The previous night I shouted K and P to an Indian dinner at the Gandhi restaurant. After that I met up with the Dutch couple I had met in Gibara in Cuba, who lived nearby, for a nightcap in a cafe near Haarlem's cathedral. We exchanged travel stories.
In the morning I caught the bus to P's place and gave her a quick slide show of my travels. I also had enough time to quickly check my email. Then I said my goodbyes and caught the Zuidtangent to Schiphol Airport. I didn't find anything I wanted in duty-free so I had 400€ left over. That was a problem because I didn't think I would be back soon because old Europe was so familiar to me now. I thought next time I would visit Asia or South America instead. (Note from the future: In 2007 I decided to visit the Adriatic coast, so that money came in handy after all.)
It's now 2011 as I finish this blog. Reading my diary from a distance of 7 years, I notice that it feels like 3 separate trips, one to Western Europe, one to Cuba, and one to the Canary Islands; so different were the environments. But when I was on the road, it didn't feel that way. Each part of the trip was a natural progression from the last. Perhaps that's a model for life. In hindsight, a given period of your life will bear little resemblance to the previous. Sometimes the transitions are obvious: graduating from school, getting married, etc. These are the occasions for celebration. Sometimes the changes are strokes of fate. Sometimes after a small change, you imagine things will be as before, but they really won't.
I still had uncertainty hanging over me. When I got home I had to find a job. But after what I had been through in my travels, it would be just another detail on the road of life. And that realisation was the journey's gift to me.
Some of my roommates came in late last night. Some of them slept two to a bunk to avoid making noise making up beds, something they had neglected to do before going carousing. In the morning the woman in a blue dress was there as I checked out of the hostel.
I had an uneventful trip to Barcelona. I decided to catch the subway to see the forum site. It was a waste of a fare, the site wasn't complete and entry was restricted to participants anyway. I took this picture and left.
Back at Plaça Catalunya I bought 1€ of Internet time, dealt with my email, then had a sandwich in the attached cafe before catching the train to the airport. I was early so I read the El Pais that had been given to me for free at the forum.
On the plane I found myself seated next to a petite Turkish woman. She was reading a biography of Atatürk in English so I struck up a conversation. She was a political science graduate student in the US, had just presented a conference paper and taking a trip to Izmit to see her family. Her hair was a bit unkempt because she had spent the last few days in a hostel. We had a great conversation about political systems in countries around the world. She was interested in my observations of Cuba. She was pessimistic about Turkey, and felt that it had missed a chance in the 60's for development. I realised after we parted at Schiphol that we hadn't even got around to introducing ourselves. I wondered too if I should have chatted up the woman in the blue dress back in Girona. Oh well.
The bus back to Heemstede was like clockwork. Back at P and K's place I found that they had two women guests, a USAn and a German who had attended graduate school with P in the US. We had a jolly Indian takeaway dinner. The conversation ranged from reminiscences about grad student life, the status of women in Germany and the weather in the south of the US. The Canarian goat cheese, honey and palm honey that I had brought back were sampled and declared interesting by all.
The overnight flight was uneventful and we landed on time at Schiphol. The baggage was a little delayed though. I caught the Zuidtangent to Schalkwijk, bought groceries and another strippenkaart, and had lunch.
I went over to P's place and the washing machine took 3-½ hours to do my laundry. But it was a very good machine and everything came out spotless. While the machine slaved away I regaled P with the story of my trip and photos. Then I went back to the flat to rest and to repack for the next segment of my trip. It was noticeably warmer than when I set out for Cuba; pleasant and cool after the tropical heat and humidity of Cuba.
In the evening I missed the bus to their place, so I walked for 20 minutes. The tranquility and beauty of the Dutch landscape soothed me and filled my veins with calm. I gave the cigars and rum to K. It was a short day, but I had to leave for Barcelona the next day.
I woke up with a sore throat and a bit of a headache. Perhaps I might need for myself all the cold remedies I was taking to Cuba.
I bought some cheese and berry juice for breakfast the next day. The bakery where I bought a loaf of crusty white was closed later in the day. Here, unlike some other countries, shops open only the necessary hours and don't stay open just for the sake of making more money. At the Schalkwijk shopping centre I noted that not much had changed in the Netherlands I knew. It has always had an air of restraint due to Calvinist influences; no ostentatious displays of wealth.
Then I walked over to K and P's place to get my clothes washed and tumble dried. Her parents were there and her father was varnishing a table. I had a conversation with them in Dutch. It was not easy for me inspite of the two terms of Dutch lessons I had taken. I lacked enough vocabulary and my grammar was shaky. But they were pleased that I had made the effort.
In the evening I went to an Indonesian-Chinese restaurant for takeaway. I suspected that it was run by Chinese and the Indonesian items and menus were there because that's what the Dutch are familiar with. I had the Babi Pangang, stir-fried grilled pork in chili sauce. Pork is surely not a Muslim food. I took more tablets and had an early night for a change.
The flight was uneventful and I sailed through immigration and customs. I located the Zuidtangent bus stop easily and the bus came even before I had a chance to take a photo. I got off on a quiet street just outside Schalkwijk Centrum and walked to the home of my friends P and K. It was still early in the morning and they were slightly unprepared due to the unexpected early arrival of the flight and the lack of delays entering the Netherlands.
After breakfast and a shower they took me for a tour of Zandvoort. This is the Beverly Hills of the Netherlands, they said, as we drove down Zandvoorterweg towards the beach. Many wealthy Dutch live in this strip of the country, according to them. The wind was stiff, cold and stinging, but the sunshine was welcome. It was not the season yet, so the place was mostly deserted. We had coffee in a cafe. All the time we were catching up with each other's news.
The opening up of the Eastern Europe countries has had a flow-on effect on Western Europe countries. Manufacturing jobs have gone to cheaper countries and factories have closed. The population pyramid has contracted at the bottom and planners are wondering how to pay for the retirement benefits of the current workforce.
Heemstede has a standard set of shops: supermarket, Hema, hardware store, cheese shop, wine shop, etc. Everything was as before, and yet not as before. The local sector can only provide so much employment. Where will the other jobs come from? A mutual friend of ours had changed careers a couple of times. Lifetime employment is a thing of the past.
They had a spare room above K's practice where they installed me. We walked to a nearby snack bar and had a snack of frites met mayo, to indulge my nostalgia.
There was a tree just outside my window in glorious bloom. I seem to remember being told it was an almond tree. I'm so ignorant of botany.
