Around the World: The Dark Side

April 23, 1992

Jane and I went to our favourite bar/cafe/restaurant this morning and had a delicious brunch.  After a long and slow wander through parks and along canals we end up back to the hostel.  My camera, some film, the photos of my trip so far and some money are packed in my day bag, ready for a late afternoon picnic. We plan to slowly make our way back to The Grasshopper for a late dinner.

I see Jane having trouble with the locker.  I put my day bag on my bed and go to help her cram her luggage into the locker.  While I'm pushing on the door, trying to get it closed so Jane can get the lock on it, I see someone walk past carrying a bag that looks very similar to mine. 

Lock in place, I return to my bed to find my day bag is missing.

I race down the stairs in hopes of finding the culprit either still in the hostel or out on the streets, but my search is in vain.  My bag, all my photos, my camera.  Gone.

tear by mebilia on deviantART

Jane didn't see the person walk past.  When she finally catches up to me, I am pacing in a panic outside the hostel.  Trying to explain what has happened is more than I can bear.  She hugs me comfortingly while I mourn the loss of a journey's worth of memories on her shoulder.

• ¤ •

“Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more chance to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever? If so, then you know you can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back.”

~Mitch Albom

Around the World: Amsterdam

April 22, 1992

Amsterdam is a sight seeing dream.  I went through two rolls of film snapping photos of statues, boats on the canals, bicycles, buildings, trees and flowers.  Everything is so interesting.

Jane and I went on an exploring wander in no particular direction, stopping at the occasional coffee shop to rest and refuel.  We spent hours walking and enjoying the sights and smells of Spring in Amsterdam.

Febo kroquette.  Nom nom nom.

The discovery of the febo, we agree, is the greatest invention of fast food distribution.  Behind a wall of little windows are cooks preparing individual portions of tasty treats.  Customers can browse and purchase freshly made food that is replaced as the windows empty.  Brilliant!  I took a chance and picked a breaded, tube shaped snack, called kroquette.  It's stuffed with a minced filling that tastes like a turkey dinner.  Something this delicious can't possibly be good for you, but I'm going back for more anyway.

Photo by Helen Olney

Amsterdam takes personal and lifestyle choices to a new level of tolerance.  If it doesn't hurt anybody and no one is being a nuisance, it's generally not a problem.  The city has that easy going air about it. Nothing is worth losing your head over.

• ¤ •

"Toleration is the greatest gift of the mind; it requires the same effort of the brain that it takes to balance oneself on a bicycle."

~Hellen Keller

Around the World: Sex, Drugs and Bicycles

April 21, 1992

I arrived in Amsterdam yesterday afternoon.  The hostel is busy, but still had a few beds available and I was able to get one for myself in the dorm and reserve another for Jane's arrival later today.  Yay!

Amsterdam, what a fantastical place!  Idyllic cobblestone paths that line a grid of canals mixed with the crowds of urban existing.  The liberal attitude toward sex and soft drugs makes for an interesting walk through the area.  Parents watch their children play in parks, tourists meander along the canals as they visit the many coffee shops offering a selection of marijuana that can be chosen from a menu, women pose in windows at all hours of the day and night waiting for interested men seeking their services.  It's all so orderly, socially acceptable and openly displayed.  Quite a difference from the "war on drugs" and street corner prostitution in the shadows of night that I'm used to.

Amsterdam.  Sex, drugs...

The attitude at home is that selling sex and using drugs is bad, a scourge of society that leads to crime and other terrible things.  Yet, as I get my bearings in a strange city, carrying a backpack and walking around with a map, I am an obvious target for anyone looking to take advantage.  I don't feel any less safe here than I would at home.   In fact, I feel safer here than I have felt in many of the other places I've been.

The people in the busy hostel keep to themselves.  Beyond civil pleasantries, it's hard to strike up a conversation with anyone.  I stuff my bag into a locker and head off to Schiphol, Amsterdam's International Airport to meet Jane.

... and bicycles

Jane is jet lagged and a little disoriented, trying to take in a new place on only a few hours sleep.  We return to the hostel to tuck her bags into a locker before planning a quiet day acclimatizing to a new place and a new time zone.  We pick up some picnic supplies for a relaxing day in a nearby park.

• ¤ •

“Some tourists think Amsterdam is a city of sin, but in truth it is a city of freedom. And in freedom, most people find sin.”

~John Green