6/20/24
Newsletter #620
The Crack of Dawn
I’m back in Michigan, which is in the midst of a heat wave. It’s supposed to go up to 95-degrees today. That’s too hot for me.
So, I could easily and happily live in Haarlem. They not only don’t care what’s going on in the U.S.; I never even heard it discussed. I did bring up the subject of our upcoming election a couple of times, but as a conversational subject it had no traction. The person replied, “And how about that election in India?” India has more to do with Holland than does the U.S.
When I arrived at Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam on June 12, I rode the train to Haarlem, which was took 35 minutes. The Haarlem train station is at the north end of the city center and my hotel, the Carlton Square, is one canal below the city center. It didn’t appear to be all that far, maybe a mile or a mile and a half, so I’d just grab a cab. But the first thing I did was to walk around the neighborhood, which was enchanting. It was populated, but not overly so, with people hurrying back and forth, and it was quiet – there aren’t very many cars, which are mostly forbidden in the city center – and the sound difference was noticeable: I could hear the birds and the wind. Every now and then, church bells.
Within a few blocks I located the Empire Coffeeshop, which was just opening. The store was being vacuumed and arranged by an attractive blonde woman in her mid-40s named was Nikki. She sold me a gram of terrific weed and a coffee, while being very friendly and cordial. And attractive, did I mention that? Anyway, I sat out on the patio in the chilly sun, beside a Portuguese fellow named Aubrey, nearly my age (three years younger, I found out). We began talking and though he was bright and well-spoken, he launched into a song and dance about how everybody was stupid, particularly the young. I said, “I don’t think the percentage of stupid people has gone up, just the population.” Aubrey wasn’t buying my theory. He considered himself exceptionally wise in his years, but really wasn’t, and said, “You can call me Aubrey Wan Kenobe.” Really? I told him I’d take it under advisement. I went inside, paid my bill, ingratiated myself to Nikki, and said, ala Arnold, “I’ll be back.” She said, “Yes. Enjoy Haarlem.”
Outside, with my turquoise rolling suitcase and brown leather backpack awaiting me, as was Aubrey, still seated where he had been, I said, “I’ll just grab a cab to my hotel.” Aubrey stood up, put his hand on my shoulder and seriously advised me, “Don’t take a taxi. There aren’t very many taxies [and he was right]. Just walk there. It’s that way here,” and he pointed.
I had just flown eight hours, plus the train ride, and I really wanted to check in to the hotel. However, Aubrey (Wan Kenobe) said it with such sincerity, implying that if I took a taxi, I was missing the point of Haarlem right away. So I just started walking. And my two bags are heavy, and the wheels aren’t so great, and the entire city is paved with cobblestones. And the upper half of the city center, beside having the train station, is completely residential. There are not cafes on every corner, or any sort of landmarks. And the streets curve around, then sometimes dead end, sending you up a street or an alley going the other way. Soon, I didn’t know where the fuck I was. Nor were there any taxies.
This isn’t a tale of great adventure. I did, however, manage to never get angry. I finally made it far enough south to enter the city center, which led me, slowly, but inexorably to my hotel. By the time I arrived at the Carleton Square Hotel (with a Cannabis Coffeeshop directly across the street), I was an extremely pleased, great big sweaty mess.
Here’s the thing, I never did get back to the Empire Coffeeshop, or even that part of town. I got caught in the city center area, and I swear, I couldn’t get out. And I didn’t want to. It was so wonderful that I wanted to stop at every café and have a cup of coffee and start a conversation. I spoke with many of the people how happened to be seated near me. Haarlemers, I found, were perfectly happy to talk and listen, and were not stupid at all. They’re very calm, ready to smile (given a reason) and attractive.
In conclusion, I started visiting Amsterdam in 1995, which was nearly 30 years ago, and I don’t even know how many times people said to me, “Have you been to Haarlem?” And I’d say, “No,” and they would say, “It’s even better than Amsterdam.”
Then I just found myself there and you know what? It is better than Amsterdam. In the last 30 years Amsterdam has grown into a very big city. A mad rushing metropolis. Haarlem is smaller and way kicked back.
I’ve been receiving listings of flat rentals for about a year from a place called Only Expats. Six-month to one-year rentals. All of them have to have some sort of outside area, a deck or a balcony, even if they’re really small. There are many flats fitting my description.
I’ll insert some pictures.
I’m pleased to say that it was a joyous vacation.