vast cultural generalizations

On my last night in Berlin, Katrin asked me, point blank, "Do you find people friendly here?  BE HONEST." I considered how to describe my experience of the people in Berlin, or Germany in general. I said that I had definitely noticed that it was harder to meet people in Germany than it had been in any of the other countries I had visited, but I couldn't put my finger on exactly why this was the case.  Maybe people were more shy?  Reserved?  Or yes, perhaps a bit more closed?  She affirmed this experience that I had had, explaining that this was a stereotype about German culture, specifically in the north - that people are generally not warm and are extremely direct (if anyone gets to make this kind of vast cultural generalization about the Germans, it is definitely Katrin, as she grew up in the south of the country and is now living in the north).  "Don't take it personally". Now, I'm not usually one for vast cultural stereotypes, but it's true that the people one encounters when travelling, especially in this manner (solo backpacking), contribute largely to the overall "feel"of a place. I thoroughly enjoyed Germany, and also left with a sense that as a solo-traveller, it's not the easiest place to meet people.

After a 6 hour train ride from Berlin on Friday, one of the first Dutch people I met was Nelly. I was standing in line at the public transit office at the Amsterdam train station that afternoon, confused as to how to get to my hostel (the directions from the hostel had stated to take tram 14 when arriving by train, but neglected to mention that you have to walk 10 minutes south of the station first). One of my running shoes was untied. I was wearing my giant backpack (and had been for at least 40 minutes at this point), and getting to my feet to tie my shoe was simply not a priority. This lovely stranger, also in line, pointed to my untied shoe and smiled. I pointed to my backpack, shrugged my shoulders, smiled, and said something to the effect of, "Thank you. I'll fix it soon". Before I knew it, this lovely woman was handing me the things she was holding, and then bending down to tie my shoe for me. I told her this was the nicest thing anyone had done for me in a while, and we struck up conversation. Nelly, maybe 50, loves her city, Amsterdam - she also loves to travel, but she is always glad to come home to a place where "you can always discover something new". We talked about the ways that travelling helps us to learn about ourselves and open our minds, and she described a recent trip to Nepal and Tibet with her 20 year old son: "I was so honoured that he chose to travel with me, his mother".  A brief reminder that kindred spirits are to be found in many places.  And, if I were to take my turn at making a vast cultural generalization, the Dutch are friendly! 

(The Dutch also have fun quirks in their cuisine. The breakfast at the hostel includes squares of chocolate and sprinkles, they put salt on their licorice ("drop" - I have discovered a love for this stuff), and they smother their french fries with mayo. Soooo tasty.)

I met Robin, from Vancouver, upon arriving at the hostel on Friday night, and I immediately enjoyed chatting with her about travels, life, etc. She invited me out "for a drink" with some people that she had met earlier that day on a city tour, and I was really glad to join this little group: Robin, George from New York, Fabhi from Pennslyvania, and Georgina, from Seattle. 

**A quick but essential tangent about "going out" in Amsterdam: it's important to note that a "coffee shop" is where one buys and smokes weed (there is no risk of making a mistake about this, as you can get a contact high by just standing on the sidewalk outside of one), and a cafe is a pub.
Liz: "So, if a coffee shop is where you smoke pot, and a cafe is a pub, where do I go if I actually want a coffee?"
Robin: "Good question. Maybe just go to Starbucks."
It took me until today to figure this one out; it seems as though the places that I would normally refer to as "coffee shops" just display a business name, and then a word like "coffee" or "espresso" on the sign as well. At times, there is even a picture of a coffee mug or coffee beans on the logo, to assist the less savvy traveller.**

So. We met these three Americans at their hostel, and I was immediately thankful thankful thankful (yes, 3 thankfuls) that I was staying at a hostel located outside of the city centre. The smell of pot, from the not-too-separate smoking room, completely infiltrated the bar at the hostel (the same room where breakfast is served in the mornings); this was a grungy kind of place where some people don't leave the smoking room for the entire duration of their stay. After having a couple of beers here, the group announced their plans to head to a coffee shop. I considered this. Robin asked me if I smoked pot, and I said that I didn't, that I actually never had in my life. I asked her the same question, and her response was, "I'm from Vancouver". Vast cultural generalizations. :)

I was enjoying the company of my little group, and so decided to venture alongside them on this excursion, to at least witness this cultural thing that Amsterdam is known all over the world for. It makes a great blog story too, right? :)  And, even without being stoned (an experience I didn't have in my adolescence and that I'm quite happy to avoid now as well), the experience of witnessing all of this was quite something. You walk in, and the bartender hands you a menu. You peruse the various types of hash and weed that they offer - if you would like to see or smell a variety, the bartender will grab a large container of it for you, so that you can see your purchase in its bulk form. These well-informed bartenders will also inform you of the various properties of your options, to help you make up your mind. All of this happens while standing at the bar, as though you were deciding on which beer you were going to order. Finally, you decide whether you would like to buy it pre-rolled, or roll it yourself, and then you go and relax at a table with your friends, stare at the psychadelic paintings on the walls, listen to the hypnotic synthesized percussion blasting from the speakers, and enjoy. Ladies and gentlemen, the Amsterdam coffee shop. For those wondering, buying a joint at a coffee shop starts at 3 Euro. 3 Euro!  I have paid almost that much just to use a public washroom recently.

Today, I was glad to get out of the touristy, crowded, cloud of pot smoke that is a good part of downtown, and wander the Jordaan district for a while. This is a very pretty area of town, featured in the postcards that aren't of the Red Light District - colourful old leaning homes, bicycle lined streets, quaint bridges, canals.  And, more coffee, yet fewer coffee shops: I was successful in finding myself a latte that did not come with the added benefit of a contact high.  Good. This is also the area of town where the Anne Frank Huis is located. Financially, I'm in a "one museum/gallery per city" kind of place, and the famous Van Gogh museum was my choice for Amsterdam. Realistically, I'm also pretty saturated with WWII history. And so, it felt sufficient to just be in this area of town, walking around her old home, and the streets in this area.

The Van Gogh museum yesterday was one of the museum highlights of this trip. Arranged chronologically, the gallery started with works by artists who had influenced Van Gogh, then went through the various stages of his art, and then finally, presented works by artists who were influenced by him. Beautiful. I fell in love with a painting of Odilon Redon's, an artist I had never heard of before, called "Closed Eyes". I could have stared at this work for an hour I'm sure - it's a print I'm going to have to track down when I get home. I noticed how drawn-in I am by art of the mid-late 19th century, not unlike my tastes in music. I love going to contemporary galleries as well, and can appreciate this work while enjoying the intellectual challenge of it. But drawn in I am by the 19th century.  A broody, imaginative, romantic at heart, I suppose. :)
 
Of course, some words about the Red Light District. I'll admit that though I knew that prostitution was a major focal point of this area, until quite recently I had no idea that the women actually stand in storefront windows (it is very possible that everyone reading this is already fully aware of this fact). So yes, sex-trade-workers in windows under red lights, sex shops, strip joints, live sex shows, coffee shops, and then amidst all this, lovely restaurants and canals. I took my time wandering this district yesterday night, feeling initially like I had entered some different world, and then realizing that I was in fact in the exact same world, just a more overt version of it. Curiosity did not kill the cat, and this was a fascinating area to people-watch and then look away quickly, gawk at times, laugh, and be comtemplative (not what everyone does in the Red Light, but hey).

The women in the windows ranged from a very young 18 (I hope at least 18...) to likely 60ish.  Could-be runway models to very "normal" looking women. Nearly naked to more modestly clothed. 90lbs to 250+lbs.  A large variety of ethnic backgrounds. Some dancing. Some dancing with the woman in the window next to them. Some clearly bored, sullen, even talking on a cell phone. Others actively coaxing, gesturing to men as they walked by, or opening the doors to try to seduce further. Men choose their woman, enter through the door, and the curtain closes across the window where the woman had been standing. I watched men enter, men leave, men comtemplate and then decide to walk away (men who were just as diverse as the women in the windows). As one young guy exited, his group of friends (waiting outside for him) broke into a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" and people on the street spontaneously began cheering for him.  I watched a group of middle-aged women standing and staring at a woman in a window, until a different, fully clothed woman emerged from the door (a female pimp?), furious, yelling, "Why do you look? Are you lesbians"? as though this word were the dirtiest swear word. I walked through this maze of streets thinking, "I don't know what to think". I know that many of these women choose this work freely. I also know that many others are forced, pressured, or believe that it is all they are worth, and so on. Someone recently said to me, "There is good social security here, they make their choices", but I don't think that "choice" is always such a black and white thing. My experience of choice/free-will is different than someone else's, based on the life they have lived, the experiences they have had.  

There's a lighter and quirkier side to all of this too. Like the world famous speciality condom shop, where one can be fitted/sized and order custom made condoms - Statue of Liberty, anyone?  Or like the ridiculous marketing techniques of the various sex shops (I'll spare you the descriptions here).  Coffee shops with names from "The Greenhouse effect" to "Happy Times" to "Popeye's". Public urinals all over the city, which run the risk that a drunk/stoned/both young man will imagine it to be a great idea to drop his pants/boxers to his ankles as he uses it. The streets of Amsterdam in general are in interesting mix.  It's one of the most culturally diverse cities I've been to on this trip, and there is a certain vibrancy and colour about this place.  There are beautiful lookouts over canals, windmills, and museums galore.  There are more bicycles than people, and the streets are lined with bikes. It's fantastic. There is also a fair amount of poverty it seems. I was moved by a gypsy woman yesterday, sitting, playing two chords over and over on a completely dilapidated accordion, singing random pitches to "la la la" as she rocked back and forth in the central "Dam" square of the city.  To use a phrase of my brother-in-law's, this is not a place that numbs the senses, and I am enjoying the mystery in wandering these streets. And, my first impression of the Dutch, facilitated by my shoe-tying angel, has held quite true for the most part.  Whether it's a shop owner, the person serving my latte, the local giving me directions, or the local trying to pick up in the park this evening (lovely to talk to, but my intuition was shouting a loud "ABSOLUTELY NOT"), it seems these are a friendly people.

Later tonight, Robin and I are heading to a bar that apparently has live music. I am partaking in nightlife these days. Who knew?  Tomorrow I journey to Brussels, but will have time here in the morning to check out a few of the city's famous markets - food market, flower market, book market, flea market.  Good good.

Sending my love.
xo