoor living and enjoy the sight and smell of plants that require light and warmth all year round. I once saw a therapist who did her sessions in an Orangeri, and I believe that being in nature, rather than a boring, white and gray office, has a positive influence on a person's healing process. can have a positive effect for your treatment Some of them are even attached to the houses, making it possible to enjoy this peaceful, nature-filled space without leaving home. In contrast, I have only seen Japanese greenhouses used for farming purpose.
While Japanese Gardens stand as testaments to nature’s beauty and the residential setting as a practical space for farming or laundry, their role in daily life is far more passive compared to the way Danes actively integrate outdoor spaces into their routines.
Cultural and environmental factors behind the differences
The way outdoor spaces are utilized and appreciated in Denmark and Japan reflects deeper cultural values and lifestyles. Danish outdoor spaces are designed for active use, socialization, and integration with nature, enhancing daily life. Japanese outdoor spaces, on the other hand, emphasize practicality, convenience, and the aesthetic appreciation of nature as an art form. But why this difference?
Is the weather an inconvenience?
Environmental factors play a role, particularly in relation to weather conditions. As Japan can be very hot and (very) humid in the summer, and experiences a rainy season, the weather can make outdoor spaces less comfortable for extended use even though the country spans multiple climate zones, so the weather can vary depending on location. For instance, summers in Hokkaido, in northern Japan, don’t seem as hot compared to the rest of the country, but it still doesn’t seem to change how outdoor spaces are used. Meanwhile, Denmark’s cooler, more temperate climate might make spending time outside more pleasant, although it's described as *omskifteligt* (changeable). It’s not uncommon to experience both rain and sun in the same day shifting on and off, which can be inconvenient. In fact, it rains an average of 171 days a year. That doesn’t leave many days for enjoying the outside spaces.
Additionally, Japan’s focus on cleanliness, order, and convenience might explain why outdoor areas are used less for leisure. My Japanese friends often cite convenience as the reason for not utilizing their outdoor spaces. Convenience is a recurring theme in Japanese culture. Whether it’s choosing umbrellas over raincoats to deal with the rain, as I’ve mentioned in my previous blog post Rainy Reflections, or avoiding outdoor spaces due to conditions that are too hot, too windy, or too cold, convenience frequently dictates these choices. People prefer the comfort of indoor spaces, where they can better control their environment. In a culture where appearance is important, I wonder how well that aligns with spending time outside in all kinds of weather. I can’t help to think about how these choices extend beyond gardens and balconies and into everyday behavior during hot summer days when the Japanese people tend to stay inside. In contrast to Denmark, where even the slightest glimpse of the sun brings people outside, I’ve noticed that many Japanese prefer staying indoors during summer days. The curtains are often drawn to block out the harsh sunlight, creating a cool, dim atmosphere inside—sometimes so dark that you have to turn on the lights, which feels strange to me when such beautiful daylight is available right outside the window. I’ve also noticed that Japanese houses either have very few, small windows or large, floor-to-ceiling ones that are covered by curtains or shutters, both of which prevent sunlight from entering and bringing life into the room. This practice reflects not only a preference for comfort but perhaps also an appreciation for the calm and serenity of enclosed, private spaces.
In that matter, Danes are more willing to brave the cold temperatures of early spring when the sun finally peeks through after a long, dark winter. You’ll often find us sitting outside in winter coats, wrapped in blankets, with a hot drink or perhaps enjoying the season’s first outdoor beer—maybe even gathered around a fire. There’s nothing quite like the first spring sun, when you can feel its warmth on your face. My husband, who is from Canada, made an early observation during his first spring in Denmark. He noticed how Danes on the street, waiting at a crosswalk, or sitting in their gardens would stop talking, close their eyes, and turn their faces towards the sun. It took him a little while to understand this tendency. If you’ve ever driven past a field of sunflowers, you know they always try to turn their heads toward the sun. Hence, he affectionately calls Danes "sunflowers" during the spring, as we seem to wait all winter for the chance to bloom again. In this sense, perhaps we are better at adapting to the climate we’re given, using various accessories to make it *hyggeligt* (cozy).
Hygge
I believe this also ties into the world-famous Danish concept of *hygge*—a version of coziness that we Danes take pride in. *Hygge* can take many forms. Often, it’s associated with being indoors on a cold winter’s day, wrapped in blankets, sipping tea while sitting on comfortable furniture with dim lighting and candles lit. It could be a social gathering with close friends or family, or maybe it's quality time spent alone with a good book. At the same time, *hygge* can also be found outdoors, like during our charming, long, light summer evenings, which is something I cherish deeply about our season and always miss when I’m abroad. A long summer evening spent with good friends in the garden, enjoying food and drinks, maybe with some chill music or the sound of nature and the smell of grilled food. Time for garden games, laughter, and good moments. Or, a routine I personally value, is my morning coffee on my balcony in the sun, where the gentle morning light helps wake my eyes and mind, getting me ready for the day ahead. That highlights how nature plays a part in outside hygge where especially the light, I believe, is a key factor for us whereas the darkness and rain encourage to indoor hygge. I believe many Danes recharge by being in nature, and we often talk about how nature provides a space where we can be present and express ourselves as the genuine, spontaneous people we are. I think this is a key reason why outdoor living is such an integral part of our daily lives and why our homes are designed to accommodate these values.
Collectivism vs. individualism
All of this brings me back to the larger cultural question: how much of our relationship with outdoor spaces is shaped by the balance between collective harmony and individual freedom? A theme that will reappear in my blog posts because I feel it explains much of our behavior and sparks interesting reflections. In Japan, maintaining harmony in public and shared spaces is a cultural priority, and this mindset extends to how people interact with outdoor spaces. The idea is to minimize inconvenience for others. In Denmark, however, individuality is encouraged, and outdoor spaces are used to enhance personal and family life. With that in mind, it makes sense that the Japanese don’t use their balconies in the same way Danes do, as balconies occupy a curious space between private and public. Whatever you discuss on your balcony, the music you play, watering your plants, or grilling a meal, inevitably you share these experiences with your neighbors, which at times can’t help but be an inconvenience—though not always. I can imagine that this potential inconvenience is enough to discourage the Japanese from using outdoor areas as much. I assume the same applies to gardens, especially in cities where houses are close together.
In Denmark, by contrast, there’s a stronger emphasis on individual use of outdoor spaces, where gardens and terraces are more functional for the individual or family unit, allowing for hobbies, barbecues, or gatherings. Yet this does lead to interesting discussions about the blurred lines between private and shared outdoor spaces. What’s acceptable to do on your balcony, and what isn’t? Should there be guidelines for when noise is allowed, and what activities are appropriate? Even though it’s part of your private property, you’re still in a shared building with many other residents, which inevitably requires compromise and a consideration for collective living. I once lived in a housing cooperative where barbecuing on balconies was banned because most residents felt that the smell of food wafting from other balconies into their homes or windows was disruptive. As someone who loves food and the smell of cooking, I found it difficult to understand this perspective and would always oppose it. But as part of the collective, I had to compromise and give up one of my favorite summer activities. Another amusing cultural difference, especially relevant in liberal Scandinavia, is the custom of sunbathing on balconies, which many Danes do. How much or how little clothing is appropriate, if any? Is it up to the individual, or should we consider the comfort of the neighbors? Can people just turn the other way, or is it disrespectful to do something that others might find inappropriate? Can people simply close their windows if someone nearby is grilling, or should everyone have the right to keep their windows open on a summer day? From experience, I know that in well-functioning homeowners' associations, collective rules tend to comply more with regulations, as there’s a shared purpose to create space for everyone. When residents know each other, they also tend to feel a greater sense of responsibility. In contrast, some associations struggle with disagreements among residents, where each person insists on their individual right to express their freedom according to their own ideas of what’s appropriate. But how would that look in Japan? I don’t imagine Japanese people would be as assertive or individualistic in their approach, especially considering how important harmony and avoiding inconvenience are in public spaces.
I could go on with examples, all of which illustrate that our gardens or balconies are a blend of the private and the shared. This creates dilemmas and should encourage reflection on the balance between collective and individual needs, leading to discussions on when one should take precedence over the other, or if it’s about finding a balance between the two. Overall, my impression is that Danes take a more individual approach to their outdoor spaces, aiming to use them in a way that enhances their quality of life, which results in a greater use of these areas.
These contrasts highlight the unique ways in which different cultures interact with their environments, shaping their homes and lifestyles accordingly. Whether it's the cozy embrace of a Danish terrace or the serene stillness of a Japanese garden, these spaces reflect deeper cultural values: social and personal freedom versus collective harmony, and the practical versus the artistic. As I continue exploring these differences, I find myself appreciating how each culture's approach to outdoor life offers a unique way to engage with nature - whether as an active participant or a quiet observer. But with that said, I do miss immensely to sit on a balcony with a coffee or a meal while enjoying the weather instead of looking at it through the window.
In my next column, I’ll explore how these cultural differences extend beyond private spaces and into public areas. From Denmark’s vibrant parks and urban gathering spots to Japan’s carefully maintained public spaces, the ways we use and interact with outdoor areas reveal even more about our collective and individual priorities.