Page 30 - the NOISE November 2012

saw a lot of things I’ve never seen before in Amsterdam; I prostitutes in brightly lit red windows, a woman smoking a cigar where a cigar never should go, and a giant man in a Gorilla costume with a strap on who carried me kicking and screaming across the stage, just to name a few.
After the Casa Rosa, I thought I would call it a night, until I was invited along to one of Amsterdam’s special cafés, one of those places where you could walk up to the counter and order up a big, fat joint as if you were ordering a beer.
I went with a group of my Australian travel companions to the Grasshopper, a tall building illuminated with green light. We were directed down to the basement of the build- ing where a menu in the wall lit up with the press of a button. Much to my surprise I found myself to be the most knowl- edgeable of the group when it came to “marijuana.” It was only a matter of seconds before my comrades, already a bit inebriated and growing loud, were making such a stir about not knowing what to get that they were asked to leave.
I found myself not only buying it, but after further assess- ment, realized none of my traveling companions had ever smoked before, and ended up inattentively rolling a joint for the first time. It was rather floppy and loosely rolled, but my fellow travelers had nothing to complain about, since none of them were willing to try to do it themselves. They all wanted to get high and were so excited. It was sweet, really, and in- nocent, if they weren’t all in their mid- to late-20s.
I caught myself wondering if they led a very straight and narrow life back home and if I was leading them down the path to corruption. I felt like such a bad girl. And I liked it.
I tried to warn them what it might be like. I had, for my own sake, ordered the weakest of the weak grade, knowing it would be stronger than anything I had ever had before. I wanted to experience smoking in public in a place where it was socially accepted, but not get so stoned that I had no rec- ollection of my vacation.
We passed it around and I watched their faces, trying to read what they were experiencing, probably with the same curiosity James must have followed me with as I sat at his kitchen table with the home made honey bear bong.
Around and around it went. I was smiling because even though I had been moderate, it was stronger than anything I had before and I was feeling magical. It took me a while to come to the conclusion that no one else shared the senti- ment.
As I began to roll another, “No, that’s okay,” said the school- teacher from Sydney.
“Yeah, that’s enough for me.” “Yeah, you can keep the rest.”
My travel companions were beginning to prove to be a dis- appointment. I sat in the Grasshopper with a bunch of pot I could never fathomably smoke in one day, even if I wanted to be knocked-out stoned. The murals on the walls of space insects fornicating with big-breasted earthlings were begin- ning to weird me out. I had enough for one night.
We left for a cab back to the hotel, and by now it was obvi- ous the pot was kicking in for some of them. When we got to the taxi, one of the guys began to argue over the price of the cab, in English. The cab drivers were polite, but growing increasingly irritated.
“You guys, guys! Just get in the cab!” I said, then to the driv- er, “Sorry, they’re high.”
We piled into two cabs and they pulled away from the curb at breakneck speeds.
The cabs drew even with each other at the red light.
“Race! Race!” one of the Australians yelled from the back of
the cab.
The drivers exchanged a glance, revved their engines and
when the light turned green, floored it.
I had mistakenly chosen to sit in the front seat. My stom-
ach was riding in my throat as the cab tore down the road, the lights of the city whirring by, the Australians howling with pure rapture in the backseat.
We were approaching a tunnel, my heart hammering in my chest. Since arriving in London I had been feeling a since of impending doom. First the detainment, the uncomfortable vibe of the farm, the dead man on the street of Dublin and now before me gaped a dark, narrow passage illuminated with glowing orange lights. Tunnels, like escalators, caves and high-up places are just another inexplicable fear. Enter- ing it at blur just added to the knot forming in my gut.
As a child I learned that before entering a tunnel you should make a wish and hold your breath, but somehow this had translated for me into, If I can’t hold my breath for the dura- tion of the tunnel something really bad is going to happen. Tun- nels with windows are exempt from this rule.
As we drew closer I took a deep breath, and tried to expel it from my lungs completely, waiting until the very last sec- ond to breath in the gulp of air that was supposed to last me through the end. The orange glow of the mouth of the tunnel was approaching. I sucked as much air into my lungs as they would hold and clapped my mouth shut. The lights of the tunnel blurred by as we sped through. I wanted to close my eyes, but kept them fixed straight ahead, afraid that if I closed them something bad will happen!
With every bend in the road I was sure the end must be near, my lungs were beginning to protest, but the sickly glow of lights stretched on.
| Clair Anna Rose has long since changed her wild ways and can now be found crocheting most evenings. clairannarose@gmail.com
It’s November, and we go deeper into the heart of Fall; and Fall means falling needles and leaves, blowing leaves, piles of leaves, leaf-carpeted grounds and country roads, and bar- ren trees. Get the rake and make leaf piles where they can decay naturally and feed earthworms. Putting the leaves into bags and shipping them off to landfills is an outrageous waste! Leaves are a valuable resource and soil builder. Some leaves, however, like pecan and black walnut, are toxic to earthworms and contain growth inhibitors that are great for weed control.
As leaves and pine needles blanket the ground, they pro- tect shallow tree roots not only from the cold, but also from the desiccation that occurs from intense sunlight and dry winds. If you don’t have a use for them, then leave them alone; that’s why they’re called “leaves!”
If you haven’t planted your garlic by now, this could be your last chance. Dormant or sprouting cloves are planted in the ground to grow through Winter and Spring, and each in turn will become an entire bulb, ready to harvest by next June. Choose the largest and best quality cloves for planting and plant each clove 2 to 6 inches deep, with the pointed tip upward and flatter root end down. They can be planted as close as 4 inches apart to maximize use of the growing area. It is very easy to grow a year’s supply of your own garlic in just a couple of garden beds or furrows.
Garlic is a food, spice, and valuable medicine, and it has a higher per-pound price than most other produce, making it a valuable cash crop. Few pests bother garlic and it is cold hardy, so it can be grown in what is usually the off-season. It can tolerate low-fertility soils and any amount of water given to it, but fertile soil with good drainage and regular watering will result in a superior quality product.
Longer nights and colder temperatures mean that people seek shelter or stay indoors for longer periods of time. Many days will begin with chilly mornings, warming up in the early afternoon hours, only to have temperatures plummet by sun- down. One should take to wearing clothes in layers and keep extra gloves, hats, and clothing ready at hand.
Adding extra bedding and quilts will insulate against the cold and you’ll likely use your fireplace every night. It takes more metabolism to keep a body warm now, so consume more calories and eat heartily. Drink warm fluids such as broths and teas (or hot spiced apple cider!)
Animals have grown thicker coats to protect them from the cold, and most birds (except the very hardiest) are on the way south as they migrate to warmer climes. Bears and skunks find or dig a burrow or cavern to hibernate.
The feast of Thanksgiving is a slightly delayed Harvest festi- val meant to celebrate all good things foodwise, and to gain a few pounds from. Overindulgence is the rule these days, so just for the day, go ahead and enjoy everything!
Turkey is the main course, with pumpkin pie to finish it off. Both the turkey and the pumpkin are of Native American ori- gin. The wild turkey is one of nature’s most stealthy and intelligent creatures, whereas the large-breasted, white- feathered domestic turkey is so clumsy and dumb, it is said to drown in the rain. Pumpkins are good food, useful for soups, stews, bakes, and breads. Pumpkin seeds are also an excel- lent food especially rich in zinc. Pumpkins store for a long time and look really cool too!
| ThunderfooT is a pumpkin-eater who loves farming, wild animals, cookies, and tea.
30 • NOVEMBER 2012 • the NOISE arts & news • thenoise.us