How About Some GOOD News?

I don't know about you, but I feel a general sense of change for the better around me. A number of positive things are happening which give me the feeling that the air of crisis and doom is lifting.

One ex-Canon friend of mine, who had gone through the summer feeling like the job market was dead, suddenly has one offer with a great organisation, and another offer in the pipeline. Another friend also had a very interesting job offer and meanwhile is getting 2 calls from Headhunters a week. My brother rode out a difficult re-organisation, coming out the other side with a new role.

My friend Sonny has made a breakthrough in his career recenly. Currently he's making the most of a posting with IBM in India, being trained as an SAP consultant. How cool is that! You can read his blog at http://sonnysindiaadventure.blogspot.com/.

Meanwhile, all the signs in the economy are that things are at least bottomed-out and ready for recovery, if not already so. That means that companies will plan their headcount budgets for next year a little more optimistically. Recruitment freezes will start to thaw in the last quarter of this year and especially in the first quarter of 2010.

Almost every day I hear some new change among my ex-Canon friends looking for a new role. The first months seem to have been difficult for all, but gradually people are having interviews and getting closer to new positions, or finding them already. Summer is over - the job-market is moving.

It's amazing how the sense of gloom is contagious. There was a period around April-early July when the news was bad, the atmosphere at my old company was naturally difficult and the general feeling among friends was not positive. It genuinely feels that atmosphere is lifting and the new catching disease is optimism. Even my running is improving (the pic is of me after a 10km dune run - the gray skies could not stop me running a minute faster than I hoped!)

As for me, I have a very odd sense right now that this might be my last month living permanently in Amsterdam. I don't have any firm plan about that - the experiences of the 5-month world trip from Mid-October will make clear what the next steps should be. And I will visit Amsterdam for the rest of my life no matter where I go. Living in this city transformed my life.

This morning especially I feel a creeping feeling of gradually leaving something great behind and moving onto a great next step, wherever and whatever that may be.

A Question of Identity

I left England in 1998, coming to Holland without any serious thought beyond "that seems like a good chance - let's go". Instinctively, I knew I had to go beyond current boundaries.

Just 2 days before leaving, I had quit my job and apartment - no other preparation had been done. But then, the roots of my life in England were so loose - no wife and children, no owned home and my recent history of moving 13 times in 10 years had resulted in very few firm friendships. In 2 days, I shut down my English existence, packed my stuff, called the gas and electricity companies, put the keys through the door and left.

In the following 12 years, living in Holland and Austria, I have tried to learn the secret of being an International Englishman. This secret came to me thanks to working in the melting pot of my company, with its diverse group of nationalities, and especially through working with Japanese colleagues - such a different culture to my own. One of the first big realisations came quickly - that speaking "English English" was not going to help me communicate with people.

This meant a fundamental difference in my conversation with others. The English language is full of slang, strange sayings and little oddities, things that mean absolutely nothing to a foreigner. Naturally, as an island of 60 million people, English culture has a massive focus on all things English. TV, Radio, Newspapers & Politics fuel the native humour which is quick to find its target and push it over the edge.

I learned that "International English" is not like that at all. It is a simpler and more universal way of communication. That simplicity is so essential for a multi-cultural environment, where English cultural references mean precisely nothing. It proves that Language is Culture. And I realised that if I wanted to understand other nationalities' culture, I would have to learn International English, by mirroring the way that people from different countries communicated in the common language.

For 12 years, I have concentrated on this. If language is culture, then I believe I was constantly making an attempt to dilute my own cultural sense of Being English in the interests of understanding a wider set of cultures. By flattening my vocabulary and removing slang and typical home humour from my conversation, and by seeking the commonality among many languages and the way other nationalities communicate and laugh with people in English, I made a sub-conscious decision to to shut down (or at least suppress) a part of my English identity.

That decision has served me well and it seemed no price to pay. After all, I was living in a foreign country surrounded by people from all over the world speaking my language. The least I could do was to make an effort to be understandable.

Over the years, I have met people from so many different countries and increasingly been able to communicate with them in English on an equal level. Non-native speakers are often nervous about speaking English to a native speaker because they become more conscious of making mistakes, thinking perfection is required. But I always tried to put them at ease by saying "don't worry about accuracy of grammar - I can understand you, we can communicate, that's all that matters."

I never thought there would be a price to pay for that choice. But now that I am spending more time with groups of English-only people, I am reminded that there is always a price to pay for going for what you want, small or large.

Recently in the UK at a party of Nicki's friends, I had my first taste of culture shock - in my own country. I could understand the words of the conversation, but often I had no idea of the real meaning. I don't know what is on TV or what's going on in politics over there. I don't listen to English radio or read the newspapers. Suddenly, I felt like a stranger - it was hard to contribute as the quick-fire humour passed me by. My English language is outdated by 12 years, because I have not been immersed in the country's culture for 12 years. It was a genuine shock and it knocked me sideways.

And I will get through it. Come on, I tell myself, I learned to speak German in Austria and a good amount of Dutch in Holland. How difficult can it be for an Englishman (no matter how International) to learn English English?

And despite the discomfort and shock of this disconnection (the Dutch word is 'vervreemd' - it more accurately expresses what I felt), I don't regret one single thing. That decision, so lightly taken all those years ago, to leave my home country and seek something wider resulted in exposure to such an incredible diversity of people and cultures. Surely it has made me a better person.

It took me 12 years to learn how to be an International Englishman. It will take much less to learn to be English again. But it will take time.

Contrasting Squares

A city of contrasts. I believe that's what we all love, the contrast to what we are used to. Maybe that is why we love Amsterdam.

The peace of the Hofje. The green, the calm, space, solitude, earnest learning of the university building, Minerva's wisdom.

The bustle of Nieuwmarkt. The market, terrace bar wisdom, tourists and locals mixed in this old place. De Waag dominates the square - the ancient castle-like building where merchants weighed their goods.

It's a mound of sounds. Car engines, bike bells tinging, voices, chains, squeaking breaks, coughs and splutters, high-heeled footsteps, a louder engine, English, Spanish and Dutch voices, a baby crying, a stool squeaking.

Nieuwmarkt - remarkably, the site of riots just 40 years ago, Most of the people here - mostly tourists - would be amazed to know of the riots. But I know and am always amazed too. To think this place, where we drink our tea and write our words, was the scene of police-truncheon violence and water cannon as the protesters against the demolition of old buildings to make way for the new Metro were herded away.

But much worse lies deeper, the war history. I feel it when I come here, ever since I learned that this was the Jewish quarter of a city known as Mokum (Yiddish for "Safe Haven"). Tens of thousands were removed from the area in the war. Of 80,000 Jews in Mokum before the war, just 5,000 survived. 5,000.

This deep sadness and shame of Amsterdam. We talked about it, Tine and I - she described it as "A Wounded City". Unspoken. Unspeakable. Not to be spoken of.The city recovered. Of course it did, life moves on and nearly 70 years have passed now since the war. 34 years have passed since the riots and the demolition of the rotting but beautiful buildings that stood in the way of the progress of the city.

And the Nieuwmarkt square goes about its life, serving up a beautiful atmosphere of the world moving, oblivious to the past and enjoying a present, peaceful and busy Amsterdam moment.

Calm moments in the Hofje

When the sun shines in Amsterdam, it's like God is Dutch. It makes the city feel different, people look different, walk a little less hurriedly, enjoy the moment more.

Sitting in a 'Hofje' I have never sat in before (a Hofje is a small coutryard). That's also Amsterdam for me. It's not a huge city, but still after 12 years I find places even close to the centre which are new and involving.

It's just off the alleyway with bookstalls, between two streets in the Nieuwmarkt area. I've walked through that alleyway 50 times. Why did I never see this small square of peace and stillness in the heart of things?

I sit and breathe in the clear air and the almost-silence, even though I am encircled by the city. I feel the warm breeze on my skin. Surrounded by green. Are the plants symmetrical? No, the Red Beech is only on one corner. But the rest of the plants and trees are in all four corners. My knowledge is too limited to name them, but I feel good to be among them.

Green. Sunny. Calming. Intriguing, with a statue of Minerva centring a ring of roses. Why Minerva? Of course, this is part of the university. Minerva is the Goddess of Wisdom in Greek Mythology.

The bench I sit on is wooden, solid. It's been here for years. So many people have sat here – preparing for tests, lectures, presentations. Or just tourists passing through. As I am leaving, a group of Spanish tourists come in with a guide – my timing has been lucky. It would have been a different moment had I arrived with them.

Years ago, I visited Hofje after Hofje with a German friend. She had come to Amsterdam on a mission – visit all the suggested locations in her guidebook. We raced through 10 courtyards in less than an hour. I don't remember even one of those little squares. We just ticked them off her list, never truly experienced them.

But I will remember this one, come here again, and again experience this moment of peace. Next time it might rain, another time it could be just cold, another windy. But this moment of warmth and peace will live again in my Amsterdam memory.

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.