I made a sincere and heartfelt promise to my dear friend Willemijn in the June of 1997 that I would one day come to the Netherlands to visit her homeland. I didn't ever expect that it would take me quite as long as it did to get there...but life seems to have that 'getting in the way' part about it.
Willemijn nowadays is based in the city of Utrecht, and although my plans for the Autumn half term break was to get there to see her, and then on to Brussels to see another old pal of mine, Celine, there was someone else I wanted to see.
My old pal,
Last I'd heard, Breezy was living in Amsterdam, after his brief, yet wild, stint in London. I'd missed him here in the capital by only a matter of months, and I was desperate to see and reconnect with my soul brother once again.
I sent Breezy e-mails in the weeks leading up to the term break, passing on my number and itinerary outline, to which I'd had no response. A girl he worked with had actually contacted me with her details, explaining Breezy didn't have a working phone, so I could try her number...
And so in my first Hollandaze destination, The 'Dam, it was my mission to find him... or hopefully by chance or miracle, he would find me.
Thankfully, the school's inset day was done and dusted by 1pm on the afternoon of Friday the 23rd of October, and I made it back to Battersea to collect my bags, and then on to Clapham Junction Station to meet Josh with plenty of time up my sleeve. From CJ, we hit up the Gatwick Express train, and had checked in with enough time for Mexican grub and pre-flight brews.
We hit the ground running once we landed at Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport, as it was after 9pm local time by this stage, and we needed to make it into town and hook up our accommodation. From the airport, we caught the train into Amsterdam Central station, conveniently located at the top end of the city's Red Light District.
The place was swarming with folks, bikes a plenty and the sweet smell of pot in the air...and I could feel Breezy. All around it was him.
After a few false starts, we decided to go back and execute my original plan, which was to catch the 1,3,5 or 15 tram, and get off at the designated spot...and proved to be a far better choice than wandering aimlessly. Soon after 10pm, we had located the Cosmos Hostel and had checked into our mixed dorm. The proprietor imparted some rather sound advice about making sure that we'd had something to eat before embarking on a session of drinking or smoking, and the proceeded to very kindly hand over his business card in the case we got too drunk or whatever, and couldn't find our way back. At first, I found the gesture to be kind, but unnecessary...however, as I was to learn throughout my first Amsterdam experience, it is the street and city's circle structure, rather than (or perhaps combined with...) the drug and alcohol consumption that can make bearings and directions difficult to 'get your head around' (I use this term looooosely).
Once Josh had showered and combed his 'tash, we began to make our way out into the action- via the 'Homegrown' Cafe close by our hostel, for the purchase of some local goods- and then out and into the city centre. We stopped by a brightly lit fair, right next to the War Memorial in Dam Square, and it was here we hit up the first of many bars over the course of the weekend, bought a beer and asked the ridiculously good looking bar staff which way to walk...which led us to Rembrandt Square.
We sat down in the front of a bar that overlooked the square, and Josh ventured in side to order up shots and brews to kick us along, while I watched the cool Euro hispter kids lining up for a dance party gig at the club next door- one of many happening throughout the city over the weekend (was slightly annoyed to have only discovered this once I read one of the poxy EasyJet back-of-the chair booklets).
Feeling a bit yawny, and really needing the jagermeister , I reached for my phone from in the back pocket of my jeans to check the time, and found I had a missed call and a message, which had been left only minutes earlier.
The number didn't register on my phone, but the voice most certainly did when I retrieved the message.
Breezy!
I was ecstatic to know he had my number, and to hear his nasally voice shouting my name joyfully down the line, welcoming me to the maddest place on earth. He said he wanted to find me, and that he'd call back within in the hour. I left my phone on the table so as not to miss his call, dropped the jagermeister down and kicked back for a bit. More drinks, fries with green pepper sauce, and still no call back. It was getting close to 2am by this stage, and we decided to head back to a cafe I'd spotted quite near Cosmos to sample the local produce, and laugh our asses off. After a while, I thought I'd collected my self enough to go back to Cosmos, and retire for the evening, knowing there was much I wanted to do in The 'Dam the following morning...but of course, once we made it inside the hostel, I realised I was in no state whatsoever to retire, and the stairs in the crazy hostel made me feel like I was in my very own version of Fear and Loathing...
Josh and I tried, Lord, how we tried to get out of the hallway and into our separate dorms to go to bed, but we were hysterical. When I finally stopped laughing, started breathing and talking like a civilised human being, I told Josh there was no way I could go into my room in such a state, and suggested we sit down stairs on the couches at the check in desk for a bit. I sent Josh down first, and told him to buy some munchies whilst I dried my tears and composed myself enough to get back down those stairs.
Oh my goodness...That poor guy behind he desk. I shudder to think how many wasteoids he has to deal with on a hourly, daily basis...however... So, there we sat with some stroopwafels, watching the soccer, hangin' with the guy behind the desk and the hostel cat, until I reeled it back in enough to go to bed!
The following morning, Josh woke me up around nine o'clock, just as I'd requested. I threw my Chucks on, and we walked out under the rainy Amsterdam skies, on a quest for pancakes. Once found and consumed, we wandered throughout the streets, over bridges and canals, and made our way to Anne Frank Huis.
I read The Diary of Anne Frank when the summer came after I completed my Year 12 exams, and I was free to read whatever I chose. I was deeply moved my this profound and unforgettable text, and never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would one day have the opportunity to visit her hiding place, and the only way to describe being there was (and please pardon the cliche), surreal.
To walk up the stairs into the Secret Annex, to touch the stair rails, to brush my arm across the basins in the bathroom and touch the coat hooks in the hallway, was an experience beyond words- this was once Anne's silent little space, the place from where she recorded the timeless literary legacy she has left for this world- I was deeply saddened by the dark curtains on the back windows, Peter's designated space and the board game he was given for his birthday...and I must admit that tears did well in my eyes when I looked up and saw the chestnut tree through the attic's glass window.
Throughout the house, there is still physical evidence that Anne, her family and the others that took refuge in that building that are simply captivating- pictures of movie stars from the 30s and 40s, and other images of the natural world that Anne cut from magazines and glued to her bedroom wall, many photos of Anne as a young girl, and then the original diary itself.
Yet, it was just before I walked down the stairs to exit the museum, that I came to perhaps the most moving display of all- on a small screen TV a short clip of an interview with Anne's father, Otto. Mr. Frank expresses, in this excerpt, his disbelief and lack of awareness of Anne's deep and innermost feelings at the time the family was in hiding- and he concludes with the observation of how little most parents actually know their children. Heart breaking.
Somewhat sullen, somewhat uplifted, we walked for a while without saying much. It was raining by this stage, and so I bought a red umbrella from a street vendor, and found an internet cafe- hoping that I might have heard from Mr. Moriarty. I was very pleased to find that there was an e-mail- although not from Breezy, but rather one of his work mates-containing a phone number and address of his work place!
Josh and I decided to eat on our way to finding the Art & Smart Shop, and found a traditional Dutch pub , which was warm and cozy bar, and sold delicious pea and ham soup, and choice beers which we eagerly consumed. It didn't take me too long to find the Art & Smart Shop (no Art in sight by the way- unless of course you consider art work in the form of trips and smoking apparatus'), where I introduced myself to Amelie, but there was no sign of Breezy...
Amelie, was incredibly friendly, and informed me that there had been no sign of Breezy that day- and it was best to try and get a hold of his best mate, also going by the name of Dave- which I did immediately, only to be diverted to a message bank. I thought it best to leave my accomodation details with Amelie, in case he breazed by, and I kept my phone on, anxiously awaiting a call back.
From the Art & Smart Shop, we headed back to the Red Light District, and check out the ologatory when-in-the -Dam Sex Museum....which was quite an eye opener-some tasteful items, and some rather shocking...following close to an hour there, Josh and I walked back to the centre of town for some 'Cafe Culture'. I guess we were there til around 5 o'clock-watching some bogus soccer game and drinking vodka and lemonade. I had my phone sitting on the table the whole time...waiting and waiting for Breezy. Eternity...I couldn't miss him.
By the time I had my head right to make it out of the Cafe, I changed my phone to the vibrate function, and placed it into my back pocket. We proceeded to take a stroll along the canals, and down through the Red Light District. It was quite a surreal experience to see such a range of women, danicng and trying to entice men to come and open the glass doors they stood behind. I was told that if you got close enough to the windows, you could see the pimps sitting in the rooms up above them...
Around a quarter past 5, I took my phone from my back pocket, only to find that Breezy had called 5 times in the last 2 minutes- frantically, I tried to call back, only to be diverted to the answering machine once again...I don't have the words for the distress I felt!
So...we raced to the hostel to pull it together, me- hoping and praying Breezy would call back. I continuously shouted "CALL BACK!" at the phone. Feeling optimistic, I changed the phone setting to 'Outdoor', and squatted in the hall way of the hostel, holding the phone out before me, using all of my telepathy skills to contact Breezy...and then the phone started ringing!!!!!
BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
Turns out he'd been out the front of my hostel, and had tried to come in and enquire whether I was there. He told me he was a block away, and he would turn around and come back. I rushed into Josh's dorm to tell him Breezy was on the way, and I flew down the stairs, and out the front of Cosmos.., and I could hear "ANNNNGGGGGIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
At the end of the street, there he was, riding upon a rickety bicycle...a vision I won't be forgetting any time soon.
DEAN M, indeedy!
And finally, I was Sal Paradise.
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