Page 36 - the NOISE October 2012

Beloved reader, in Amsterdam my adventures took a turn for the risqué, if you have already heard of my ribald doings, and would like to know more, read on!
’m not going,” I told Catherine, the young woman who had “I been designated my roommate over the course of the next
few weeks as we traveled by bus through Europe (Best of pack- age!)
Our tour manager Gary had just informed us that we will be arriving in Amsterdam that evening and after our complimen- tary tour of the Red Light District, “There’s something we do thatwedon’tadvertiseinthebrochure,”hesayssmilingsneakily.
“Tonight,” he said in a thick, unidentifiable (to me) accent, “We are going to see the live sex show!”
“What?” I exclaimed, thinking I misunderstood. “You know, the sex!”
“Live?”
“Yes, yes, live. Real people.”
“Porn?”
“No. No. No. Not porn, real married couples having sex.” “On stage.”
“Yes.”
Amongst ourselves we discussed the vulgarity of it. By this time in the journey all the men were signed up and none of the women were signed up. By the time we reached the Nether- lands most of the women had changed their mind and added their name to the list.
Catherine and I were apparently the only two with any mor- als left.
When we reached the Lake Hotel just outside of Amsterdam and sat down to dinner, I found out that everyone had added their name to the list. Even my shy roommate had decided to go.
“I’m the only one not going?” I asked over buttered rolls and unlimited ice cream.
“Yep, so if you don’t go you’re going to be wandering around Amsterdam all alone at night,” said a handsome Australian named Anthony. “You’ll probably get lost.”
“Gary!” I called to our tour guide across the dining room, “Is it too late to go?”
He smiled and shook his head, “I knew you would change your mind. I added you this afternoon.”
I tried to justify my decision to my conscience. I’m a writer. I might learn something.
There go whatever morals I have left.
I fell in love with Amsterdam, it sparkled and the beautiful, old buildings leaned over me while the smell, some aromatic mix- ture of marijuana and waffles, hung in the air.
The Red Light District at night feels as staged as a gaudy Dis- neyland ride. I felt like I was in a cart being pulled down a little track as I wandered among a steady stream of people — most of them not at all interested in renting one of these attractions, but simply to see that they do exist.
I didn’t believe it. I still didn’t believe it as I shouldered through the entrance to what they call skinny alley; window af- ter window of skinny, scantily clad prostitutes under red lights.
At first I felt I was invading their privacy but soon I realized they were everybody’s. They were there for me to stare at in
wonder, disbelief and repulsion. I found myself grinning broad- ly because it all seemed so absurd. They smiled back. They think it’s funny too, I thought. I soon realized they misinterpreted my smile when one opened her door and leaned towards me. I took several steps back.
“Come back when you change your mind,” she said.
Holy moly.
All these women. All for sale. Big, fleshy ones rubbing lotion into their thighs as they perch on chairs; some talking on their cell phones, many leaning against their window sills as they smile and sway.
I felt like they were sharks in tanks watching the fish swim by.
It didn’t become real until I saw one reach out her door, grab a man by his shirt collar and pull him into her room, snapping the curtain shut.
We wove up and down the cobbled streets. I was led into a theatre with velvet ropes at the entrance held up by golden penises. The curtains opened on a couple already into “it.”
At first I averted my eyes, still in disbelief that I was in a live sex theatre seated so close to the stage I worried I had arrived in the splash zone.
Anthony sat beside me. His eyes were riveted.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I haven’t learned anything yet,” I said blandly and took a sip
of my drink.
When they were finished with their set, the couple sprang
apart and flung their arms up into the air, bowing and curtsying like Olympic athletes before gracefully exiting the stage.
The curtain opened next on the most graceless dancer I had ever seen. She was wearing a red vinyl trench coat with match- ing thigh high boots.
“Please God, don’t let her take off that coat,” Anthony said as the dancer swayed her hips and lifted her arms into the air and tromped about the stage.
She wasn’t much to look at. This became more apparent when the coat came off. Her boob job was certainly past the due date for replenishing.
You should have seen her smile though. She looked so happy that the feeling of pure joy was contagious. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I felt the need to smile back at her when our eyes met.
The next couple to take the stage was very vigorous. They had some good moves. But I was relieved when it was over and the dancer came back to the stage, this time dressed in an outfit from a conga line. She shimmied and did the grapevine across the floor.
When her eyes met mine and she came up to me and extend- ed a hand, of course I went with her.
How could I not?
Together we danced on the stage — no, I did not strip tease. I felt in that moment in time, I was born to dance on the stage.
Exhilarated, I returned to my seat beside Anthony. I’m sure by now he was wondering what kind of part-time sidekick he had acquired on this tour.
| Clair Anna Rose may now another debaucherous chapter to her life’s experience. clairannarose@gmail.com
We’re moving into the cold season soon, but right now there is so much to celebrate: it’s OAKTOBERFEST! Acorn time. Acorns have a beret-like hat on one end, a nipple tip on the other, a semi-tough shell, and a big fat seed rich in pro- teins, oils, starches, and tannins. It’s just what the wildlife needs to give them that extra push to make it through the win- ter. Bears, squirrels, Jaybirds, and rodents galore adore these gifts from the oak trees.
The tannic acid in the nuts requires a water-leaching pro- cess make them safe for human consumption; otherwise, they could cause tannic acid poisoning – a severe purging effect and intestinal distress.
Oak Creek Canyon and the surrounding Red Rock country are home to over a dozen distinct varieties of oak, and some unique hybrids caused by cross-pollination. Some oaks are shrubby, while others are true trees, and come in evergreen and deciduous varieties. Oak wood makes a superior firewood and will produce a clean-burning, high temperature flame. Now is the time to finish securing your clutch of firewood, while condi- tions are dry.
Piñon pine nuts are ripe and ready to harvest. It takes close to two years for the cones to mature enough to open up and present viable seeds. Piñon is an easily digested nut of incred- ible value. Pine nuts are best produced at 5,000 feet elevation. The way to harvest them is to lay tarps down below each tree and then shake the tree or whack the branches using sturdy poles (like saguaro ribs).
The good seeds will be heavy, so fill a bucket with water and nuts and float off the empty nuts. Dry the good ones, which will have sunk to the bottom, in the sunshine. It’s a messy job and hard work, and expect to get sap all over your clothes, skin, and hair! Fortunately, you can use Vaseline or vegetable oil as a solvent to remove the pine sap, also known as pitch. Pine pitch has antiseptic qualities, and is used in ointments and salves. It oozes from tree wounds to seal over and heal the cuts, and it works great on people too!
Most roadside pine nut vendors are honest and hardwork- ing people, and deserve $20/lb for all the hard work they put into the harvest. Beware many commercially sold pine nuts be- cause they are often years old and rancid, and pine nuts stored in chemically treated burlap sacks can be considered contami- nated.
As the cold creeps in, the leaves begin turning colors, or rath- er losing their deep green chlorophyll cloaks to reveal the other more cold-tolerant pigments in deciduous leaves. First the sumac and poison oak turn gold, then red. Aspen, box elders, mulberries, cottonwoods, and willows glow golden, then shed their leaves. And tucked away in the canyons, the big tooth maples finally burst aflame with passionate color!
Farmers need to scramble to protect crops and harvest anything that will be decimated by the inevitable killing freeze. Green tomatoes should be left in the cluster with the stem attached and cut from the vine; they will ripen eventually indoors. Winter keeper melons and winter squash should be harvested after the plant dies, usually from powdery mildew or frost damage, but before the freeze hits so hard that the rind is damaged. After a freeze, tomato vines and basil turn black within hours and droop like rags. Be smart enough to harvest them before the frost hits them hard. A salvage harvest should be done immediately after the freeze, otherwise you might lose the majority of the fruits of your labors. Often, the clear, cold nights are followed by blazing sun that doubly kills everything.
Come Halloween, it’s time to bust it loose a little, or a lot! Our modern, contorted holidays barely resemble their original in- tentions. All Hallow’s Eve is about the cold creeping in and taking over, and the harvesting of souls (death!) that comes with Jack Frost and the big die-off. The now naked trees have gone to the underworld to reside, putting all their energy into growing roots. It’s a grim reminder that there is a time for every season, but not one to take too heavily either: spring will come again.
Killing freeze predictions for Sedona, Prescott, Cornville, Jerome, Clarkdale, Cottonwood, and Camp Verde areas:
New Moon: October 13-16 – A low to the ground coating of frost, mostly in low pockets.
Full Moon: October 27-31 – A hard killing freeze reaching to the treetops, and the final harvest for most crops.
| ThunderfooT is a nature lover and earth wisdom keeper in Northern Arizona.
36 • OCTOBER 2012 • the NOISE arts & news magazine • thenoise.us