How Low Can U Go. Notes of an Amsterdammed Freak. Part 3

When the mind is left in shambles, it's only you who can pick all the broken parts. Or leave them scattered around - this way one can never tell it's ever been a mess at all. Apparently it's been one of the main reasons for me taking life as it goes, still always having some dim perception of future destinations.

I'm desperately trying to make the whole something out of the pieces of the memories. But it's as hard to catch them slipping as to catch a fish with your bare hand. Or foot.
Amsterdam is the city of your unfulfilled dreams and expectations. Changing from free air of the narrow streets and wide boulevards, it feels like it's the place you've always wanted to settle down for a while, maybe taking up some small unimportant job, like spitting at your ceiling. I'd love to believe it's all about the people. It's all right to be attached to a new place when u're young. Apparently I haven't seen the rest of the world, and the parts of it leave such a special longing for it.
But getting back to people. If I could, I'd take a couple of them on board. But some why Aeroflot doesn't allow to take human beings (alive ones, God bless me) with you. I'd even throw away all the staff from the bags, leaving only a pack of stroopwafles and favorite CDs. I probably shouldn't attach to people that much - it gets harder to leave them behind.

As the story will go about all kinds of people, I have to warn U. There'll be no names, for they'll scarcely tell anything to a stranger. There'll be no pictures, except for mental ones, and perhaps the picture of eyes and facial expressions (I've been trying to remember the faces, but I failed - will have to work on it later).

The host of mine. That was the first "real" Amsterdam's native I met in the city. Easy-going, easy-telling and curious about everything, The first thing he did was handing a beer to me. And here I was standing like a fool with a beer in my hands, a silly smile on my face and million thoughts in my head. Where to put the suitcase? - Right on the floor. Ah, careful! Do not to crash it on the cat. The cat? What the... It's smiling at me. It can't be. No. It's my host face; cat is gone through the kitchen's door to the garden. Garden! He has a garden after all! Smells like roses and lilacs. Asking something. Yes? Had a great flight. What am I doing here? Good question...Oh yes! Cultural traveling...Couching traveling...
I catch a glance of two guitars - an acoustic and electric one - and all of a sudden the room feels much more comfortable and familiar. Much better now. The yellow glitter of the streetlamps and a small reading-lamp are the only sources of the light Comfortable enough to bring one to the thoughts about dozing a little bit. Or am I already sleeping? No. Here's the cat again, and it looks quite real. To my great surprise the fur is soft as a silk and eyes are smarter than many peoples'.
I want to thank my host for the exploring of the night Amsterdam. Going from bar to bar, getting chance to listen live to the rock and jazz bands. Smoke and music and a Mohito turned out to be a good company, suitable for the mood, time and place. And searching for the Surinam restaurant when the rain and wind seem to sweep you of your feet, then again choosing a small street café with a fireplace and drunk waiter will also stay in my mind for a long time.

I'll keep silent about the hospitable and optimistic people of Rotterdam. For they all were the breath of fresh air for me. There were moments when I couldn't tell if they were serious or just joking. But this special way of keeping the conversation going worth all the misunderstanding that can appear. And when U're finally into it, its hard to stop. Little bit of craziness, little bit of Indian spices, little bit of congeniality...A little bit of this and that. And it all makes bright and dear people of Rotterdam seem as your long-distance relatives.

But the most interesting meetings were waiting for its moment back in Amsterdam.

The scenery for the first one was perfect. One can tell that rainy clouds have left for a while, letting a wonderful warm evening begin. Even city seemed to slower its pace and just enjoy the beat of the thousand legs striding along the streets of the Dam Square.
Weird as it may seem, but the personage of the meeting seemed to come right of the scenery - so well he suited the warm spirit of summer wine floating in the air. He seemed inseparable from the surrounding - the city existed for this character, not he existed for the city.
Still, until the very kiss-goodbye I cannot tell that he was near me. His body, his unnaturally long fingers, always drumming some rhythm on any surface they can reach, his voice and smile was there, with the world. But the real him, the guy who writes and creates and dreams was never close enough. There were moments when I cold feel that I almost reached his mind. I may even believe it was close to me. But not nearly close enough
He's different.
These two sides of him - the open and the closed one - is something that attracts irresistibly. But now as I come to think of it, the dearest side, the side of dreamer and creator, is so much easier and natural. I would never thought that maturity and the amazing child's desire for opening new things can find such a perfect combination in a human being. But now I know for sure.
I have no idea whether I'll meet this person again or not. But I deeply hope that somewhere, maybe not soon enough, but somewhere, faith will give me a kick into direction to this beautiful soul of his.

The second meeting is closely connected with the first one. And as future showed, was not less, or perhaps, even more weighty and important than the first one.
He seemed to be a complete antipode of the first character. But so it was even more thrilling to watch them first together, and then separately.
If you wake me up at night, and say his name into my ear, the first thing I'll remember will be the smile on his face. I bet he's the most smiling person I met on my way so far. Even when the topic of a conversation is far from a random one, and touches some personal points, the smile would never leave his face. And it's immediately makes you smile in return. You feel like all the troubles, all the dangers that can ever happen, will pass you by, just because the smile of his is always near u. How can the world around be cruel or unfair to someone when such a smile is shining on u? So whether I wanted or not, but resisting it was way beyond me.
There are many things to remember. And not a single one to forget.
Saying goodbye every time as if it was the last. And then meeting the next day just because the irresistible power makes u wonder and keeps repeating in your ear : While u're here, get the chance, enjoy the people, enjoy the moments. Who cares what will be after? There's only one time - here and now. Send it all to hell. Give way to heavens. Isn't it the thing that brought u here?
There's a thing that cannot be changed. Unfortunately people don't change in a twinkle of an eye. They can only leave - fast and without a notice - in another twinkle.

There are things to be said. There are people to be thankful for. There are so much more I'd love to say.
Maybe it'll be remembered as a greatest time of my life. Maybe it will be one of the many mores - for which I hope.

In any case - Thank you. For everything and everyone on the way.
We may never meet again. U all have became a part of my life, and from that time on just inseparable in some way from my mind, but mostly, from my heart.

And there U'll always be