Dispatch Number Four

Mysterious,
Magnificent
Amsterdam.

DATELINE:
Wednesday, October 25, 2000, at 1200 hours CDT.
On the Road Again.

By Mickey Miles
SPECIAL to CornDancer.com

EDITOR'S NOTE: Mr. Miles is a professional journalist and political operative who moved to London in summer, 2000, to explore a new line of endeavour.

Amsterdam, the Netherlands -- October the Thirteenth finds our boy smack in the middle of Amsterdam. I spent two days in this magnificent and mysterious city and although, like most business travellers, I was confined mostly to my hotel room and the convention center, nonetheless I still got a pretty good view of the city.

One of the things I always do before I go to a new place is read a book, usually a guidebook. Amsterdam was a fun read. This ancient Dutch fishing village was at one time one of the most powerful cities in the world. Who has not heard of the Dutch East Company and its far-flung empire? After all, it was the Dutch who bought Manhattan from the Indians in 1626.

A casual reading of Amsterdam history reveals centuries of religious strife, great wealth, fires, wars, and famines. To read the history of Amsterdam is to read the history of the entire world.

The game plan was to spend two days working and two days exploring, seeing museums, visiting the home of Anne Frank, and just seeing the sites. However that was not to be as the partner became ill and was unable to make the trip.

One of the interesting perspectives I gained by reading about the history of Amsterdam is that the Dutch people are a tolerant lot. They are content to go their way and let you go yours.

A District Where Just About Anything Goes.

What does this mean in Amsterdam? Well it means that marijuana is smoked openly in coffee shops and bars in the city. It means that there is a red light district in the city where just about anything goes. It means that if you want to eat hash cakes, get stoned to the gills, and get spanked by some high-heeled bitch wearing a black corset and wielding a black whip, you can do so.

I don't know what all goes on in the red light district and, like the Dutch, I don't care. That is somebody else's business. Naturally I am curious. I would like to see what goes on behind that green door and maybe I will some day, but not this time.

So what does one do in a short time to learn a bit about the city? You ask cabbies. Someone could argue, "Well, what do they know?" Actually, cabbies are closer to the street than just about anyone. Given the cross section of people they come into contact with, they usually can give you a lot of insight.

Smoke Dope, Eat Hash, Steal Bicycles.

Condensed observations from conversations with five cab drivers: Amsterdam is experiencing white flight. White people are moving to the smaller towns just outside of the 800,000-population city because of what they perceive as the "dumming down" (one used that exact description) of the school system. Another says the percentage of non-Dutch students enrolled in the city's public school system is over 50%. And the new immigrants don't speak the language, don't respect the culture, and have no ambition. "They (whoever "they" is) quit school at 15 or 16 and just smoke dope and eat hash and steal bicycles. And it's affecting our kids."

Ahhhh! So now I am seeing that maybe the Dutch aren't such a tolerant people after all. Maybe they are content to be tolerant until they marry and have children and those children grow up and start going to school. Maybe they get, well, more conservative.

But our collective cab driver does have a point about bicycles. Amsterdam is a city of bicycles. Everyone here rides a bicycle and they are all the same color, black. There are bicycle paths on both sides of the streets and in the morning hours, driving cross town, you see hundreds of dark-clothed figures zooming silently in all directions.

A City of One Million Bicycles.

They say there are one million bicycles in Amsterdam and that one thousand bicycles are stolen a day! Apparently if someone steals your bicycle, you go steal someone else's. Even though all the bicycles are heavily chained and locked down, the thefts continue. Nonetheless, the best way to see the city is by bicycle. I just wouldn't recommend stealing one.

The cab drivers also complain about taxes. Their country is socialist; they pay 50% of their income to the government, which has all kinds of social programs. Like I said, the Dutch are tolerant and eager to help those in need. NOT.

One might get the idea that these cab drivers were bitter, unshaven men. Not so. To a man they are clean, young, well dressed, and well mannered. They all spoke eloquent English.

Canals, Bridges, Cobblestone Streets.

Amsterdam is also a great city for walks, even though I didn't walk as much as I wanted. Because it is below sea level, there are numerous canals and neat little bridges and cobblestone streets. I really think I could like Amsterdam.

The only night I walked around, I passed a café and could smell marijuana. The bartender in the hotel in which I am staying says that sometimes guests try to light up in the hotel -- and that is a no no.

"Where does the pot come from?" I ask.

"It is grown here, in this country, by licensed growers who are regulated by the state."

Too soon I have to return to London, but my curiosity about Amsterdam has been stoked. I shall return.

Mr. Clinton Washes Away Arkansas' Sins.

Editorial comment: When people ask me where I am from, I say Arkansas. They quickly reply, "Little Rock, Clinton." This has happened time after time and not just in Amsterdam, or London where I live. It happened in Scotland and in New York. The thought occurs to me that Bill Clinton has washed Arkansas' sins away. The collective wisdom about Arkansas when the subject came up, pre-President Clinton, was Arkansas, Little Rock, Central High, Integration Crisis.

Now it's Arkansas, Little Rock, President Clinton, Monica Lewinsky. Arkansas has traded up. We have gone from being a little known backwater hillbilly nothing, to being a hotbed of racial violence on which the entire nation could expend its collective guilt, to now being the breeding ground of the President of the United States.

Oh well, we tried. Frankly I want to go back to being a hillbilly once again.

EDITOR'S NOTE:

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Hash Cakes, Red Light DreamsA Few Meters Below Sea Level.