I spent most of the day indexing, finishing the education textbook and briefly starting on the next. I celebrated with a couple puffs of Arjan’s. I rode my bike to Bloem to have a beer and something to eat. It was late afternoon, cold again, so I wore my winter coat, scarf, and hat. I rode my bike and locked up on the rack outside of Bloem’s side door. When I entered there were two tables occupied. At the bar was a very tall black man. He was sitting on a stool in front of the beer taps. Daniel was talking with him in Dutch while keeping an eye on the tables.
Daniel saw me and waved me over to introduce me. The man’s name was Alexander. We shook hands, his hand engulfing mine almost entirely. He had an athletic build and looked like he could start as a safety or even linebacker for an NFL team. He was good-looking, had a great smile, and a booming voice. He sat back down and motioned for me to sit next to him. I took the seat and the three of us talked for a bit. Alexander was on his way home from work from his catering business. He was complaining about the laziness of the youth in Amsterdam. He said, “Ah, they all say, ‘do we really have to work? I can collect unemployment, you know?’ And the thing is, they’re right. They’re lazy because the system doesn’t reward hard work!” Alexander was animated as he talked, moving about in his seat and gesturing freely. I was fascinated because I’d had the impression that Amsterdam’s social safety net was among the world’s best. I said as much and both Alexander and Daniel responded vigorously.
“Yes, yes, no one falls through the cracks, there is no homelessness like in the U.S., but the youth take advantage and they think they are entitled to everything.” Alexander sounded like an American conservative, but I wasn’t going to argue because he was the one witnessing how his young workers responded. I asked him more about his business and his face lit up. He explained how he contracted with different businesses and whatnot. “But when I have a job and two out of the five workers don’t show up because they don’t feel like it, it reflects very badly on me. They can cost me contracts and eventually my business. But I can’t fire them because of the system!” Daniel chimed in, “In Holland you might get married on a whim, but hiring someone is a life-time commitment. It’s much easier to get a divorce in The Netherlands than it is to fire an employee. Workers hold all the clout. The red tape costs more than keeping them on the payroll.”
I considered this. I said, “Damn, are you guys hiring?” Daniel and Alexander laughed. “No, I understood your point. This would definitely discourage entrepreneurship. I’m surprised, really. This is pretty much the exact opposite of the United States. Businesses can fire just about anyone for no reason at all. There’s almost nothing an employee can do about it.” I then went on a mini-rant about how America sucks for workers while Daniel defended the United States. We went back and forth until Alex—he told me he went by either Alex and Alexander—said, “You both make good points. There should be a happy middle somewhere.” I said, “I wonder whether there is a country that has a system with a happy medium between the rights of workers and the interests of business. The United States had that between the 50s and the 70s. Unions got busted up in the 80s, though, so now corporations rule with impunity.” We went on for an hour talking macroeconomics and international business. It was a lively conversation with three mostly different viewpoints. Nevertheless, the beer flowed along with laughter.
The conversation shifted in natural course. Alex asked me about being an American living in Amsterdam, how it was working here. I explained my indexing business and how I could work anywhere. He loved this, “Ah, Daniel, I need this man’s job.” Alex asked me where I lived in the U.S. I had been asked this question a few times and when I said Madison I got blank stares. When I said Wisconsin I got vague looks. I had been telling people I lived in Chicago since I had less than a year ago. Alex said, “Ah, Chicago! A great city. So much energy! You know, I had work there once. I didn’t mention this earlier, but I do voice-overs.” As I listened to Alex talk I wasn’t surprised. “I had a meeting with Warner Brothers there many years ago and we worked out a contract. You know the movie Space Jam with Michael Jordan?” I told him yes, I remembered it. “For the Dutch version I did the voice of Yosemite Sam.” I laughed and said, “No way! Are you shitting me?!” I looked at Daniel. He smiled and nodded yes. “Have you done other voice-overs as well?” Alex said. “Oh, yes, I’ve done several for Disney, mostly in Dutch. Other production companies as well from different countries.”
Daniel mentioned Alex spoke six languages. Alex rattled them off, “Let’s see, Dutch, English, Swedish, German, French, and Spanish. Well, almost seven. I can speak some Russian but it’s not very good yet. I’m working on it.” I was amazed. Alex continued, “Yes, poor Daniel, he only speaks five languages. How he gets by in the world I don’t know.” I looked at Daniel with my eyebrows raised. “You never mentioned that.” He shrugged. “I guess not. It wasn't relevant.” Amsterdam, I swore, was filled with only multilingual speakers, possibly more per capita than anywhere else in the world. I might have been wrong about that, but it was strange to meet anyone in Amsterdam who spoke less than three languages. I said, “I’m a fucking moron, at least by Amsterdam standards. I speak English, some Spanish, and so little Dutch I may as well know nothing. I can order some food at least. Oh, and I got a wassen en knippen yesterday!” Daniel said, “I noticed that earlier, but I forgot to mention it once we got started about business. Looks good.”
I said to Alex and Daniel, “You know, I’m like the majority of Americans, maybe even slightly more advanced in that I speak some Spanish The young workers here may be lazy, but they can at least travel to some foreign countries and understand what the locals are saying. The only reason I get by so well here is because everyone speaks English.” Daniel said, “Really, it’s not so difficult to learn many languages. The second language is the most difficult, but then the others come easily. Your mind adapts to different structural aspects of languages.” Alex agreed, but I wondered if that was true. I supposed they were the experts. Daniel then shifted back to multilingualism in Holland. “In Amsterdam, yes, there are many multilingual speakers, but it’s not the same in the rural areas. And then there are the ‘traditionalists’ afraid of multiculturalism.” I remembered the drunk Dutchman who had gotten pissed off at my English. I said, “Oh, you haven’t seen anything here compared to the United States. Hell, there’s a strong bent against the speaking of any foreign language there. It’s mostly bigotry wrapped in an American flag. A lot of people want English to be the official language and even make all signs and documents ‘English-only.’ Americans don’t even realize that English is a foreign language. We use the language of the Brits while believing we invented it.”
Two customers came up to the bar to pay their bills. Daniel went to the register which was near the sink at the end of the bar and rang them up. Alex and I continued talking language and racism. When Daniel returned I ordered a chicken satay as it was one of the specials. Daniel went back to the kitchen to place the order with Dorlan. The other two customers came to pay their bills as well, but I noticed a couple more tables had filled since I had entered earlier. I had been too caught up in conversation to notice.
Daniel busied himself cleaning up their tables. Before he was finished Alex enthusiastically said, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Michael. Despite your criticisms of the United States, Americans are good people. You’re a fine example!” I hemmed and hawed as he thanked me for the good conversation. I smiled and said, "No, Alex, the pleasure was all mine. You have such a great presence, good energy. "Alex shook his head and waved a giant finger at me. “Oh, you’re a sweet talker who can’t take a compliment, eh? I’ll remember that.” He laughed heartily then said goodbye to Daniel. He rang out “Ciao!” as he left through the side door. Daniel brought me my meal and continued cleaning and organizing. As I was finishing up I asked Daniel about Alex. “Does he come in here often? You seemed to know him well.” Daniel said, “Alexander? Yeah, he lives in the neighborhood and sometimes stops by for a few beers. This is one of his places. He gets around.” Daniel laughed. “He knows everybody and everybody knows him.” I said, “It’s kind of hard to miss him. He’s huge and he’s got that booming voice. I can understand why he’s in demand for voiceovers.” Daniel agreed. “He’s a very talented man. He's a good storyteller. You have to take his yarns with a grain of salt if he's had a few. He’s always entertaining, though.”
When I finished my meal Daniel took the plate away. I ordered another beer and I mentioned business again, this time bringing up autonomism and anarchy. “Michael, now you’re going way out there.” I asked Daniel what his opinion on squatters was. “I don’t have a problem with them. If a building owner is stupid enough to leave his property vacant for a year then it may as well be occupied by someone who needs it. Obviously, the owner doesn’t.” Daniel’s views were so interesting. He could be conservative on one issue and sympathetic to anarchists on another. Socially he was definitely open-minded and liberal. On issues of economics it was mixed, unpredictable but insightful. “You recognize the difference between property rights and economics. Few seem to be able to make nuanced distinctions like that.” Daniel nodded. “I can’t say how most think, but the difference is obvious.” So nonchalant about it. I shook my head and laughed. Daniel looked up from washing glasses with a smile on his face. “What?” I looked over at him. “You’re just … you’re uniquely you.” Daniel continued smiling as he looked back down at the glass he was washing.
I mentioned to Daniel that I had met an anarchist—then I remembered I needed to check what day I was supposed to meet with Che again! Daniel said, “Really? How did you meet?” I thought about meeting her and shook my head. “That’s a funny story, actually. I had shroomed the previous night and I woke up on the Magere Brug without being able to remember how I got there.” Daniel stopped in his tracks and slowly looked over at me, clearly intrigued. I closed my eyes and nodded sheepishly, with a widening grin.
“I know, it was just, I can’t explain it. Anyway, I felt great. It was early morning, sun was shining, a nice day. I was looking around and everything seemed perfect, wonderful. I was people watching on the bridge and I saw a woman dressed in a bizarre mix of colors. On a whim, I walked up to her and alongside her, babbling to her about how intrigued I was by her, whether she was dressed that way to express herself or to make up for being a bore.” Daniel laughed. “You said that to her?” I said, “Yeah, I was just letting it fly. I didn’t know her, I figured she’d tell me to sod off, and I’d go about my day. I was just having fun, playing around. She didn’t say anything for the longest time, but she finally started smiling and I got her to laugh. After that, we started talking a little more like human beings. That was when she mentioned she was an autonomist.”
Daniel shook his head. “I did not see that coming.” He looked over, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say. I’m intrigued, though.” I said, “Yeah, it was a surprise to me, too. I was sort of watching myself while I was talking. Kind of weird, but that happens to me sometimes.” Daniel raised his eyebrows and gave me a sort of “Duh!” look. “Of course it does! You’re a shroom guru. You’ve got that aura about you.” I shook my head and said, more seriously, “That wasn’t always the case.” Daniel, more somberly, said, “Well, you have depth even when your playful.” Interesting. How did Daniel always know everything I discovered about myself before I did?
“We went out the next day to OT301, ate at De Peper. You know it?” Daniel nodded. Of course he knew it. The man knew everything and everyone. “It’s a great vegan spot. I’ve eaten there.” Daniel looked at me with a glint in his eye and asked, “And then?” I raised my eyebrows, took a drink of my beer, and said, “We talked for a bit outside, we kissed. She said she was going to Berlin for a while. We agreed to meet at De Peper two weeks later.” Daniel asked, “When was this?” I said, “Pretty close to two weeks ago. Shit, I had forgotten about it. I wrote it down somewhere. I'll have to look when I get home.” Daniel said, “You and an anarchist. It fits, in a way. I wouldn’t have guessed it, but hey, who knows, right?” I shrugged. “Yeah, we’ll see. I don’t know. Two different worlds even though I agree with a lot of the same principles. But she’s been living the life and she’s active in it. Whatever happens, it’ll be cool to see her again. She’s cool. Intelligent, passionate, and we share a lot of the same views. She's witty and cute, too. Doesn't hurt.” I paused for a bit. "I don't feel entirely sexual toward her, though." Daniel nodded. "That's evident. There's something there, though, right?" I said, "Yeah. Still, I'm so fascinated by her politics and the lifestyle, this squatting community, that the passion shifted to those issues. I haven't thought about it much since I last saw her."
A customer I didn’t realize was present came downstairs and paid her bill. Daniel waved her goodbye as she left. “Tchϋss.” I turned to Daniel, “She was cute.” Daniel nodded. I said, “She was giving you a hell of a once over.” Daniel brushed it off. I had gotten so used to being around him I didn’t think about his looks, his easy self-confidence, or how women nonverbally responded to him. He definitely drew the attention of the women who came in to dine or drink. He had an air about him. I wondered about his private life.
Daniel and I talked more as I drank my beer. “You think we'll get more days like yesterday any time soon? Daniel rolled his eyes. “We’ll be lucky if we have another day like that this month.” He paused, “You never know, though. We’ve had warmer weather the past few years. When I first moved here the winters were colder than they are now, more snow, too.” My thoughts went to global climate change. Everywhere I had lived as an adult a local would tell me how much milder the winters were than they had been in the past. It had seemed to me that the Dutch were adamant environmentalists, too. I asked Daniel if that was true, He said, “Without question. You should talk to my wife about it.” Wife?! I had no idea he was married. “Whoa, wait a minute. You’re married?!” Daniel sighed and said, “Well … it’s complicated. It was a marriage of convenience, so to speak. We haven't really been together for a long time. We see other people. We’re close friends, but she’s a lesbian.” What?! “How does that work exactly?” I asked, bewildered. “Well, she wasn’t a lesbian when we got married. Or she didn’t know she was. Or … it’s complicated.” Yeah, no question.
I didn’t press any further. Daniel was comfortable talking about it, but explaining the situation seemed like heavy lifting. It amazed me how little his emotions changed talking about such subjects. The man was at peace with his life. He rolled with anything that came up. A rare quality. "What other surprises do you have up your sleeve?" Daniel looked at me slyly, “I think that’s enough for one day.” I shook my head in wonderment. “Daniel, you are an enigma wrapped in a riddle. I’m simultaneously perplexed, awed, and intrigued.”
Our conversation settled down. A few more people walked in, two small groups. I told Daniel I had probably had enough for the day. “You sure?” I said, “Well, one more won’t hurt.” I was easy. I enjoyed being with the man. He had that way about him. I was always happy when he was around. Not ecstatic, not euphoric, but relaxed, easygoing, and mildly playful. I felt ... natural. His presence had that effect. And yet, there was no sense that anything unusual was occurring most of the time. That was the beauty of it. I noticed it most often when I first arrived and when I was about to leave. When I entered Bloem, a relaxed sigh said "welcome home," and when I was about to leave, there was a pang that yelped, “Hey, why are you leaving? You're home and Daniel is here!.”
I got ready to leave around ten. As I paid, I added a nice tip. Daniel always chided me for doing so. He said, “Michael, you don’t have to tip me.” I felt embarrassed, but I said, “Yeah, but you’re working and I appreciate that.” Daniel shook his head. “What, you think I don’t appreciate your company? It's more fun when you stop by, more interesting. You’re contributing, too, you know?” I said, “I don’t think about it that way.” Daniel said, “I know you don’t. It’s refreshing.” I smiled and said, “Thank you, Daniel. Now shut up or I’m going to get sentimental.” Daniel laughed. “That’s your problem.”
In all honesty, he was my best friend in Amsterdam. I could honestly call him a friend. I did have a knack for attracting high quality individuals into my life. I was beginning to realize it wasn’t a fluke. I actually offered something of value to others. How weird. As I waved goodbye and walked outside to my bike, I felt blessed. It never ceased to amaze me how we had met. I didn’t believe in miracles, but the odds of meeting him on that particular night, given what I had been going through at that time, were astronomical. Meeting Daniel, Nina, and Anabel was far more rewarding than winning the lottery ever could be. I thought the odds that I would be invited into their lives in the ways I had been were probably incalculable . I was certainly grateful.
As I rode home I kept wondering, “Why is Daniel so … undefinable?” All I could think was, “because he’s Daniel.”
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