My time in Eden

Everything you've heard about Amsterdam is true. There are whores in lighted windows, fat joints to be had for six guilders (around $2.75), beer, genever (gin) and cognac more accessible than McDonald's. There are many canals, beautiful architecture and interesting historical sites at each corner.\nIt was my No. 1 choice of places to see in the world, and now that I have seen it, I know I made a good choice.\nBeing of sound mind, if not body, Charles and I took it easy on the licentiousness, walked and took the public transit, which is more obscenely and gloriously available than any vice. We took the train to Haarlem and Den Haag, we walked into vast old churches so cold that we put our gloves back on (not the hats, though -- we are talking churches).\nWe stayed in a gay guesthouse in the Jordaan district, around the corner from the Westerkerk -- a study in stone elegance topped with the gaudy crown of a Holy Roman Emperor. We strolled the Red Light District mostly as a passage to other places, to the Oudekerk (the old church), but only during the day -- the conservatism of our ages. We dodged the astounding number of people on bikes, the occasional driver on the sidewalk, the gawking standstill of tourist clutches gazing up in wonderment at thus and such, usually stepping in dog droppings which are neither curbed nor cleaned. \nWe wanted to know the city, the people and how they lived. Mostly, we wanted to see how a society that doesn't deign to pass judgment on every human folly goes through each day.\nI think the city we witnessed was not the place we imagined it to be: it was both better and worse than imagination could frame it without facts. My theory is that the people of Amsterdam are rather laid back because they have to be -- we didn't see rush hours (although it was a holiday season), traffic jams or the rush to open anything much before 10 a.m.\nTaking my pills on schedule was the most grueling affair. Because of the time differences, I had to wake up at 4 a.m., go back to bed, jam in some food by 11 a.m. (hard to do in a city that considers breakfast a chance to have ham and cheese) and then not eat lunch until the noon pill time hadmellowed into 1 p.m. The dinner hour was difficult, too -- eat at 5:30 p.m. or so, stop eating by 6:30 p.m. or so, take pills at 8 p.m., and then start all over again.\nIt is a trial to eat fast in Amsterdam unless you wish to eat a Tosti (like a grilled cheese sandwich) or french fries slathered with mayonnaise in a cup. I recommend the tomato soup to anyone -- it is not Campbell's, I promise.\nThere is an HIV life in Amsterdam, an active one, I think. We went to the HIV cafe at the gay community center (whose initials on the sign were COC -- and, yes, we pronounced it that way like the Beavis and Butthead we are) and found few people swirling around a pitch-in table loaded with what looked like varieties of potato salad and a crowded disco floor revved up next door. Why bother? We left.\nOur guest house was very small, and a breakfast was served everyday downstairs. There were a couple of Germans, another American couple and the rest were British tourists. The owner of the house was English and Dutch in origin, which seemed a ready-made reason for the boys from England to hop on over for a holiday.\nEach time we ran into British people at the breakfast table, they studiously ignored us -- too bent on loading caramel, chocolate and Marmite onto toast, croissants or anything that didn't move. I was grossed out and offended by their attitudes, which seemed among the three couples we encountered to be a point of national pride. Priggish and silly, with jam rings around their mouths, they only affirmed the genius of Dickens in describing their classless behavior. My travel tip? If you don't have to have breakfast with gay English tourists from places like the Midlands, don't seek the opportunity out.\nAll of my life, I've felt drawn to Amsterdam, wanted to see it, wished to just pull up and move there, and I didn't lose all of that feeling. I imagined myself arising at 10, having a koffie verkeerd (like cafe au lait) then venturing out to puff a fatty while surveying the surrounding world with an enhanced sense of humor. I thought of a life without plastic signs, vinyl siding, Kroger's and billboards, and the thought was good. On cable television in our room each night around 11 p.m., they carried "The Jerry Springer Show." The contrast was present, real and undoubtedly favorable to the Dutch.\nOne needs to see the world, to shut up, practice the culture of the locals, walk alongside them. To wonder at the differences, ask pertinent questions and listen to the answer. Smile, learn the currency and pay attention. If you can't do that, stay home -- you'll do the peoples of the world a favor by your absence.\nAs for me, I'm on a new search for a place to live -- Amsterdam full-time isn't for me. Rather than feeling disappointed about that, it was a relief. There are new horizons after all, and the world gets bigger in my eyes each day. It is a reckless planet, and I'm headlong after it.\nAnd for nine wonderful days I was not HIV Live, I was not Mr. AIDS. I was in the urban Eden, and I chose to bite the apple and leave.