AMSTERDAM -4-

SECOND AMSTERDAM

5/26/2012

I leave our pleasant B&B with my friend. We head to the Central Station and part our ways there, she to the airport to head back to Turkey and I to “Lucky Lake Hostel” to explore second Amsterdam, way outside the canal ring, supposedly “surrounded with all blacks”. I take the Metro from Central Station to Gain on a 19 minute ride to Hollendrecht Station to catch a shuttle that is supposed to come every half hour. Yes, there are lots of black people on the metro, I chat with some of the women, they are pleasant. I observe some relating to their children or friends, they are loving and caring. I am trying to find a clue on their faces or attitudes to justify the disdain I saw on Alex’s face. None, nil. Alex, I am sorry, you lost me on this. I think I will have a fantastic week with and around these black people and you may be missing out something my friend.

I am just on time, a white van approaches me, it is my shuttle that will carry me every day from the lake to the metro and in the evening from the metro to the lake. A dark young man, Machee, from Poland with a big smile is my driver. Lots of world travelers find work in hostels of this sort, I will discover soon. Are they legal, are they not, I don’t ask, I don’t know. Another client for the shuttle turns out to be from Athens, Greece. I greet Yanis in Greek, he is pleasantly surprised. He is visiting his friend Maurio from Brasil, who will turn out to be another shuttle driver at the hostel. Maurio will tell me on one of our trips, he is 35 years old, has visited many countries including Portugal, Spain, France, and England; seems to be happy in Amsterdam for the time being… Just as I expected, I am already being exposed to young people from all over the world. This will be some unforgettable vacation, almost a journey around the globe without going anywhere, in one campground…

It indeed turns out to be a unique, modest but very sweet place. A hostel composed of old caravans surrounding a “courtyard”. Kitchen is under a big awning, the walls consist of thick vines with colorful flowers all reaching out to the sun. Roses of all colors, yellow, red, pink, purple, all with a deadly scent adorn the entire courtyard. I breath in rose air, everything is pristine clean. Smiles on faces are genuine. I meet Annabell from Quebec at the reception, who orients me to the place with a very friendly demeanor. Being able to get away from my professional persona, being treated by a woman in her late twenties as her equal is rejuvenating, subtracts couple of decades off my age. I meet a research scientist couple from India working in Germany at a huge research enterprise that plans to return to India to their families after 4-5 years. I meet 20 year-old Hanna from Germany, who spent a year in Tanzania doing volunteer work for children, who will explore this year what she wants to study next year. There is hope for more good in the world.

Path to the lake is short and pleasant meandering through high shrubs, low shrubs, rose bushes, vines of various kinds. Lake is crystal clear, green blue water is biting my toes, but kids are in and out of the water, must be swimmable. I walk in and out of thicket lined alleys exploring the secret corners of the lake. I have already identified which little pier I will be using to swim in the evening. All is well, I never expected I would be having a summer resort vacation in Amsterdam out of all places.

To make sure I am legitimate, I approach the small crowd on the pier, which seems to be either a large family or a group of friends with their families. “Is this pier open to public or private?” The young man turns to a chubby (rare in Amsterdam, since everybody is on their bikes) woman “Clara, is this open?” in Dutch which sounds very similar to German. Clara, with short blond hair, dark bright eyes replies “Open” but turns to me “This is private property, but good people can swim here.” In English, with a smile. I reply “I promise I will be good.” with a smile. Clara owns the “Yuca”, a boutique at Dam Square, Michigan Avenue of Amsterdam. She is talkative; explains they live in Amsterdam and have had this modest lake home for the weekends and holidays for the last 30 years. Clara excuses herself to prepare dinner for the family and joins her husband who has already started the barbecue.

Clara's pier

Parts of the bottom of the lake is covered with vast lilly forests, yet the water is crystal clear.

I jump in the water, after a brief shock, my body adjusts. I move parallel to the shoreline upstream for a while and swim back and past Clara’s cottage downstream. I have created my own larger-than-Olympic-size pool, I smile to myself. Kids are leaving the water one by one as their mothers announce dinner being ready from Clara’s house or neighboring cottages. Enjoying the water with no one else left in it is a new feeling that takes me back to my sunset swims in the Aegean, The Water. Swimming toward the sun during the dusk is a spectacular experience in the safety of the little coves of The Water. Finally, I get out, too. Clara’s husband is now enjoying the serenity of his yard, everybody else in the house around the dinner table, I can see through the big windows. As I walk off the pier, he waves at me, with a smile, I wave back at him, with a smile. Good people are all the same, wherever I go. They smile with a genuine smile opening the gateway to their inner treasures. Connection is something indispensible for good people. I am grateful.

                             One foggy and chilly morning the only color around was this bush.

I pack my peanut butter sandwich and head toward The Sun looking for the best spot to watch The Sun set. I discover other extensions of the lake thrusting itself into the land at unexpected turns. Finally, I find a spot slightly elevated from the meadow extending before my eyes till it reaches the lake. I buy a bottle of beer from the rustic restaurant accessible via a set of stairs, climb back up to the picnic table I already identified along a waterway that calmly flows to reach its destination, Lucky Lake. It is 9:30 pm, already, but The Sun is as bright as it has been except for the lovely red halo gradually forming around it, as if it is debating whether to sink under the blanket of the horizon or not. A thin crescent of the Moon is doing its best to push the sun into the night. The Sun is persistent, fighting for its territory until past 10 pm.

I recall my trip to Ireland with Bill in 2002. The summer skies would not reach a pitch dark black until past 11 pm. Around 3:30-4 am, The Sun would start fading the black sky into gray and finally bright blue within an hour or so. I would have to pull the curtains really tight to be able to sleep. With those memories from Ireland, I savor the beautiful colors surrounding me. Pinks, oranges, reds, shades of browns, finally fading into grays with the stubborn sun eventually giving in to the dark veil of the night. It is 10:30 now and The Sun has said good bye for the day and The Moon is toasting to her victory. It is time to enjoy The Moon on the way to my caravan. I know I will come back to this spot every evening to make sure The Sun safely arrives at her bed for the night.