Apprehensively Forward

5/25/12
I'm not sure why- it's not as though I'm not used to being in new places- but while I sat in the restaurant at the information center across from the train station in Amsterdam, drinking my espresso, I was overcome by a feeling of apprehension. I had no idea where to go or what to do. I wished to be somewhere familiar. I sat and pondered the map and flipped through my book to find somewhere to go and finally, after an hour or so of surrendering to the feeling of being utterly daunted in a foreign place, I simply said "screw it" and left.
I walked down past the train station toward the canals and turned left after the second or third bridge following the water to the city's center. The street by the canals are breathtaking. The water flows deep blue, not brown like the Rhône in Lyon. There I found people in boats cruising up and down the water: groups of friends- blonde, tan, and laughing with drinks, music, and money. I wished for a minute to be like them as I looked down at my dirty, blistered feet and tearing clothes.
"Love yourself, keep walking." And so I kept walking.

Somewhere along the way that day I rediscovered my confidence, but those hours without it were a humbling reminder that I'm a person stuck to the side of a planet hurtling through space and I have no idea what I'm doing... And somehow that's okay.

Finding Balance

5/22/12
Amy got ready to head out. It was about noon and she had to get some groceries for her house before coming back to work.
John was off to see his mom, who is sick with diabetes- relatable- and so I spent a few minutes planning my day. I decided to walk down to see a big park called Parc de Bastions and I got my route off the internet. It was still raining, but oh we'll. I got my stuff together and, despite my refusal, John slipped 10 francs in my pocket and told me to get something to eat. We hugged and made plans to see each other again at the Cactus Bar the night. Amy would be bartending again.
...
I knew at this point that if I headed in a general northward direction from the river, I'd end up at the train station. What I didn't factor in was that I'd only ever been to the Cactus Bar once- and I found it by accident while lost. I knew it was near a McDonalds, but beyond that- shit. So I kind of just found the station, found the McD's nearby, then wandered up and down the streets near there looking for a landmark. My shoulders were screaming again from the weight of my backpack and guitar, but I had no choice but to keep going, looking for the bar.
Luck again was on my side. I turned up a street lined with restaurants with outside canopies, not recognizing anything, then there, on the far corner *angels sing in glorious harmony* the Cactus Bar! I worked my way inside and met Amy at the top of the stairs and we went down together.
Turns out she's only 19! I could have sworn she was in her early 20's. She's really sweet, too. She got me a salad and told me she's moving back to London to study Journalism. We talked for a while about writing. She loves writing and research, which is wonderful, and she says she has a passion for history as well. I think that's pretty rare these days. When the people started to trickle in she had to get to work. Before long the place as packed and the night went crazy!
...
The bar ended up packed wall to wall with loud excited teens just finished with their IB's and ready to unwind. My favourite part about them was that they were drunk, but they were HAPPY! I loved when a song they knew would come on and they would all start to shout the words and dance. The first time I heard the song "Call Me Maybe" it was at my mom's friend Cheri's house a few weeks ago. Her daughter Shelby, 8 or 9 years old I think, was singing it with her friend in the in the living room on repeat. And here I was surrounded by dozens of drunk teenagers screaming it at the top of their lungs! It was hilarious!
...
I loved getting to know Amy better and meeting her friends, Mimi and Doreen. I got to meet Mimi later in the night. She works at the restaurant above the bar- a slight girl with two small children and issues with their father. She and I have a lot in common, moving around a lot as kids an now having the urge to keep on moving. Doreen is from Uganda- Erick and Doreen were old friends and he actually introduced me to her first. She was a so much fun- a bit drunk and very sweet. She'd moved around a lot, too, going between Europe and Africa to study. Now she's working to help empower the Ugandan people to help them become more Independant and off of foreign aid.
...
Once the bar was closed we headed across the street to another bar still open and sat outside. They had another round of drinks and we all sat around and chatted about life and traveling and what 'home' is. I said I was looking for 'home'. They said "Home is where the heart is." So I said "Then I'm looking for my heart."
...
At the end of the night I said au revoir to all my new friends and headed back across the river with my hostess, Doreen. It was a long walk and it was very late and I was so tired. Once we were across the river and Doreen saw me change shoulders with my guitar for the umpteenth time, she insisted on carrying it for me. She insisted, telling me then about her work with the Ugandan people and saying "You have to help yourself, but sometimes that means asking for help from others."
I agreed and told her, "It's all about balance. You know that in this world you can't expect help from anyone, but at the same time, you have to learn to accept help when it is offered- because you're not unworthy of it. I'm working on learning that balance."
So she carried the guitar.

Week blur thus far

Flamenco!

I know very well of a place you can go
for a night of romantic Spanish flamenco.
It's a hole in the wall, this is true, but inside
the passion you'll find is a spicy surprise!
The sangria is sweet and flows freely, my friend;
and the rhythm will catch you for hours on end!
And the beat
  And the beat
      And the beat will unseat you!
And the dancing
   The dancing
      The dancing will free you!
I know a place for flamenco, I know it quite well,
and if you go to Madrid, then you'll know it,
  You'll need it,
      You'll love it as well.

5/15/12

  When we got to La Quimera we were some of the first ones, but we had a little table and pillowed bench set aside for us. We nibbled on our tapas and watched the people amble in. As the tables started to fill we saw the guitar player enter, Georgeo pointed him out. Soon it was 10 and the tables were filling and an electric excitement was buzzing in the air. I ordered my sangria, Georgeo his beer, and we got ourselves settled in for the show. It started with a single soft clang, almost like a hammer on a bell. A melody started, with just the bell, and soon it was echoed by hand clapping and foot stomping, keeping time. The lights went out, turning out gazes to a table at the back of the bar. The man from earlier with the big barrel chest started suddenly to sing- big bellowing passionate bursts! The crescendo rose- and so did a man in a tight suit (gorgeous!!). He rose slowly to the beat and stepped
                                             gracefully
                                                          slowly
                                                                  to the tabletop.
And then there was dancing!
  The show moved to the main stage and climaxed in waves. First one person would dance, a man in black. Then he would perform a stunning finish. After three or four of these dances, the grand finale and thunderous applause, then without pause, another song would start and the next dancer would take the stage. Sometimes the dancer would command silence with a wave and all noise would stop-
   then the dancer would start to stomp and clap out a beat and the other dancers, singer, and guitarist would nod and shout their approval and join in. Each dance or song was punctuated copiously with cries of "Ole!"- either soft encouragement or loud raucous finale cries! The passion of the dancers was palpable.
  The woman, a tiny thing, had so much expression in her face and her body when she danced. She'd lift her skirts and her legs would be moving like blurs underneath.
  The man in black had precision, ending on final beats with a clap like thunder, using the whole of the stage.
  And the man who danced last, the same as the table at the beginning, the gorgeous man women would melt for (and some men as well, to be sure), he moved with such fluidity. He used his hands to hypnotize and he worked his body to dripping with his fervor for the music!
  And the singers! Oh! The singers! Long ringing notes hanging in the air making you hold your breath, never wanting it to end! There were two singers. The man with the barrel chest sang first to open the show. Then he introduced the players and left the stage to stand by the bar and watch with the rest of us. I think he owns the place. The other singer was a woman; she accepted her introduction with a shy wave and so I expected her to be shy- but when she sang she had such power! And at the end of the show she stood in her long black dress and came to the front of the stage. I was expecting a power-note, but instead, to my breath-catching pleasant surprise- she began to dance! The grand finale had all four out dancing, the guitarist strumming wildly, and all the audience in thunderous wall shaking applause! It was a riot of passion!!
We left on winged feet, walking home on clouds...

Street Spanglish

The Spice of Athens