Oh to be young again...

May 8th, 2006:

Lisse, Holland. A dreary Sunday afternoon turned into a day I'll always remember. I always encourage people not to laze the day away and to make it one we'll remember because there are too many days in our lives we never remember. So, on this grey and drizzly Dutch day, I encourage my friend to come with me to see the tulips, the famous Dutch tulips, before they wilt and die. We may never see them again...

Kees rents us bikes. We ride and stop to admire the ridiculous miles and miles of tulips. The colours are intense and vibrant and help against the grey backdrop. Contrasts of reds against greens that seem almost unnaturally intense. This is good, seeing something different and unique.

We get back late because we got a late start. Kees is waiting for us as we are the last fools to return our rented bikes. He asks us if we want to accompany him to Lisse, the small town nearby for a drink. He says he loves Canada and would like to talk about it. We both knew we didnt want to return to the boat right away and this would be much more interesting. How would we get there? In beautiful and typical Dutch style, Kees triple-rode us.

The small town square in Lisse was draped in greenery, trees, vines. Spring was definitely pushing. This reminded me of Europe, not like Rotterdam. Rembrandt's 'Anatomie' was displayed on a huge wall, made up entirely of hyacinth blooms. We had wine and tapas. Kees was joking that his son needed a good girl. I told him I was a bit old for his son.

It got late, Kees was having a good time being out, disrupting the routine. He had to triple-ride us back to his place as we had missed the last bus to the train station. In the dark we rode, on this narrow road alongside one of the millions of canals, the moon reflecting off the calm waters. The stillness occasionally broken by a coot. The stars were out and sparkling and a train accross the canal would occasionally roar by, leaving us afterwards in the silence and darkness, but for the glow of the moon. We swerved on the narrow road, tulips in hand, laughing nervously, hoping that this was going to end ok and not in the canal.

"I feel young again" Kees yelled out joyously. "You girls are making me feel young for one night". He recalls double riding his wife home in the dark when he was much younger. Im happy we could give Kees a memorable night, and recall his nostalgia, as Im beginning to question my existence here in the Nether regions.

Chem Trails

May 3rd:

Retrospect...

Lying on a bench near the canal - tired, watching the chemical criss-cross tracks of planes left in the sky. The crisp blue sky, clear delineated paths made by the silver tubes that contain hundreds of unsuspecting people, hurtling through the sky. I lie down and observe them crossing each other. Slowly today they eventually expand and fade, distant memories of an enormous undertaking. I get sleepy, my eyelids are heavy. I clench my purse and begin to dose under the vast Dutch sky. This sunshine and warmth are better for me than the boat now. I need this medecine.

My short-lived Happiness in a tale

May 2nd: In retrospect...

For a month I went missing. I was missing because I was happy - why? The sunshine. And the person who's smile and presence replaced the sun. My freedom to walk arm and arm at the market. We cross the bridge to the 'working-man's market'. Suddenly you are no longer in Holland as you imagine it. Here, we are in the South. The wild cries of prices for fresh produce, enticing colours, scents and sounds - its like a Turkish bazaar. But this is the market in Rotterdam. Functional crap from China everywhere interspersed with fresh ginger root, peppers from Surinam, Turkish spinach, bananas and plantains, fish everywhere. The sea is here! Dead of course, like a museum, but no one sees it that way. Its just food.

But I wonder where these fish swam. Somewhere far out in the deep, dark abyss of the ocean. The Atlantic? So cold...dark and lonely, except for the groups, the communities of fish. This is their world, their normality, taken away, hauled from their home, violently, miles and miles away, onto the stall where I now glance at their lifeless bodies. Mouths gaping, eyes wide and expressionless, on ice. Where were they swimming not long ago?

We move on, arm in arm and Im distracted by my hapiness, despite the cold, the neverending grey skies, the alienation and loneliness and confusion about my whereabouts.

To be in a foreign country, in an 'exotic' market with a new friend I happen to be enamoured by. I cant explain why. Arm in arm, a new acceptance of closeness not normally allowed back home without complicated implications. Here it is not complicated. Just a new friend to lean on because I am lonely and cold and he is warm. Here I stroll on the other side of the bridge, free and happy. Soaking up sights and smells and sounds, all foreign to me and different and colourful.

A seller remembers me from the tourist's market. Smiles cross my face, sometimes not. Sometimes its eye contact only and I try to burn my stare into someone, usually I cant hold a gaze very long without a quick glance away or to the ground.

Here my eyes are wide and fierce as I try and gather all that is around me as I know soon enough I will be back home, back into the familiar sights and sounds, busy cities, cars nearly running me over in a hurry to get nowhere fast. I miss home, but I want to soak this up. I want to learn more of the world and I want to hold on to this feeling of warmth without having to feel guilty or guarded. In a market in Rotterdam with a new friend I am happy for a minute.

Everyone is an Artist

May 1st:

A tall Gallician, one of the new actors on the boat. We talk about dolphins and whales in the Mediterranean. He gets the bartender to pour Havana Club with an exact amount of lemon juice, irritation radiating off of the barkeep. He is hitting me with some sort of electricity when he looks me in the eye. We talk about sunsets in Scotland.

The clouds here seem huge. Unobstructed by the tall buildings so familiar to our cities back home. The sky often looks like a canvas from another time. Nature, earth, she remains the same despite the shit we build.

He 'fancies everyone'. "Some romance this summer would be great" he says, while many are wary and reluctant. Some are open to the possibility of heaven with the risk of hell. Artists everywhere you go. Im not participating in all of that because I have someone back home who misses me. I drink the Havana Club and smile that Im not going to be a part of the games people will play in this company.