Adventures. Ideas. Inspirations. People. Life

The Bikes

2008-03-22T20:38:00.000-07:00

One look at a typical “Amsterdammer” on her bike, and you know deep down inside that that’s the way to go. Its efficient for such a small city, you can practically go anywhere. It’s very refreshing as the wind blows in your hair or gently glides you along as you pedal away taking in the sights and sounds of this quaint little city. It’s social – as you bike around with a bunch of friends, or romantic, as you hold the hands of your fair lady in the middle of the night while biking through the nearly empty streets. It’s exciting, as you try to maneuver your way around tricky little streets, trying to avoid being hit, or fun, when you bike around Dam Square looking to hunt some tourists. Everyone rides a bike – 3 year olds without training wheels, 80 year olds who look like they bike better than they walk. Professors and bums, the police and the junkies...there is no replacing the bike. And why not? It’s healthy. I've never seen a 70 year old man bike before, let alone overtake me. It obviously keeps him in shape – and that’s never a bad thing. More importantly - the Dutch women are incredibly beautiful...thank God for those bikes. I shudder to imagine my sorrow if all the women were cooped up in their little cars – what would I have done? Go around staring through windows? No! At least this way I get to see the sights as I bike around.

One of my favorite past-times back when the weather was beautiful was to ride down as far as I could go and see what’s going on. The Amstel canal is beautiful on Sunday afternoons. People lounging around in the wake of the afternoon sun, reading, jogging, resting, cuddling, and chilling around with some drinks. A perfect way to spend a Sunday. It just feels right. It feels gezellig.

If someone asks me what’s the most important thing I learned in Amsterdam, or what I brought back with me– I could go on and on. But the most important thing to me was a simple word, a notion, an idea, a feeling. We all know that feeling – it’s a mixture of warmth, of comfort and happiness. A very full and overpowering feeling of content. It may be luxurious, or may be sparse, but somehow touches your heart in a very intensely emotional way. If I were to describe it, I would say its the epitome of the human condition, a feeling that you could perhaps describe as sitting in a cozy little log cabin in the middle of the woods in a snowy winter, the fireplace blazing and crackling as you sip hot chocolate and cuddle with something warm, soft and furry (and preferably not alive) while you enjoy the company of a someone very close to you. That’s a lot of words to describe that feeling. The Dutch do it much better...they call it gezellig. It’s supposedly a word that has no literal translation in any other language. My Dutch professor said...”its something nice”. What an understatement. I don't need a translation. I come from halfway around the world, I'm not even Dutch. But I know the feeling. Its one of the purest human emotions you can experience. It’s what we crave for; it's what we live for. It makes our lives special. So yes, what was that I learned in Amsterdam? Nothing...just a word. Which means everything.

The Feminine Society

2008-03-20T18:33:00.000-07:00

I've known Freek Bakker, my Dutch instructor for about two months, and I've never seen him as confused as he was when Kristin and I turned up for the Dutch final resit. We had both passed, but somehow we ended up sitting for that resit. I know I was a little concerned – I had just found out that my grades were going to get transferred back to my home school, which is, to say the least, an irritating prospect. I didn't do too bad on the final, but, all my life, I've been taught to make use of the opportunities around me, so when the resit was offered...I said why not? I had a B, but I could possibly make it into an A- or even an A. Plus I slept through my Social Trends class that morning, for the second time in two weeks, and I was feeling guilty. So I went. And there he was...so confused. “But normally, Dutch students, once they pass, will never sit for another test. I don't think they are allowed,” he said. Hmm. That’s interesting. Back then, I didn't know what to make of it. Now, armed with the knowledge gleaned from my Field Experience seminar I can explain the situation - it’s a difference arising out of the masculinity versus femininity of the society.

It is actually pretty simple. I come from a masculine society. So, I believe bigger is better. Better is not enough, you've got to be the best. To be the best, you have to rise to the top. To rise to the top, you must climb a mountain. And you cannot give up. Everyone expects you to climb that mountain. You'll feel better once you've done it. People will know you. That’s how you reach the ultimate goal of happiness and success.

Contrast that to my perception of the Dutch society. Bigger is not necessarily better, good things come in small packages too. Why bother going to the top? Do you not like where you are? What is this need to be the best? How do you even define best? You can go to the top of the mountain if you want, carrying all that hiking gear up that long arduous road, but you know what, I like my little hill. It’s not so difficult to climb, its not as cold, I get to have more fun climbing up and coming down, and I get to meet other happy people who live on this hill and in many other hills around me and below me. It’s not bad, I'm happy. What else do you need?

Fairy tales and fables all speak of great heroes who go and slay dragons, defeat evil wizards to rescue the princess and marry her and live happily ever after. We all grew up with those stories and still love them. But in my mind, one thing seems certain – there is no such “princess”. Happiness is completely arbitrary, and very individualistic. You cannot always follow a set formula to get what you want, because we are all too unique to achieve the same state of well being. All fingers are not equal. What we really need is a way to reconcile ourselves with our dreams and desires, and find that cushy spot where we are happy. That’s how life gets its meaning. That’s how I live my life, by striving to give meaning to every single thing I do. And every time I look back, I am filled with a sense of pride knowing that my life is made up of bits and pieces of meaningful treasured memories.

My only gripe with life...I still don't know where I need to go. I came to Amsterdam to find that part of my essential self which keeps eluding me. I've seen it several times, I felt its presence and its influence, but it keeps slipping away. I guess it’s not a bad thing. I think the search for the sunrise which is supposed to bring light and bath my world with energy will have its merits. If I knew where to go and what to do, then life would lose all meaning. Instead, I will continue to sail my boat in the ocean of life, hoping that one day I will find the treasure that we all seek. Happiness.

“Regulated Tolerance”

2008-02-29T18:13:00.000-08:00

Living in a city opens up a whole new world of possibilities and experiences. It also changes the way that the brain associates meanings to words. For instance, nowadays, every time I hear the word “coffeeshop”, I immediately think of a small, dark and cozy little shop selling . While Starbucks has a delicious, lip-smacking menu and big shiny stores, the coffeeshops in Amsterdam ooze with charm and ambience – and the lingering smell of pot.

I had heard of these coffeeshops and of Amsterdam’s notorious reputation for tolerating the sale and consumption of certain “soft” drugs. I knew about it, but I couldn’t picture it. Most people I know get their pot in narrow dirty alleyways from shady street dealers. No quality control, no guarantees and of course, you’d be lucky if they didn’t mix your herbs with some real dried grass (or so I heard, in Dhaka. The dudes at college are usually more reliable). Here in Amsterdam – they grow the finest pot in the world, and they let you smell it and touch it before they sell it. They even give you a receipt sometimes. Just in case - the cheap bastard may want to itemize marijuana consumption on his expense account during a business trip. Who knows? Maybe the boss will approve.

I was curious about the customers. Not the usual crowd of map-toting tourists, but the “regulars”. Will they be complete stoners decked in red, green and yellow, like proper Rastafarians? Or will they all be a bunch of hippies? Maybe there would be a casual businessman, dressed sharply in a polished suit sitting around, hitting a bong to calm his nerves after a busy day at the office. If I lived in Amsterdam, maybe I could be that guy. Investment banker during the day. A chilled out laid back coffeeshop visitor at night. A secret alter ego and a perfect life. Except I'd forget shit all the time.

I discovered that there is no certain “type” of customer at coffeeshops – I saw people from all walks of life. It is difficult to imagine that what goes on inside a coffeeshop is considered illegal in most parts of the world - the atmosphere is relaxed and friendly, the proprietors are helpful and cheerful, and the customers are all in a “chilled” mood enjoying conversations, a good laugh or the company of good friends with a smoke. It’s quite the lifestyle – there’s simply no hint of all the negative connotations – the illegality or the unhealthy aspects that one normally associates with marijuana consumption.

As much as the tourists enjoy the free reign on marijuana and soft drugs, the other big money-maker in Amsterdam is the notorious “Wallen”; the Red Light District and the infamous “window” girls. Two long narrow streets divided by a canal, lined with windows where scantily clad women display their bodies for sale. If Las Vegas is the city of sin, then Amsterdam is surely the heart of the devil. The RLD is an erotic paradise - sex shows, porno theatres, peep shows and topless bars, all bathed in the glow of red neon lights which besides adding an attractive glow to the women’s semi-naked bodies add a touch of ambience and sets the mood for some "fun". The streets are usually busy with tourists, often high or drunk, who spend hours gawking at the beautiful voluptuous bodies, perhaps trying to decide if they should risk cheating on their wives. In my free time, I turn up at the RLD to gawk at the gawking tourists. People watching is my favorite hobby, and doing so in the Wallen is guaranteed entertainment – whether to see the women insulting the men and throwing them out, or the various groups of young men clustered around laughing and pointing at their ridiculous friend who just walked up to a window.

I grew up in a conservative society, yet I was strangely unperturbed by the sights and sounds of the Wallen. Prostitution was the oldest profession in the world, and here at last I see a city which does not live in denial – it openly allows the activity to take place, right under the noses of the authorities. Was it simply the notion of liberty of the Nederlanders which allows for this? How is it possible that selling drugs and sex on the streets is allowed by any state in today’s world?

I came to learn about the unique law in the Netherlands - the policy of “regulated tolerance”. This is a strategy that works because of certain inherent characteristics of the Dutch society, and a policy that is rather difficult, more likely impossible, to recreate in other societies. Regulated tolerance calls for putting up with certain activities which are outlawed in most other countries in the world. Prostitution or the sales of drugs are fine examples. This Dutch policy is a manifestation of a number of very valid arguments. As far as prostitution is concerned, the Dutch recognize that big cities need a certain number of “working” women, especially a busy, commercial city such as Amsterdam. Instead of trying to implement a blanket ban on such activities, the city has found a pragmatic solution – situating sex workers in a certain part of town and allowing them to conduct their business in a regulated environment guaranteeing their own safety as well as their clients’. Thus, the social problems associated with street prostitution have been resolved, along with the problems of “pimping” or exploitation of women. Such a policy benefits all the parties involved – the sex workers have a free reign to conduct their business in a safe manner without being exploited or harassed, the clients enjoy their company with a certain assurance of safety from sexually transmitted diseases (due to regular mandatory health screenings of the prostitutes), and the city enjoys income taxes – a classical win-all situation. A similar policy is adopted towards drugs – the customers know what products they are getting; they avoid potential dangers which are associated with hazardous substances mixed with drugs; the sellers earn money and the city wins big with the taxes and the control over the distribution and consumption of drugs.

Is “regulated tolerance” a quirky feature of Dutch pragmatism? Or is it really the libertarian solution that’s light years ahead of its time? My opinion – it works. Everybody wins. And yes, it is a feature of pragmatism. It showcases a unique aspect of Dutch directness – instead of arguing over issues of immorality and illegality, the state is direct in admitting that there is no avoiding prostitution or consumption of drugs such as marijuana in a large city. This is a basic assumption of human nature. To look after the welfare of its citizens, the state needs to find a way to “allow” such activities in a regulated, controlled way instead of driving these businesses underground and living in denial and expose the citizens to the illicit ring of crime that these businesses eventually materialize in. Regulated tolerance is key. Job Cohen, you getting this?

Amsterdam

2008-02-28T00:44:00.000-08:00

"They say curiosity killed the cat. Curiosity also brought me to Amsterdam. Nobody from my college came to study in this city before, and I cannot fathom why. It’s certainly a city that is world famous for its notion of freedom, its history, its art, its nightlife and its culture. Yet, the average Lafayette student would go somewhere in Spain, spend a good four months basking in the sun, come back with a tan and sometimes, a fake Spanish accent and pretend that they have seen Europe. “Amsterdam? There’s nothing there but drugs and prostitutes. My parents would never allow that. And besides, Spain is amazing!” they say. I don’t deny it. After all, Sinterklaas lives in Spain. So do the Zwarte Pieten. Spain must be pretty awesome.

My curiosity about Amsterdam was different. What sort of people would this city draw from American colleges? Should I expect a group of random shallow individuals who are here simply for the drugs? Or should I expect intellectual thinkers and global citizens out to gather a European perspective? Perhaps a lot of free-spirited adventurers? Maybe a lot of creative, talented artists? All I knew was that I would be sorely disappointed with my belief in the human race if the group consisted only of the former. I am a people person – and I believe that human interaction is a crucial process in developing and understanding the human condition.

The city of Amsterdam itself inspires curiosity. The Netherlands has a welfare system. They charge a ridiculous 60% tax to the higher earning members of society. I’m an economics major, and I simply don’t understand how a person deals with having 60% of his earnings taxed away. Then there are the legal drugs. Prostitution is tolerated. The society is uniformly open to homosexuality. There is support for abortion and euthanasia. The city is built around canals, and its inhabitants travel everywhere on bicycles. In the summer you can even ride around in a little boat. There is much history and tradition to be found in the narrow winding streets, along with quaint little shops, giant open markets, tulips and flowers, savory ethnic cuisines and pleasant live music. The nightlife is vibrant. The Euro is strong. The people are tall, beautiful and always dressed impeccably. They say Paris is the fashion capital of the world. Clearly, they underestimate the Dutch.

My first impression of Amsterdam – it looked chaotic. The maps were confusing. The streets all looked similar. I walked out of Centraal station to see trams and buses everywhere. More interestingly, they seemed to be narrowly avoiding the scores of pedestrians and travelers who keep toppling their luggage over on the tram tracks. The taxi ride to my housing compounded the feeling of chaos – tram lines were laid right on the road, so the cars were sharing the space with the trams. I’d never seen that before – it looked like a recipe for disaster. Such a system would never work back in Dhaka – here the trams are just like glorified buses on tracks – what’s the point, I wonder, if they don’t allow you to escape from traffic jams and busy intersections? The streets themselves were narrow and hardly allowed two cars to pass through.

Then there were the canals. And little boats in the canals with people in them simply enjoying the sun. This was the first time I had seen a city built around functional canals, and it looked amazing. And there were bikes everywhere. Parked on the streets, parked across lampposts, parked on bridges and parked in rusty bike racks which seemed to be more prevalent than trashcans. As luck would have it, my taxi driver ran over a man on a bike. No harm done though. I thought I had seen my fair share of crazy cabbies growing up in Dhaka, but even I was a little overwhelmed. And also a lot more apprehensive about those bikes. Clearly, seeing a man hit by a cab within my first hour in the city was not a good sign.

Every city has a unique spirit – one that is represented by its smells, its taste, its sounds, its structures and its people. From my experiences of the past several weeks, I can safely say that Amsterdam is surely the most unique of all."

Memoirs from Amsterdam: Introduction

2008-02-14T19:34:00.000-08:00

Four years ago, I decided that I wanted to free my mind. I wanted to leave my hometown Dhaka and explore the seemingly endless opportunities outside the “bubble” of familiarity and security. I desired to go out and see different cultures. Experience new ways of life and embark on new adventures. Learn about the world. Very inspiring dreams, yet I had no means of accomplishing them - I had never left the country before, I had no idea if the grass was really greener in other parts of the world and I surely did not have any money to find out. I was just a middle-class high school student with big dreams and ambitions, sitting on a train with a fixed destination, and that destination was not very far. The situation appeared hopeless, yet, I never despaired; instead I did what seemed to be my only way out – I worked hard, put in the effort to do well in school and earned myself a scholarship to a private college in the United States. And that’s how I got off the train.

Four years later – I’m sitting in an apartment in Amsterdam, reflecting upon the life I left behind, my journey thus far, and the outlook for the future. I have come a long way from a little two bedroom apartment in a city of fifteen million people – I lived in suburban America for two years, traveled around, met people from all over the world and these experiences literally changed my life. Continuing on this journey, now I find myself in the Netherlands, a land of unique attitudes, rich history and a notion of freedom that is incomparable to anywhere else in the world. I believe in the transience of life, and among the many episodes of transition, I will forever identify my time in Amsterdam to be central to the shaping of “me” as a person.

Experiential learning is like water dripping from a leaky faucet onto a glass. Every drop hitting the surface creates waves. It also adds to the water in the glass. If the glass is life and the water is experience, then one can see that the glass is empty without water, just as life is empty without experiences. I had many reservations about coming to Amsterdam – starting with issues involving my university, immigration hurdles and monetary constraints. But following through with the plan turned out to be the best idea I’ve ever had. It is very easy to declare how a semester abroad “changed my life”, but it’s not as easy to quantify the meaning of the phrase or even explain how. If I could take a “before” and “after” picture of myself, my dreams and aspirations, my ideals and outlook on life, then I would be spared the trouble of using words to describe an experience which knows no bounds in words. But I will still make an attempt; this essay is a collection of excerpts and is a foray into expressing my thoughts and my emotions and my educational experience during the journey which changed my life. Over the next few weeks I will be putting up entries that highlight my Dutch experience and tells the tales of the process of experiential learning during my stay in Amsterdam...

2008-02-14T19:09:00.000-08:00

Ah V-day. "Time to spread the love". Its fun to have a special day to celebrate love (or love your body, it happens to share the same day out of the 365.25 in a year. Too bad we simply don't have enough days). If it were up to me though, I'd say we need a few more days when we just share happy thoughts. Love after all, is the most coveted human condition, and the little notes that get passed around, regardless of depth or cheesiness all fulfill its very basic purpose - that somebody out there appreciates your existence in their lives.

I guess I'm definitely a little more positive after today. I don't know if it was the 3 hour meaningless-yet-so-meaningful chat I had with a friend yesterday, or the little notes that got pushed in under my door, which, if anything showed that some people remembered and appreciates my little role in the play of life. Little things, but thats what happiness lies in, right?

I decided to put up some journal entries from my days in Amsterdam. In search for inspiration, I think I will spend the next few days looking into myself and even re-live the days those days when I was truly being myself.

Peace - where art thou?

2008-02-07T21:46:00.001-08:00

So much for the resolution. Has been over a month, and didn't find time to sit down and write. I guess it makes sense in a way, I don't want to clutter up this space with mindless droning - blogging space may be free, but there's no reason to abuse that privilege.

My 8-track mind has been going through some rough scratches lately. Spent the break in a basement working for a computer hardware shop. Looks like the place will be my new hideout for a while - I'm the new manager. The good ol' days at the shop are gone - friends who worked left, the fun is gone and now its just another robotic mundane aspect of my life.

School officially sucks. Too much stress, not enough chill-time. I guess its good in a way - chilling is dangerous - cops usually come bursting in through the door, take names down and then you're on probation, your future is ruined, and if you're ever lucky enough to get a job - be prepared to do a lifetime of repentance. By contrast - the honest Catholic only gets 40 days for lent.

I guess I'm writing because I miss my life from a few months ago. Somebody once asked me if I knew the feeling of wanting something so bad that it hurts. Despite the fact that it was quite a ridiculous question about a completely ridiculous topic, I'm in a position where I'm desperately craving that which I want above all - my freedom. A bit of appreciation. Some good times, some good tunes and some good people. Is that really too much to ask for?

Peace - where are you?

A Start

2008-01-01T07:07:00.000-08:00

A new year is supposed to be a fresh start. Resolutions are made, changes are sought and old habits are discarded in favor of new ones (except for those obvious ones that die hard). It ushers in a moment of celebration in our otherwise "regular" lives - a celebration of human emotions, a commemoration of the joys and sadness of the past, a big "thank you" for the present and a blessing for the future.

It also marks a new beginning. A fresh perspective on life. A contemporary collaboration of ideas, thoughts, concerns and emotions. A reflection of the experiences of life. A quest to identify the human condition. The birth of an online entity.

I've been meaning to start a blog for a while now. As much as I was interested in joining in on the internet revolution, I lacked the inspiration and the energy and also ideas. I didn't know what to write about. I could perhaps write about idiots. They are everywhere. Or maybe I could clear my head on the topic of the constantly-degrading-and-now-sub-human quality of my college's dining hall food. But I don't see why the world should care. Besides, people are starving in some parts of the world. I'm not an unappreciative jerk- I worked hard to be where I am, and that gives me a whole new level of appreciation for life.

After traveling around and having the opportunity to live in different societies and experiencing unique cultures for the last few years, I've decided there were way too many ideas drifting around in my brain, and I needed a place to clear some thoughts. I thought that I would sit down and maintain a log of my experiential learning process, and perhaps gain some useful feedback and commentary on my ideas and outlook on different matters of the world and engage in intellectual discussions and debates. If there is one thing I've learned from my travels - it has to be my contention that there is nothing in this world that can replace the educational and inspirational value of human interactions. I know I cannot meet enough people in my lifetime, but I could certainly meet their ideologies, understand their attitudes on life and simply enjoy the benefits socializing. Globalization and the internet has made this world a much smaller place, and it is my intention to use these processes to reach out to the world and find my place in it.

So the effort begins, on the first day of 2008 in an apartment in Amsterdam, the city of freedom, a place which I've learned to call home in the past few months. I don't know which direction this blog will go, but hopefully I'll be able to balance my "real" life and my online life well enough to be able to post my thoughts and realizations as well as my two-cents on political processes, economic development, military engagement, technology, music or anything that sparks my interest.

I see this effort not simply as blogging, but as an adventure - a journey to meet new ideas, inspirations, and people.