Page 34 - the NOISE December 2012

fter a whimsical morning of bicycling along the canals Aof a small town on the outskirts of Amsterdam, I said adios to my tour-mates for the day after the bus drops us off
in the center of the City.
I set off in the direction of the Van Gogh museum with my
pockets stuffed full of rolls, waffles and other miscellaneous goods I’d hoarded from the breakfast table at the hotel.
Knowing my natural born instinct for getting lost, I had a fool-proof plan for finding my way among the canals and streets. Every turn I made I would write down on the back of my hand. This way I could wander about as aimlessly as I pleased without fear of never finding my way back to the bus.
I studied the map and routed out a path to the museum, but, as it turned out, the city map I had didn’t have ALL the streets on it. Within ten minutes of my journey I had no idea where I was, how far I had gone or where the museum was. The notes on my hands made no sense, and all the street names looked familiar.
Everything smells so good. What’s that sound? I wondered and began to follow the dulcet notes that floated on the air towards me. I followed the sound through alleys and over bridges. The music growing steadily louder, the tune, though unnamed in my memory, was familiar.
Dodging a scooter careening down the sidewalk I spot- ted the makers of merry: three weathered old men sitting in chairs on a bridge; one playing accordion, one on clarinet and the last on saxophone. I stood dreamy-eyed and listened. This was bliss. Standing on a bridge overlooking the cobble- stone streets and historic buildings of Amsterdam, boats floating through the canals and the knowing that there is no- where to be and nothing to do, but listen to music and be still. It certainly made the last few weeks seem worthwhile.
After a few songs, letting the warm sunshine settle into my skin I tossed a few Euros in the hat placed out for tips and wandered on.
My eyes were caught by a colorful array of tents and I threaded myself between a long, seemingly endless row of booths filled to the gills with all sorts of goods. I found needle and thread to sew my beloved and treasured camera bag that was beginning to come undone. A man sold me a wedge of the best cheese I’ve ever tasted. I found little trinkets for my shadow boxes, a warm coat to brave the forecasted snow I would face in Austria and Switzerland.
It was like one of those dreams I had where I was shopping and the shopping was really good, except it was really hap- pening... only I was on the 10 euro-a-day plan thanks to my optimistic planning.
It was a fairytale day, sans romance. I passed windows filled with exquisite-looking waffle creations with whipped cream and fruit. I found three handsome Germans to smoke the rest of my weed for me. I indulged with them for a few minutes, relaying my mis-adventures thus far before setting off for a second round of wandering.
I was heading in the absolutely wrong direction when I ran into Anthony, who towed my slightly inebriated self in the di- rection of the bus.
That night, dressed in too-high heels and a black dress, I
found myself in the Floating Sea Palace downing a plate of vegetables and noodles, which couldn’t have tasted better since the munchies had kicked in.
“Hannah,” Georgia said. “Hannah!”
“Her name is Clair, Georgia,” Christopher said laughing.
Georgia and Christopher were quite a pair. Two Australians who were fabulous; each day they dressed as if they were movie stars, partied like rock stars, swooned over handsome men and had at least three different outfits planned for each day. Their hotel room looked as if a truck full of clothes had exploded. Not a surface was spared.
I liked them immediately.
“Oh! Clair! You remind me so much of Hannah!”
“She is Hannah!” Christopher exclaimed. “You look just like
Hannah. You’re even funny like her.”
“Hannah, we’ve snuck in our own bottle of Champagne!
Help us drink it, won’t you?” Georgia whispered. “Can’t say no to that,” I said taking a glass.
Decidedly tipsy we were ferried onto a boat for a nighttime cruise along the canals.
“Unlimited free drinks for the duration of the cruise!” The boat captain called out.
“Oh god,” I said. “I’ve already had too much Champagne.”
“Oh Hannah, you’re so funny!” Christopher said pushing my shoulder and handing me a drink.
The temptation with unlimited free drinks is to drink as much as you possibly can. But then the voice of reason kicks in and says, But Clair, tomorrow you’ll be on a bus to Germany. It will suck big time if you’re hung over.
Damn you voice of reason! I’ll have one glass of free wine.
Boats are fun, plain and simple; throw in fast speeds through a sparkling city like Amsterdam after a significant amount of champagne and they become the best thing ever.
We sped past the home of the oldest prostitute in Amster- dam, aged 92. We danced as music exploded out of the boat’s speakers. It was just beginning to get cold when the boat came to a halt. The bus ride back is a faded memory of sleepi- ness.
A scratching at my hotel door at 2 AM came with call of, “Hannah! Hannah! Come get high with us,” woke me from my
slumber.
“What? No. Guys, I’m sleeping.” “But Hannah! You promised.”
“I did not, go away,” I grumbled.
Christopher and Georgia looked a little worse for the wear as they crawled onto the bus that morning. I on the other hand felt well-rested.
“Hannah, we decided you’re even more fun that the other Hannah,” Christopher told me.
“Thanks. But are you going to call me Hannah for the next two weeks?” I asked.
“Oh, there’s Hannah!” said the tour guide when he saw me.
“Oh! Hannah!” Christopher and Georgia said together. “You’re so... Hannah.”
| Clair anna rose is highly twinkle-toed, thank you very much. clairannarose@gmail.com
It’s December already? And we’re wrapping things up: last page on the calendar, and soon we complete one more lap around the sun, which occurs at the moment of the Winter Sol- stice: December 21 at 6:12AM. Winter Solstice happens when the Earth is at the farthest point spatially from the Sun. Accord- ing to the Gregorian calendar, this was a leap year, with an extra 366th day. It’s because the elliptical orbit of the Earth around the Sun takes 365.24, 24-hour hour periods that we call days. How we measure time is the measurement of the Earth’s orbit and ro- tation. It is cyclical and very precise, exact and predicable.
There is talk about the Mayan Calendar marking an ending. With cycles, that usually means that an ending is also a new be- ginning. Some people think that we may be on the threshold of an unpredictable solar event that would affect our planet’s orbit: something you might call the “Big Calamity.” There have been similar predictions before, but for as long as humans have ever known, the Earth has turned on its axis toward the Sun each morning and spun around (at 1000 mph) into its own shadow at each sundown and throughout the night. There have been pre- dictable and constant days and nights, moon cycles, and ocean tides with the Procession of Equinoxes. Astronomers and math- ematicians had it all figured out long ago.
When it comes, Winter Solstice is the longest night of each year, the “Dark Night of the Soul.” It is a time to look within at personal issues and shadows in order to make some changes for inner growth. A simple ceremony can be performed by lighting a candle or fire to burn throughout the night, holding light in the darkness until it returns as sunrise the next morning. This is the true new year’s day, not January 1st!
End of the year gifting, giveaway, or Jubilee, which is a forgiv- ing of all debts, is often observed by people of multiple faiths before or on the eve preceding the Solstice. One should not feel obligated to give, however, but want to share with others the abundance in their lives. Large giveaways, like a potlatch, as- sures that there will be abundance by creating a new void to be filled. Whatever your faith, now is the time to count your bless- ings, and to make them that much better by sharing. Perhaps we can make that more of a daily practice instead of waiting for special occasions and Holy Days.
Not much is happening in the garden right now, except for the cycles of frost and thawing. The daytime high temperatures can fluctuate anywhere from 30 to 50 degrees above the nighttime lows. Wind chill is also a big factor, and exposure to the elements and nighttime freezes can be a killer for those who are caught outdoors injured or unprepared, as can dehydration, because may water sources are frozen solid for much of the day and all night long. Snow may be accumulating faster than it can melt in the high country, resulting in some snowpack and moisture reserves. This is now winter, so cold in varying degrees is what’s on the menu.
One of the most inviting places to visit when it is cold is a natu- ral hot spring to soak into and warm your bones. At home, a hot tub, bathtub, or shower with hot water is much appreciated. Es- sential oils or salts like Epsom or Dead Sea salts can be added to the tub for relief of achy muscles. Breathing in the warm fragrant vapors can take you to another level (of consciousness!) and re- lieve stuffiness and congestion.
Contrary to popular belief, a cup of Brandy will not warm you up. Imbibing liquor will actually make you lose several degrees of body heat, but numbs you enough so that is doesn’t register, or you just don’t care. Keeping dry is the most crucial thing to do when freezing temperatures dominate, next to staying warm enough.
ThunderfooT believes in simplicity and consid- ers it a weakness to rely too much on technol- ogy that is beyond our personal understand-
ing. He chooses instead to invest himself in ancient Earthwisdoms & crafting skills.
34 • DECEMBER 2012 • the NOISE arts & news • thenoise.us