Seasons on the Move

Amsterdam to London – March 17

We left the apartment and went down to Central Station in the early afternoon to catch a train back out to the airport. Neither Mike or I had heard from the CFC. We had checked our emails and found nothing. Perhaps no news is good news, but somehow neither of us thought that was the case.

At the airport, we parted ways with Mike and Jen for the fifth time on our trip, leaving them at their departure gate. They were on their way back to Canada, we were going back to London. Mike and I had hoped to hear back from the CFC before leaving. Unfortunately, we were both still in limbo. That is, I was in limbo until I got back to London and found a standard issue, thanks but no thanks, impersonal, ¨due to the many high qualified applicants¨, fuck off email in my inbox. Oh well, what can you do?

Amsterdam – March 16

It rained all day and wrecked any chance of being productive. Instead, we sat by the bay window and watched the rain fall and long barges trudge along down the canal. Mike and I talked about our chances of getting in to the Canadian Film Centre, he was typically pessimistic, but I thought we both stood a good shot at getting an interview. Not quite the way we wanted to spend our last day in Holland, but the company was good and the coffee was hot.

Amsterdam – March 15

We had another lengthy, indulgent breakfast and then headed out for the day. We walked through the city, alongside the canals, talking about things of importance to us: films, books, music and our mutual existential crises. Days like this always remind of Woody Allen movies. People on antiquated bicycles pedalled by us and the constant stream of trams made crossing the roads a challenge. Narrow brown brick buildings lined the wet streets and stretched upwards as though squeezed to new heights by the pressure of the city blocks. The crowded, crooked roads led into wide piazzas full of wicker chairs and Heineken umbrellas. I think all four of us were surprised by the amount of tourists in the city given that it was mid-March, dreary and cold.

We floated in and out of coffeeshops along the way and eventually ended up in the city´s Red Light District. Under the glow of neon lights and the creeping night, we cruised the sordid streets looking at the prostitutes in the windows, appropriately rimmed in red neon, and the other depraved store front displays. One prostitute worked on a Sudoku while another had a snack. To be honest, the area, at least the way I remembered it from ten years ago, seemed to be a little gentrified. Mixed in with all the sex and drugs were cafes selling fair trade coffee and restaurants serving organic food.

We returned to the apartment after dark, made ourselves some food and then tucked into a couple movies. I thought ¨Superbad¨ was pure dross, but ¨No Country For Old Men¨ hit the mark. I had wanted to see the film since reading the Cormac McCarthy book in India. Although the movie deserved the praise heaped upon it, I still think ¨The Big Lebowski¨ is the Coen brothers´ finest moment.

Amsterdam – March 14

We stayed up late the night before drinking red wine, smoking grass (another national specialty) and generally amusing ourselves. We got up late, made a big breakfast and then sat around for the rest of the morning drinking coffee and talking about our plans upon returning to Canada. Mike and I were hoping to hear back from the Canadian Film Centre in the next couple of days. If all went well, we would be set up for the next half year in school. If all fell apart, well, those were the plans we were trying to make over breakfast, which spilled into a spontaneous lunch and then more coffee.

Later in the day, we went for a walk through Vondel Park, stopping to take pictures of ducks and trees with barren limbs. By the time the sun began to set, we made our way back to the apartment. After another stop at the grocery store, we made dinner, watched a couple of movies and stuffed our faces with junk food.