The last few months passed surprisingly quickly, and the initial rapid progress I was making on all fronts--work, play and language--seemed to have dissipated into a morass of difficulties, doubt and worry. However, as surely as the sun shines in June, the corner has been sighted if not turned. This is certainly due in no small way to a series of chance encounters in April and May which gave me back the sense of adventure that brought me out to Amsterdam in the first place. I also realised, albeit reluctantly that 6 months into a place isn't necessarily sufficient to set up a familiar routine, develop a vibrant and glittering set of friends and maintain the stable relationships with friends, family and girlfriend in London that I need to keep me nourished and sustained.
With this said, my spring has encapsulated an invitation to perform in a multicultural piece of performance theatre this summer with De Kazerne (which translates as The Barracks but consist of the least soldierly people you can imagine), learning how to sail (the wind gets up to speed 6, the boat tilts precariously at 45 degrees and the prow creates so much spray that you are submerged in an aerosol of icy water and adrenaline) as well as a deeper immersion in the classical Indian music scene here.
It seems its time to consolidate all these disparate elements, develop these friendships and continue to forge new ones by sitting in cafes, writing for this webzine and listening animatedly to music through my headphones.
Amsterdam is a city transformed in the summer and now the sun is here, the girls are muscularly waltzing about in even shorter skirts but still with scarves and boots on: the sun doesn't equate to warmth even now. The boys are out on the various steps drinking beer and generally contributing to the image of the European idyll--sophisticated out of doors pontification interspersed with drinks, laughter and plates of food. Not that food in Amsterdam is on the gourmet scale of the Latin countries. The ingredients are fantastic but the manner of dish construction is closer to painting by numbers than the subtlety of light and shade that Rembrandt and early Mondriaan are known for. I have been taking an intensive set of Dutch classes which although difficult, has been exceptionally rewarding and now I can begin a conversation with my bar buurvrouw or buurman--the person sitting next to me in the bar. This has led to some occasionally interesting meetings with for example a Wall Street Journal correspondent with a special interest in energy and a girl whose dad has done the Paris - Dakkar as well as the usual crazies, crackpots and delinquents that I have a tendency to attract. I have regained some of that fearlessness that characterised the first few months out here and am perfectly happy to go alone into a gallery or a café or a bar with the expectation that I will come out enriched, with at least another sentence of Dutch and possibly another node to attach to the spiders web of friends and contacts. I hope I can maintain this energy for a few weeks longer before I disappear to Sweden and Brazil.
Politics: Change is precpitated by catasrophe
