I had a waking dream about my chance meeting with Daniel, Anabel, and Nina. What if I had met them earlier in my visit? It wouldn't have been the same. I wasn't there and Bloem may have been busier. This visit to Amsterdam had been like going through a gauntlet. An enjoyable, hedonistic gauntlet, yes, but still a gauntlet. I fought my way to this point, but what if fighting—trying—was the wrong approach? Everything had been easy with them. I had been running to something rather than away from something, but what if I could stop running altogether? Maybe I was finally where I needed to be.
I made breakfast while contemplating. I wanted to return to Amsterdam soon. Whatever had been gained could be lost. I knew enough about myself to know that environment affected me deeply. After I ate, I searched on .nl (The Netherlands) apartment finding sites. I found one called Direct Wönen. I called the local number and explained my situation. They asked if I could come in that afternoon and I said yes. Their site was filled with sample photos and blurbs for apartments in nearly every area of the city at much cheaper rates than I was paying. Being in The Netherlands rather than outside the country helped tremendously. Direct Wönen charged a fee equivalent to one month’s rent plus regulatory fees and taxes. Even with those added fees and taxes, the price could feasibly be less for three months than I had paid for a little over one month. It would depend on the apartment chosen among the time periods available. One factor accounting for the lower prices was that the apartments were rented by locals who were going on long vacations or working abroad.
I showered then went out. I was out of cannabis so I stopped at the Greenhouse on Nieuwe Keizersgracht. I bought two grams of Northern Lights No. 5. It always gave me a pleasant high without being too stony. I also bought two grams of Hawaiian Snow because of its reputation; it had a high THC content. I continued onward toward Direct Wönen, cutting across the Magere Brug, walking along Kerkstraat, and turning south on the busyness of Vijzelstraat. I made my way to Weteringschans with plenty of time so I slowly wandered by the Rijksmuseum and Vondel Park. I found a food cart and purchased a broodje, fritjes, and sparkling water.
I ate on a bench on a street busy with cars and cyclists, the Stadhouderskade, the major thoroughfare surrounding the city center. As I watched the cars pass I realized I hadn’t driven in a month. I didn’t miss it one bit. Walking around the city, even on days when it was cold, windy, and rainy, was preferable to driving. I wished I had a bicycle, though. I made a mental note to purchase one during my next visit.
I walked to Overtoom, another busy street, this one leading south out of any semblance of tourism. Direct Wönen was only a few blocks. A man named Humphrey met with me as I entered and we searched on his computer for an appropriate apartment. I found one I liked for 750 Euros per month—fantastically reasonable for me—located on Kerkstraat near the Magere Brug. Hell, I had walked across that bridge and right past the apartment on the way over. For a nearly three month stay the price, with Direct Wönen’s fees, was going to be a little over 3000 Euros, a few hundred Euros more than I had paid for five weeks. I still had to purchase a round-trip flight, though. The dates for stay were roughly mid-January through mid-April. I calculated my expenses and upcoming income: I had vast resources left through credit cards, $2000 per month coming from S., and I would be going home to about seven thousand U.S. dollars in indexing income, not to mention the upcoming projects I had scheduled. I was going to be fine, but I was spending a shitload of money.
If I hadn’t given Vanessa the gift I wouldn’t even have to think about it. On the other hand, if I hadn’t gone through that process of deciding to give her the gift and then actually giving it, I wouldn’t have changed in the ways I had. I considered that as Humphrey prepared paperwork; there was a hell of a lot of it. What a bizarre life I was living. Vanessa was right all along: I am strange.
Humphrey called the woman who owned the apartment and she said we could come by to look at it. This was a surprise to both Humphrey and me. I was thrilled because I wanted to get this settled—I had only two more working days in Amsterdam to get anything done. We drove over to Kerkstraat, Humphrey rang the bell, and we were buzzed inside. We went up the steps to the second floor of a four-story building. A very nice, welcoming, and good-spirited woman named Susan led us inside her apartment.
There were two bedrooms but she said she would be keeping one locked during her vacation. That was her bedroom. The other bedroom, the one where I would be sleeping, had served as a guest room. There was a nice queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, a walk-out balcony that was opposite the police station on Prinsengracht, a dresser for clothes, a nightstand, and a wardrobe half empty for hanging shirts, pants, and suits and the other half filled with blankets and sheets.
Near the front door of the apartment was a coat closet. The living room was spacious, the furniture in good condition, a glass case filled with a variety of collectibles and figurines—clearly her collection. There was a dining table in the living room—really, the living room was huge so it was essentially an open dining room and living room. There was a large, square glass-topped coffee table; glass-top coffee tables abounded in Amsterdam it seemed. The entire wall facing Kerkstraat was covered by windows, affording ample light. One of the couches sat below the windows and I could see myself sitting on the couch having a beer and cigarette watching the parade of pedestrians and cyclists pass by.
Kerkstraat was a more well-traveled thoroughfare than Entrepotdok. The Magere Bruug was only two blocks away and the bridge was certainly well-traveled by locals, commuters, tourists, and travelers. Plus Kerkstraat is just … well, everyone loves Kerkstraat, Amsterdammers, tourists, travelers, it doesn’t matter. It’s a special street located between Prinsengracht and Keizersgracht, but is not on a canal. It's a fairly narrow street in that area of the city which gives it a special feel.
Susan had satellite TV and radio as well as fiber-optic Internet service. She gave me the password so I could use it when I returned in January. The kitchen was spacious as well. Refrigerator, stove, and cupboards, a little older but in good shape. The floor was linoleum. There was one odd feature in the kitchen. A washer that also served as the dryer. It depended on the buttons pushed. Susan showed me how to use it but I was sure to forget. She must have read my mind because she said she would leave a list of all these things, including keys for the outer door, the apartment door, and the mail box. She asked me to get her mail for her and to put it in a box inside the coat closet. I said fine. I noticed that she had a cat so I asked about that. I didn’t want to be a cat-sitter, really, and she assured me that she was going to put her beloved in a cat hotel while she was on holiday. She happily said she was traveling to Aruba to see her daughter and son-in-law and enjoy the weather of the Caribbean. Nice, a good exchange for both of us.
She showed me the bathroom. I felt a little sadness as I would be leaving that luxurious shower. The shower in Susan's apartment certainly wasn’t bad, but it was nothing special. It was square and had a pull-around curtain. The toilet and sink were nothing special, either, but that was okay. I wasn’t going to be living in quite as much luxury, but the apartment was cozier, homier. It had a lived-in feel because, well, it was being lived in! Plus, I was going to be living on one of my favorite streets in all of Amsterdam just a block from the Magere Brug while paying the same price for a stay nearly three times as long.
The kitchen windows looked out onto the street and as we went back into the living room I peered over the couch to look outside. There were pedestrians and cyclists moving to-and-fro up and down the street. I noticed that the windows opened outward and I asked Susan if I could open one. She said yes and as I did the sounds of the street filled the room. It was heavenly. With a bike—even without one—I’d be within distance of the Plantage, Eik en Linde, and Bloem. The apartment was on the extreme east side of the canal rings, right next to the Amstel River.
I said, “I’ll take it.” Susan and Humphrey were pleased. I think Susan was especially pleased because she had only a little over a month left to rent it before leaving on holiday. There was something about her I really liked. I couldn’t place it, but then again how could I after a relatively brief meeting. I read and signed the appropriate paperwork. Once finished, Humphrey drove me back to Direct Wönen and I signed a few more forms. We worked out how the key transfer would work in January. Humphrey had my phone numbers, both U.S. phone and Amsterdam, and he gave me his cell number. We shook hands and I left the office all but skipping down the street.
I still had to book a flight, but I didn’t think that would be difficult for January. Not exactly tourist season. I returned home elated that I had found a place in such a choice area of the city while still being nearby the Plantage. I hadn’t noticed much discomfort on the long walk to and from Direct Wönen. I felt sore and somewhat tired, but I had probably walked five miles. All things considered I felt much better than the previous day.
I grabbed my MacBook and went to Bloem. Daniel was working along with Anabel. They smiled and waved at me as I sat down. I lit up inside just seeing the two of them. There was also a very tall young man working with them. The place was somewhat busy, but not bad. When Daniel slowed down I asked him if Bloem had an Internet password. He gave me the code and I went online. I searched for airfares on a flight-booking Web site. Within no time I found a round-trip flight from Madison to Amsterdam at just over $600.00 with fees. A steal, really. There was a layover in Chicago then a direct flight into Amsterdam Schiphol. I entered my credit card number, clicked, and in a moment I had an e-ticket. It was official: I would be in Madison for approximately five weeks and then back in Amsterdam for close to three months.
I ordered a meal and a beer from Daniel. We shared a few pleasantries, but he was too busy to chat long. It was the dinner rush, around 5:30. I thought to myself, “So people do live in these buildings!” I had days when I wasn’t sure because there was so little foot and cycling traffic compared with the number of apartments and condos in the area. I ate heartily and ordered another beer. By 6:30 the café relaxed a little. Daniel took a seat on a bar stool and just as he did Nina walked through the side door. I hadn’t even realized it existed. There was an cigarette vending machine there and I remembered that I had once stopped to purchase smokes weeks earlier. So I had been in Bloem! Holy shit, the guy who helped me with the tokens for the machine had been Daniel. My memory was foggy; I must have been stoned at the time.
Nina came to my table and I stood up to say hi. She gave me what I called a Dutch kiss: cheek-to-cheek on one side then the other then back again. It was common in Europe as a whole, but I called it a Dutch kiss nonetheless. I adored it. I had seen it often enough in the city, but this was the first one I had received on this visit. The fact that it came from a woman as exceptional as Nina made it all the better. I felt dreamy that moment and it must have shown on my face because Nina said I looked radiant. I felt a glow about me as well and it was no wonder: I’d rented an apartment, booked a flight, and received a cheek-to-cheek kiss from a woman who was radiant in her own right.
I sat down and Nina walked over to Daniel to chat. Anabel was busy cleaning dishes behind the bar but she joined in the conversation as well. They were all speaking Dutch. Their voices were as beautiful as they had been the previous night. Three angels singing of the glories of heaven. It was sinking in that I had only a few more days in Amsterdam. Even though I knew I was coming back I didn’t want to leave for even a day. How could I afford to miss any of this? I wanted to get up and hug the three of them. I felt a bit of the love I had felt the night before when I was alone at the other end of Entrepotdok. The love there had nowhere to go, but the love I felt tonight was aimed right at them. I felt as grateful as I had the night before. Three new friends, all gathered round one another, talking quietly in their easygoing manner. Light as air. I would be happy simply being in their presence for the rest of my days. I felt a pang of nostalgia knowing it likely wouldn’t be that way forever. If I had learned anything during my life it was that nothing lasts. This moment, though, I wanted to go on and on.
Daniel turned to me and asked, “You okay there, Michael? Another beer?” I said sure and Anabel stopped doing the dishes to walk to the tap, but Daniel stopped her. He said, “No, I got it. La Chouffe, right?” I answered, “Ja.” After topping it off and scraping the foam with a knife he brought it to me. I raised the glass to him and said, “Dank u wel.” Daniel laughed. “Bedankt is the more casual ‘thank you.’” I said, “Oh, okay. Bedankt.” Daniel nodded yes and said, “Your pronunciation is quite good.” I told him after being here about a month, give or take, I had picked up more of the sing-song rhythm. I mentioned finding an apartment for three months starting in January and that I had booked a flight to come back after the holidays. Daniel exclaimed, “That’s great news! Too bad you can’t stay for the holidays, though. Amsterdam is special that time of year”
Nina and Anabel were listening now. “I’m leaving early next week but I’ll be back mid-January.” Anabel asked where my new apartment was located. “I found a place on Kerkstraat near the Magere Brug.” Nina held her arms against her chest while balling her fists. “I love Kerkstraat! That’s my favorite street in all of Amsterdam!” I told her it was one of my favorites as well. It was true, I loved that street and found it hard to believe I would be living there in less about six weeks.
We continued talking until Daniel and Anabel got busy with other customers. Nina said goodbye with another Dutch kiss. *Le sigh* I really loved that greeting and goodbye. I sat at my table drinking. My laptop was open but I wasn’t doing anything with it. I was taking in the surroundings, softly euphoric that I was where I was. From some hole deep inside me a voice whispered: “Remember!” I didn’t know what it meant. Remember this moment or remember where I was just a couple months ago? I recalled having no vision or hope of ever living again at that time. It seemed like someone else’s life yet I had access to the memories of it. I thought of the moment I had chosen to go to Amsterdam and realized how prescient I had been. My intuition had guided me in the right direction. I had looked everywhere but within for the answers to my problems. Now I was living as well as I was currently able, enjoying the company of new friends, angels who embraced me as if I had been coming round for years and would be for years to come. The feeling of awe would not go away. Why should it? This was a special time, the beginning of a new life with new friends.
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