Amsterdam was filthy, and not so much in the way it’s advertised. Although, that depends on what you call filthy. Anyway, I wasn’t talking about that, I mean the garbage.
Amsterdam, as advertised
The first thing I saw exiting the train station was a square full of blowing newspapers. A lonely apocalyptic scene, except there were people everywhere, and none of them seemed zombie like, I’d know, I’m qualified. It took me a day and a half to realize something strange was going on. The first person I asked said, “You know about the garbage strike, right?” Which made more sense than what I had assumed, so I felt apologetic for my leap. “I’m sorry, I thought maybe it was always like this.”
Garbage will swallow a city in a surprisingly short time
I tried to see beyond the garbage, but it wasn’t a landscape that appealed to me, narrow streets, and two dimensional canyon like architecture. But, the thousands of bikes and pedestrians produced a rhythm I liked, a people centric heart beat.
Plenty of people pour into Amsterdam to party, and it’s definitely a good place to do that. In fact, if letting your hair down is out the question, then Amsterdam is not for you, because there are certainly prettier places. However, if you are a little adventurous there are gems in the city for any taste. I saw some great street dancers1, talked to a DJ I liked2, saw great acts at a blues bar 3, and I watched a beautiful couple in a smokey coffee shop pull back from a deep kiss with an enviable mix of adoration and sex in their eyes.
This is a playground for all of Europe and it shows. My random wanderings planted me at a bar with a rainbow of beautiful people. I thought maybe they were shooting a United Colors of Benetton Ad in the place. I finished my beer and got out before someone saw me and started to point and laugh. I went looking for locals, and those I found, I really liked. They confirmed what I had already observed, locals are treated differently, there is a strong sense of community in Amsterdam, the tourists get the tacky candy coating.
The Anne Frank museum was one of the few that held any pull for me. It’s well done. There are hundreds of exihibits weaving throughout the house. The one that captivated me was a small square of paper pinned to the wall. Anna’s father used this tiny map to track the bits of news he got from the radio about the Allied progress.
Anne’s father planned to hide from the Nazi’s. He hid his family and some friends, seven people, for two years, until someone betrayed them, and they were all taken to concentration camps. Nine year old Anne, died in a camp believing the rest of her family was already dead. Months later her father was saved by the Allied liberation. He was the only surviving member of his family of four.
As I stood there, I thought of what it would be like to carry that weight and to look at the pins in that map everyday and hope help had made it to the next town. I think now that it would be a good recolection the next time I feel put out by something in my privileged life.
Footnotes
- The guy I talked to tried to explain to me that ElementaryForce was not his normal “crew”, but we were having language troubles. Anyway, it was some of these guys. I’ve always loved this sort of stuff, and my brief foray into the circus gives me an appreciation for how physically difficult these tricks are. [↩]
- The song that made me go talk to him was off Dr. Boondigga & the Big BW by Fat Freddy’s Drop. It’s electric jazzy reggae soul, sung by a rapping Maori Elvis. I recommend it. I love this album. [↩]
- All the video of these guys I found sounded like shit. They did this funky blues version of Prince’s Kiss, and I was surprised to hear a fairly thick Eastern Bloc accent when I spoke to the lead singer afterward. [↩]
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