The news has arrived: I will have to leave my present house. My landlady is coming back soon, and to stay.
What a pity. She loved India. Probably, she came of the opinion that India is a place to visit, but not a place to live. And, apparently, the love of one of the greatest body artists in the world was not enough to convince her.
I will stay here at least until mid-February, hopefully I will have found something else by that date. The date of the actual moving will probably not be sad, since I will be happy about the new place. But today, it is. I look around, see the walls, the furniture, the sight from the window. I came here almost 15 months ago, and already on the first day I said "This is my new house. This is my house".
And now, the same walls, the same furniture, mean something different. They are telling to me: "Forget us. In a few days, you won't see us anymore". Why?
In those times, I only think about good things. The space. The light. The neighbours asking me if I liked the place and the country, and always being kind to me. Not everything was good. But I cannot think about what was bad right now. Only good things come to my mind. I will lose everything related to this house forever. And I can only think about the good things I will lose forever.
When I left Italy to come here, I missed nothing. I was just happy. I only thought about how beautiful the future would be. Now, I'm just sad. I only think about how beautiful the past was.
And a particular mention goes to the bike. This is also not mine, but my landlady's. It is old. It is rusty. The saddle has a hole exposing the inner sponge, so, when it rains, the sponge soaks and when I sit my bum gets wet. It makes all sorts of strange noises when pedalling. It forced me to plug leaks 10 times. And, yet, I grew so fond of it. It is freedom of movement. It is rewarding. It gives me power, strength. I can reach faraway places (well, never more than 30 km) with my own legs, thanks to this little old rusty piece of iron.
I am still here, but it is already time for farewell, a few days in advance. Farewell, my beautiful house in Amsterdam East. Farewell, rusty old Gazelle bike. I will miss you, sorely. You entered my life, deeply. And now you are parting, and your place inside me will be empty. And it hurts.
If I feel so much sorrow for such unimportant details, it means that there are no bigger worries.
It's the only positive thing I can think about now.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Weather storm
It's a beautiful song by Massive Attack. But it's also what everyone in Amsterdam (and in the whole Northern Europe) experienced exactly one week ago, last Thursday.
In the morning it rained, so I left my bike and took the tram. It would turn out to be one of the wisest decisions in my life. I noticed that something was wrong: Dutch people were using umbrellas. Dutch people are waterproof, they normally walk and bike under the rain as if nothing was happening. And my umbrella flipped 5 or 6 times because of the wind in the short time from exiting from home to entering the tram.
But the worst had yet to come. The wind got stronger and stronger, rain didn't stop, the noise coming from the (closed) windows was scarier and scarier. Luckily I brought something for lunch, so I didn't have to go out to get it, and that was also very wise.
Later in the afternoon, we had the first news that some Christmas light decorations fell on the tram's aerial cables, very close to the office. It was dangerous to use that street, and the trams were detoured.
Train traffic was severely disrupted, bad news from commuters. Web sites kept saying that there were some trains running, maybe leaving from stations further away. Then, police ordered that all trains stopped. It was the hell for commuters and travelling people in general. A colleague, desperate because there was no way for him to come home near The Hague, begged me for a place to spend the night. So I ended up letting him sleep in my living room. And he can consider himself lucky: in Amsterdam and Utrecht, exhibition centers were turned into refugee camps, in order to let stranded people sleep under a roof. The media said that about 200.000 people in Holland could not spend the night at their home.
The day after was extraordinarily clear and sunny.
In the morning it rained, so I left my bike and took the tram. It would turn out to be one of the wisest decisions in my life. I noticed that something was wrong: Dutch people were using umbrellas. Dutch people are waterproof, they normally walk and bike under the rain as if nothing was happening. And my umbrella flipped 5 or 6 times because of the wind in the short time from exiting from home to entering the tram.
But the worst had yet to come. The wind got stronger and stronger, rain didn't stop, the noise coming from the (closed) windows was scarier and scarier. Luckily I brought something for lunch, so I didn't have to go out to get it, and that was also very wise.
Later in the afternoon, we had the first news that some Christmas light decorations fell on the tram's aerial cables, very close to the office. It was dangerous to use that street, and the trams were detoured.
Train traffic was severely disrupted, bad news from commuters. Web sites kept saying that there were some trains running, maybe leaving from stations further away. Then, police ordered that all trains stopped. It was the hell for commuters and travelling people in general. A colleague, desperate because there was no way for him to come home near The Hague, begged me for a place to spend the night. So I ended up letting him sleep in my living room. And he can consider himself lucky: in Amsterdam and Utrecht, exhibition centers were turned into refugee camps, in order to let stranded people sleep under a roof. The media said that about 200.000 people in Holland could not spend the night at their home.
The day after was extraordinarily clear and sunny.
Eat, eat, eat
I came back from Italy to Holland with a suitcase full of food. Specialties, liquours, cakes... everything lekker that Italy has to offer. I didn't think I was this nationalist before coming here.
So, what does one do with food? You've guessed it!
On the first day at work, panettone and pandoro day again, just like last year.
Then, I invited my Italian colleagues at home, to eat zampone (pig's leg, typical for New Year's Day) and lentils. Only, Elisa told me that she needed all the zamponi, because she invited seventeen people for dinner. The situation was solved by having a zampone sent by mail in a parcel. So I, my colleagues and some friends of friends gathered at my house and enjoyed. Despite being the first time with a lot of messy organization, the zampone turned out to be good.
Last Monday, it was the turn of Elisa's 17 friends, and the neighbour downstairs, who also lent many chairs which made the thing possible. Incredible but true, it worked! Two friends of Elisa's, both Italian, helped a lot (I didn't), and all the Dutch and not Dutch people who were present appreciated. Some even said it was the best dinner of their lives. The menu was staggering: crostini (small pieces of roasted bread) with tomato and garlic, with liver paté, with olives paté; raw ham, mortadella, finocchiona (a special salami aromatized with fennel seeds); bucatini all'amatriciana; linguine al pesto; zampone (again) with lentils; panettone, panforte, mascarpone cream, brutti ma buoni (a meringue candy); Lavazza coffee; liquour as "coffee killer"; lots and lots of wine. It's amazing we survived. I ate left-overs of that dinner for all the following lunches and dinners until today (except yesterday's dinner). And there's still something left.
And yesterday, there was a dinner with a selected group of colleagues, all working on the same product, but on different sides: development, testing, product management. And it was great fun. At work, people often talk about work, because it's the only common ground. During lunch breaks, in front of the coffee machine, on the Fridays at De Heeren Van Aemstel or Coco's, at the company-organized parties, you really make friends, and contact with people is always an enriching experience. And, often, you get to discover hidden sides of people, which is always a surprise. Shy, silent people, who do not look interested to anything else but work, open up and show others their world, their experiences, their life. As they say, If I give you an idea and you give me an idea, we'll both have two ideas. Among the discoveries, the most amazing was that one of the product managers, born in India, lived most of his life in England, was part of the RAF, was in the Falklands during the war, and he lived 2 years at just 10 kilometers from where I was born! The world is really small.
So, what does one do with food? You've guessed it!
On the first day at work, panettone and pandoro day again, just like last year.
Then, I invited my Italian colleagues at home, to eat zampone (pig's leg, typical for New Year's Day) and lentils. Only, Elisa told me that she needed all the zamponi, because she invited seventeen people for dinner. The situation was solved by having a zampone sent by mail in a parcel. So I, my colleagues and some friends of friends gathered at my house and enjoyed. Despite being the first time with a lot of messy organization, the zampone turned out to be good.
Last Monday, it was the turn of Elisa's 17 friends, and the neighbour downstairs, who also lent many chairs which made the thing possible. Incredible but true, it worked! Two friends of Elisa's, both Italian, helped a lot (I didn't), and all the Dutch and not Dutch people who were present appreciated. Some even said it was the best dinner of their lives. The menu was staggering: crostini (small pieces of roasted bread) with tomato and garlic, with liver paté, with olives paté; raw ham, mortadella, finocchiona (a special salami aromatized with fennel seeds); bucatini all'amatriciana; linguine al pesto; zampone (again) with lentils; panettone, panforte, mascarpone cream, brutti ma buoni (a meringue candy); Lavazza coffee; liquour as "coffee killer"; lots and lots of wine. It's amazing we survived. I ate left-overs of that dinner for all the following lunches and dinners until today (except yesterday's dinner). And there's still something left.
And yesterday, there was a dinner with a selected group of colleagues, all working on the same product, but on different sides: development, testing, product management. And it was great fun. At work, people often talk about work, because it's the only common ground. During lunch breaks, in front of the coffee machine, on the Fridays at De Heeren Van Aemstel or Coco's, at the company-organized parties, you really make friends, and contact with people is always an enriching experience. And, often, you get to discover hidden sides of people, which is always a surprise. Shy, silent people, who do not look interested to anything else but work, open up and show others their world, their experiences, their life. As they say, If I give you an idea and you give me an idea, we'll both have two ideas. Among the discoveries, the most amazing was that one of the product managers, born in India, lived most of his life in England, was part of the RAF, was in the Falklands during the war, and he lived 2 years at just 10 kilometers from where I was born! The world is really small.
Holidays
Long time between the end of the Christmas holidays and the relevant post. Nothing special, apart that they were long. Slept a lot. Visited a lot of friends in little time. Including Nicola, who some weeks earlier had come to Amsterdam for a meeting of the Phosphorus project, and, at 19 years, is the longest-time friend I have (relatives not included). New Year's Day celebration was boring, and the way I was convinced to take part to it is better left untold.
Highlights: a visit to Sant'Anna (famous for a very sad event occurred during World War II, and at the same time a very nice and quiet place among woods and mountains) and Colonnata, a small town surrounded by mountains and marble quarries, and famous for its lard.
I also scratched my father's new, big, fast car. But, strangely, he didn't kill me for that.
Highlights: a visit to Sant'Anna (famous for a very sad event occurred during World War II, and at the same time a very nice and quiet place among woods and mountains) and Colonnata, a small town surrounded by mountains and marble quarries, and famous for its lard.
I also scratched my father's new, big, fast car. But, strangely, he didn't kill me for that.
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