Amsterdam in the Moment

Recently I wrote that my need to write a book had evaporated. It is true. But my need to write has not.

I signed up for a one-day writing course called “Writing Amsterdam in the Now”. I wasn't expecting to find my motivation for writing the book again. But I was hoping to re-ignite the creative spark that gave me the idea of writing a book about Amsterdam in the first place. I felt that spark had been left behind or snuffed out somewhere in the last few weeks. I needed inspiration to get it back.

That inspiration came in the form of this wonderful city, and a way of experiencing it introduced to me by Tine Van Wijk, an “echte Amsterdammer” who was brought up here during the war. She is a writer and a Gestalt Therapist – and a great person.

We met up in the morning at the ABC Treehouse, a gallery and arts courses centre. We talked for a while to get acquainted, and she asked me to think about what Amsterdam meant to me. Immediately images of meetings with friends in special places of the city came up in my mind as we sat breathing, eyes closed, thinking and imagining our experience of the city. After a few minutes, she said “just write it down – don't think. Write what comes first.” And I did. The thoughts and ideas came out straight away, and before I knew it, in 5 minutes I had a piece.

We then read each other's piece aloud. I was amazed to feel no fear at reading it. Normally I would be nervous, but the experience of writing this blog has helped lose any self-consciousness about whether what I write is good or not. And Tine made me feel so comfortable, it was a safe place to share my ideas.

Afterwards, we spent the day in different locations in the city doing exactly the same thing. Go to a place. Spend some time to breathe in the atmosphere and the surroundings. Look around. Listen to the sounds around us. Smell. Taste a coffee or a smoothie. Feel the ground or the seat beneath us. Then write for 10-15 minutes about whatever came to mind as a result

At the end of the day, we had written in 5 different locations around Amsterdam, with so many contrasts. A quiet courtyard, a busy tourist area, one high above the city, another close to the water. And we talked a lot about writing and our love of the city.

The day made me realise two things. I love writing. And I love Amsterdam NOW. Everywhere I turn, I find important moments of my own story in the streets, corners, canals and cycle routes. Meetings with good friends. Chance talks with strangers. Places I have sat, walked, hurried, shopped, eaten and been drunk. Running, cycling or scooter routes. Bridges where I have cried, squares where I have laughed. And mainly the people I have done all of those things with.

And that was the point Tine and I came to. If we asked ourselves, what is Amsterdam? Tine first wrote "It is a group of homes and streets based around the Amstel and the Ij rivers”. But she corrected it and said "Amsterdam is the people. The people make the city.” She said it all for me.

No matter where my life takes me, I became a part of this city in these 12 years, and the city and its people became a part of me.

In the coming days I will post three of the pieces I wrote on this amazing day. The rest will appear somewhere in the future. Or, who knows, maybe these Amsterdam Moments will appear in a book one day...

Mostar

If you are like me, the Yugoslavia war will have passed you by in the 1990's. I watched the news on TV and heard the iconic words Sarajevo, Kosovo and Bosnia as if they were from the other side of the moon. The politicians talked, the shots kept firing and shells kept falling - and tens of thousands of people died.

In the last few years, I worked with people form the former Yugoslav region and made friends with Serbians, Croatians, Bosnians and Slovenians. The message I heard from all of them is always the same - "we never thought about ourselves as anything other than Yugoslavians. The politicians are the ones who stirred up the problems."

One location of a brutal part of the war was Mostar in Bosnia. It was the site of a 400 year-old bridge, and as a city divided between Muslims and Christians, it became a target. I don't want to say who was bombing who because I don't take any sides in this subject - atrocities happened on all sides, and there was no right or wrong, just politics that caused mayhem. But one truth is that the ancient bridge was bombed until it broke.

To understand more, there is an amazing documentary from the front line of East Mostar in 1993, made by a BBC journalist called Jeremy Bowen. It is a shocking series of clips - I only recommend it for the brave-hearted.

I had the privelege to visit Mostar recently. It's now a UNESCO protected World Heritage site, and thanks to that funding the brdge was restored in 2004. You can see some of the pictures of development in this blog - it is incredible how ruined it was, and what an incredible job has been done to bring the bridge and the town back to life.

As I wandered through the streets of the small old town, the atmosphere was lovely - warm, friendly and interesting influences of East and Western culture. My time in Bosnia and Hercegoviona gave me a sense of a country recovering and resurgent. I felt like crying half the time in Mostar - how could human beings be so cruel? But of course, people are continuing with their lives and moving on to their future, the only possible thing to do.

Yet reminders of the recent brutal past exist here and there, my favourite being the stone with the message "Don't Forget".

And it is hard to forget when you see the bullet holes still there in older buildings on the edge of the town.

"Just One Happy Thought & You'll Fly" Laser 3.14

Many years ago, my first boss at Canon told me "a good idea doesn't care where it comes from." Increasingly around Amsterdam, I started to receive good ideas via graffiti by a guy who calls himself "Laser 3.14".

The style is always the same - he signs his name, and writes a message of few words which always leave you thinking as you leave the site of his art. He places his messages on boards covering construction sites, which adds something to the impact for sure. It is almost as if his words are part of the re-construction.

It's a strange feeling to be wandering through the city, not really thinking about much, and then be faced with a line like "We go down by waves of regret". Or A simple message such as "Sometimes it helps to dream".

I have a book by Richard Bach called Illusions, which has the sub-title of "The Messiah's handbook." One of the concepts of the book is that you can open it up and get what you need at any given time. I can remember many years ago opening it up and finding the phrase "Argue for your limitations and sure enough they are yours".

It was a time when I was feeling very cynical and letting myself be dragged down by a lot of negative thoughts. Just this phrase was enough to make me think seriously about what limits I was imposing on myself with my attitude. It was a mini-turning point.

A similar effect came from another of Laser 3.14's graffiti. 4 months ago, I was having a few nerves about my plans to take time and use it to do some things I have always wanted to do. Suddenly as I started to come closer to the end of the comfort of the structure that Canon life gave me for so many years, I saw a message in the street which made me stop, look and think for quite some minutes.

The message made me think that I had been given a gift of time, and if I didn't use it, then no meaning to get the gift. I share that message with you here.

New Beginnings

Time for a new start.

Over 3 months have passed since I finished working at Canon. It has been a time of reflection and re-adjustment. That period is coming to an end and it's time to move on. I shared my 3-part plan with everybody, and this is where it stands.

Part two of the plan - travelling - is fixed, but with a very happy twist. A week ago, Nicki and I worked out a schedule to travel around the world from 26th October until 14th March. That schedule is a dream - USA, Peru, Argentina, New Zealand and Australia, with Christmas on Easter Island and New Year in Tahiti, plus a final week in Thailand.

It's a new and absolutely joyous feeling for me to plan, prepare and experience these things together. Meeting Nicki has changed my life. Doing this with her has given a completely different life and meaning to the trip.

Part One of the plan is on hold. In the last two months, my need to fulfil the dream of writing a book has simply evaporated. I will try to explain why in another posting. All I know is that it has gone - maybe temporarily, maybe forever, I just don't know. My interest in writing will continue, however - I will focus on this blog, and take some creative writing courses in the coming 2 months. But the goal of a book as an outcome is no longer important to me.

The positive part of the research I have done is that I learned more about Amsterdam in a month than I did in 11 years. What a great and fascinating city it is!

Part Three - setting up a coaching company - is a theoretical Go. However, where, what type of coaching and what the main focus will be remains to be decided. That's because I can see the future pretty clearly as far as 14th March 2010, and no further. I love living in Amsterdam and I love my home here. But there has been something missing in my life, and now I have found it again, after many, many years. If that results in leaving Amsterdam, so be it.

But this is jumping ahead, because that page of my story is not yet written, and will be written by the experiences of travel together. By the time March comes around, it will be crystal clear what to do.

I have always said from day one of the plan being formed that "you can't steer a ship that isn't moving". To get to the next stage, I needed to make a plan and go for it. I knew that plan may change, but without a purpose and set of goals, I also knew that I would get nowhere. The fact that I am not following those plans strictly is no concern for me. Having the plans in the first place took me to moment in my life of being open to change my solitary ways and allow new things to come in.

It's a unique opportunity to take this time to travel with a great person and see and learn all there is to on such a trip. I can honestly say that my job ending at Canon, resulting in such changes of focus, was the best thing that has happened in my life for many years.

Blog On Hold til mid-August

Due to some recent changes, I decided to put my blog on hold until Mid-August.

In November last year, our company made an announcement of 234 jobs – including mine - moving to the UK. It was a startling surprise and came as a shock to many people. As soon as I heard the word “London”, I knew nothing would be the same again. 8 months on, it is clear that instinct was correct.

Within days, people began to understand the extent of the change coming up, and a wave of emotion washed across the whole company – both among the affected and non-affected staff. I was caught up in the emotion too, and doubly so as a member of the Works Council.

This blog provided an outlet for my opinions and a way to share the feelings of my colleagues and their changing attitudes to the coming change. As their plans and my own took shape, it has been great to share those plans and to reflect all of our fluctuations of belief, concern, confidence and frustration in these lines.

In more recent months, I was able to share experiences like a great trip to Texas and New Orleans, as well as post some short stories about experiences in Amsterdam. I also shared my thoughts on some basic principles, such as Integrity and how True Colours are revealed under pressure. It has also been a forum to share my progress towards the dream of writing a book.

I stand now in the first stages of my plan and development. In the first 5 weeks after finishing work, I focused on researching the book and learning about Amsterdam in the period 1965-1983, and that research is partly done. I have a number of other people to interview, which I will do in August and September – so a big thanks to everyone who has helped with finding sources and putting me in contact.

In recent weeks, I've been lucky to have everything that the Skyros and Atsistsa experience can offer (www.skyros.com) and am ready to get to the hard work of getting the writing done. I got great advice to re-create a “go to work” habit (thanks, Helen-Anne) by renting a small office space in the Pijp in Amsterdam, so this is one possible next step for the book.

Meanwhile, the plan to go to Australia for 4-6 months in November is changing. My main intention with that trip was to get months off to re-assess what I want to do with my life. However, that process is already well on the way, since I have been off work for two and a half months already. That opportunity to STOP and re-assess has been invaluable and my focus in life is changing fast. One big change is that I may do the travelling with someone else; something I had never imagined before but which suddenly seems exactly the right thing to do - more on that another time. The purpose of the travelling will change too - in recent weeks, I have come to realise that joy lies in a combination of location and people, not just location.

Another irony is that a change in my personal life may cause me to re-assess where I want to live my life. The fact that I was "fixed" in Amsterdam was a major reason for not considering London. Suddenly, again, this change makes location an open subject now. Surprises come at every turn.

The third part of the plan is intact – starting a coaching company in first half of next year. Having met a number of people in this or similar fields recently, I recognise the need to re-train and invest in myself in relevant coaching skills. This may best be done in England and that could fit my personal plan.

Now many of my colleagues at Canon have either left the company or moved to UK. That story is an ongoing one as those staying look for and find new jobs, and those moving adapt to the change of living in UK. All of these changes are a part of daily life now – the concept of “security” being associated with a company or a job is evaporating and we know we have to look to ourselves and our own skills to find security.

It is the end of a phase in this story, and as a result, I am suspending my blog for a period of a month. I will re-start posting pieces in mid-August, when the focus will be more heavily on the book and the coaching company development. A few travel stories will undoubtedly turn up too...

I appreciate everybody who has taken the time to read my postings in the last months. Look out for more as of 15th August.

Greek journey

I planned to head to Corfu by train and bus, but ended up at the Athens bus station by mistake. So to go with the flow, I bought a bus ticket to Ioannina and leave at 19:30.

The bus station is incredibly outdated. It reminds me a lot of the time when Amanda and I travelled in Greece 23 years ago. The whole thing is worn out. The station is full of little travel offices which have been there forever, interspersed with numerous little shops selling the same stuff – Papadopoulos cookies, sesame seed honey bars, water and beer plus a few sandwiches and chocolate for the journey.

It is chaos. Taxis queuing and battling for the arriving travellers, buses fighting to get past the wandering passengers to their relevant stall out of the 40 dotted around the place. Lots of traders selling packets of tissues and sunglasses, plus a few mothers with babies begging for money. Chaos, but alive and real, the way the real people travel. Bizarrely, amid the madness and grime, a shining Mercedes dealer gleams its expensive models at the cash-strapped bus travellers.

I haven't had this kind of journey for many years. I bought the ticket for the 19:30 bus, and the journey take 6 hours. It means I will arrive in the middle of the night and I have no idea where I will sleep. I think simply that I have a tent, a sleeping bag and money - I'll find a way. It is one of the benefits of travelling alone. That kind of approach doesn't generally work as a couple (unless you find that exceptional partner who says “great, let's try!”).

2 hours before bus departure. I sit and let my mind wander, watching the chaos settle down after rush hour.

The whole time in Greece has been a reminder of that Interrail trip 23 years ago with Amanda. We spent 7 weeks in Greece in total, and in some way every trip back to the country has been an echo of that time. This time the resonance is Ioannina. Amanda and I stayed at Camping Patista in Kalamata, on the Peloponnese mainland, a 7-hour train journey south of Athens. While there, we both read Eleni, a harrowing story about the Greek Civil War from 1940-49 which followed many similar patterns to the Balkan wars in the 1990's – neighbour against neighbour, incited by the politicians to carry out incredible cruelty and violence.

Ioannina was one of the key towns to feature in Eleni's story. She was a Greek woman married to an American, and as such victimised by the Communist powers who took over her town. The American was away and she was left to fend for herself and her children. She arranged for the children, who were being forced to serve in the army, to escape. For this, she was tortured and finally killed.

As we sat on the beach and in the campsite in 1986, we started to get a picture of village life in Greece at that time and looked up at the huge mountain overshadowing the bay of Kalamata. An old mountain village sat on top and thanks to our pensioner benefactors, Kay and Harold, we were introduced to the locals there. K & H (as we named them) had spent 5 months of the year for each of the past 8 years in Kalamata, and it seemed each year they took in a couple of youngsters and showed them sights around the area.

That summer, we were treated to Tiropita (cheese pie) lunch-time parties, local Ouzo and Wine, and various taverna lunches and dinners. Thanks to them, we were able to connect the things we read about with the atmosphere of the old and decrepit town. It was hard to believe a civil war had existed there less than 40 years previous.

As I look back, it is quite amazing to think it is really 23 years since Amanda and I were there. It's a hard concept to grasp. I don't really know why it's so hard. Maybe because I lost contact with Amanda many years ago, despite our pledges that we will always be friends. Or maybe because I just met a beautiful girl who reminds me of Amanda in certain ways (the freshness of spirit, a penchant for Russian wedding rings and the small squeezes of the fingers to say “I am here, I care about you”.) Or maybe simply the wonder of the passing of time and the chance to think about it with no time pressure or objective for the trip. And maybe it's a combination of that and more. I don't know. But I feel nostalgic.

The true meaning of the word Nostalgia comes from Homer's Odyssey. Lost and far from home, Odysseus feels “the longing to be again at the place he has been before”. Kalamata was a place where Amanda and I really started to learn what it was to love. And with the word Ioannina ringing in our ears, we talked about the wonderful Eleni story for hours. Now to see that word stencilled on the front window of the bus, I feel that, although it was a town I only read about, I am going back to that time of happiness and love between us and have a new chance to refresh my life, as we started our adult lives so freshly at the age of 19.

The bus journey is great. I manage to keep awake while it's still light and view the beautiful water and mountains along the way. I get an hour's solid sleep and follow this with half-dozing, half-dreaming to the sound of Greek music keeping the driver amused at the front of the bus. Luckily there is plenty of legroom and I feel very comfortable and happy with the journey. Just as we arrive in Ioannina, 2am, I see big sign saying “CAMPING”. Luckily, the bus station is a few hundred metres away and I head back after getting my huge rucksack.

It's clear that I am not experienced in this kind of travelling – my load is impossibly heavy. Have to jettison some stuff at my Dad's place. It's also clear that my tent is brand new and I haven't got a clue how to put it up. The best part of trying to work it out is the head-light which a friend advised me to buy, making the whole thing so much easier. The 10 minute job takes me an hour, but now I know. Each experience is making me a bit less soft and a bit more knowledgeable.

I awake to find the site is at the side of a beautiful lake and in the shadow of a forbidding mountain. I walk through the town and see how much the locals have tried to make it a modern looking place, with clothes shops and telecom centres everywhere. Still some of the charm of the old town exists, but homage to the past is almost deliberately avoided. It is hard to believe that terrible cruelty happened here just 60 years ago, but time and experience are healing, healing.

Krakow - Part Two

Following the historic tour, we went for a wander in the town. The main square, our guide triumphantly told us, is the second largest in Europe, 2m x 2m smaller than St. Mark’s square in Venice. It really is an amazing place, and I liked the open space of it all. In the main church tower, there is a delightful tradition. Centuries ago, it was a watchtower, with an excellent view in all directions. There was 24-hour guard, and on the hour, the guard would blow a short tune on the trumpet 4 times - once towards each pole of the compass - to let everybody know that all was well. Alas, one day he was not so observant, and legend has it that the unseen Turks sent an arrow through his throat while he was playing. To this day, in memory of this event, a man plays the tune in the four directions, and always stops mid-tune. More on this later!

After all of this, we were pretty hungry, and we went to a typical Polish country food restaurant. Considering the rain and a temperature rarely above 10 degrees, the Borscht soup in a bread outer was really welcome, and you could understand how this was the way to get through the harsh winters. Marek told me that the strength of the winter was a reason why many tulips from Holland start in Poland. I didn’t quite believe this, but he assured me that the genetic strength created by bulbs being planted in such a cold climate meant that the tulips were more durable in bad weather seasons.

In the evening, we went for dinner in a restaurant in a cavern-like room downstairs. The waiter was immaculately dressed, the food was presented attractively, and the company was so warm. From the moment I met all of them, I felt comfortable. Marek and I have worked together for a year now, and I found him very straight and easy to work with. Outside of business, he is equally straightforward and very friendly. During the communist period, he left Poland to live in Sweden, to avoid going in the army, at a time when he spoke no English. It must have been tough, but certainly he is a strong person.

His wife, Magda, has been learning English only for a couple of months, but already understood much. I learned that she had played basketball for Poland in the Moscow Olympics – I was in awe! Then Tomek and Monika had arrived earlier. Monika works for a French Sports retailer, Decathlon, and speaks fluent French. Tomek, originally from Krakow, is also working for Canon, and his English is great – all in all, we found ways to communicate and chat about the way of life in Poland, their own lives, and the differences we see in our personal histories.

Especially the issue of independence keeps coming back to me. The Polish are quietly patriotic, and want to have their individual rights. Yet they also have a very collective spirit. My four companions made me feel very welcome and gave attention to telling me all about the town and what we saw. It was a touching show of friendship, with more warmth than I had ever been led to believe I would find in Poland.

The following morning, I went for a run in the city. After a while, I couldn’t find my way back to the hotel, and a passer-by was delighted to direct me in perfect English. After this, we had a tight schedule. First was to meet Tomek’s friend, Saso. He turned out to be very knowledgeable about Krakow, and he whisked us back to the tower. We found that he knew the trumpeter in the famous tower, and via a side entrance, we got privileged entry into one of the most famous places in Poland.

We climbed hundreds of stairs to get up to the place where he was playing, and found a kind of living quarters. It seems there are three trumpeters, taking 12-hour shifts each, and of course between the 2 minutes of playing every hour, there is not much to do, except wait. So there is a small bunk, a radio, kettle, fridge… all very normal, and yet not what you expect from the outside.

I was like a child as the trumpeter started, with pictures of him playing and me in the background. It was really lovely to hear it close up, and to see him wave to a few devoted fans in the square (or maybe they were Japanese tourists…). It felt like a piece of history before my eyes and ears. Meanwhile, Saso filled me in on what I could see in the four directions, including the 8th century mound in memory of the founder of Krakow, King Krak. I asked why he was so interested in the history of the town. He said he had lived in Krakow all his life, and that “I am part of Krakow’s history, Krakow’s history is a part of me”.

One more big stop was planned – Wieliczka, the salt mine nearby. We drove over to an uncrowded tourist attraction, and I must be honest, I did not expect much. But I was in for another surprise.

As we descended the hundreds of steps (we had been climbing up or down the whole trip by now), our guide explained that there were over 300 km of salt mines in the area. Salt had been precious because it was the only preservative known until more recent years, and this was a great source of wealth – even in pre-historic times, they think men mined for salt. As we walked through the caves, it was amazing. They had made all kinds of statues and displays in the caves that we saw, either showing the work of the people, or famous people from history. Copernicus (who believe it or not was Polish) has his own area, and of course, the Pope is also featured! The statues were made from black salt, and I had no idea that one could make salt-statues.

At various points there were some love themes. Saso sat on a bench at one stage, and our guide explained that if you sit on this bench, it means you are in love. Saso declined to comment. Later, we saw some gnomes, and legend had it that if you wanted to get married, you should kiss one on the cheek. However, it seems if you want to get divorced, you should kiss another part of his anatomy (although I think the guide made that up…). And at another cave, where there was a small pool of water, we were told that if you wanted to find the love of your life, you should throw in a few coins, as our guide added “if you’re desperate, throw in your credit card”. Ha, ha. I would have done it, but the PIN number doesn’t work…

Horses were seen in sculpture and we were told that once the horse came down the mine, it would live there for the rest of its life. I thought this not to be a very cheerful existence, but the guide assured me that with food and water guaranteed, it wasn’t so bad.
The most impressive room was a great chamber, with chandeliers, wall sculptures and shiny, hardened salt floor. As we went to an image of the Last Supper carved in salt, Saso (who by then had achieved “Authority” status for me) told me very seriously that this was the original that the painting had been based on. As my eyes widened, his smile came – of course, this was the dry Polish humour I had been told about.

Finally, we ascended by the same lift the miners would have used. It means, tight, crowded, claustrophobic, fast, and a little bit frightening. I was relieved to get out, but impressed by the experience of seeing this amazing mine.

We headed to Krakow airport, for me to fly back to Vienna. Krakow left a lasting impression on me, both for its beauty and history, and especially the companionship of my new Polish friends was something I could never have imagined.