Andrew woke up saying this had been the first night
of real sleep he’d had since arriving. (We’d talked previously about
avoiding day naps and forcing yourself to keep going till bedtime, but somehow
that was not the route he wanted to choose. He admitted that having never been
abroad, he really wasn’t aware what jet lag was all about and had never had to
deal with it. Well, now he has!) As well, I was feeling not as poorly this
morning, thankfully. The night before, having trudged through the cold out-of-doors
to get to Andrew’s apartment, besides having gotten beaten up earlier in the
playground, I wasn’t feeling so great – I had even come to the conclusion that
my cold had evolved into a full-blown sinus infection. (The cold that keeps on
giving – that’s what I’m calling it. It’s already been longer than the allotted
21 days, and it keeps right on going. It has changed directions (i.e.,
symptoms) so many times it’s unbelievable . Don’t know quite what to make of
it, but Leah tells me others she interacts with have been experiencing similar
symptoms. What I DO know is that it is very inconvenient AND yucky. Boo – not
fun!)
After arriving at our warm, safe harbour the night
before and chatting a little, we struggled for quite some time trying to figure
out how to get to church the next morning. Of course, the EASY part is finding
the location on the map – the absolutely more difficult part, figuring out HOW
to get yourself there, without a person in the know leading you by the hand, is
another thing altogether. I wanted to fulfill my goal of attending church in a
foreign land so bad, but being both tired AND sick, I finally gave into fatigue.
We went to bed late and I felt pretty awful. I REALLY wanted to go – while the
thought of the early hour we’d have to get up, get ready, eat, etc. and still find
our way to the building by 10am sounded pretty daunting, practically an
inconceivable task, enough to dash any hopes I might have had. I prayed, wondering how we’d be able to make
it happen, but as He does for the believing, their heart in the right place, the
Lord blessed us in our righteous desires.
As usually happens in the morning, our minds were much
more alert and we were able to figure out a route to get us to our destination. (You wouldn’t believe what a task that turned
out to be! At several points we really despaired that getting to church was ever
really going to happen! I don’t know if you can appreciate how really difficult
it was for us, not knowing anything about the local transportation system –
train (more expensive and less pervasive), buses and the underground metro
(mostly for travelling around, and away from, the city), and trams (the most
usual, cheapest, and best, we came to understand!). Miraculously, Andrew was
able to make some heads and tails of what we needed to do. Getting us in the
general direction by train, from where we walked the final few blocks wasn’t
the quickest – OR most economical – but hey, it got us there! (It would have
all been so much the easier if we had followed the advice of Andrew’s building
handy man, flat mate, Dick. Surprisingly, and at that point, amusing, as well, he,
the night before, had suggested we ride bikes, (easy!) and had kindly offered
his very own personal bike for me to ride. You can imagine my reaction – heck,
no! I don’t think so! Are you kidding me? In my Sunday clothes, in the cold,
and the rain? Aaa, no way, no thanks, but surely do appreciate the gesture!
(Take your pick of cerebral responses!) Thankfully, we never had to resort to what
to my mind was entirely un-resortable!
We arrived at the Amsterdam Ward, at Koningsstraat
34-B (I’ve discovered that the street name seems usually to precede the number),
at an amazing ten past the hour. Another
interesting bicycle sidelight - as we neared church within blocks, we were
passed by a man on a bicycle, whose face for some reason we happened to notice.
When we arrived at the building, we discovered that he had actually been headed
the same place as we were and greeted us as we entered through the front door. While
a fully-fledged ward, covering a huge metropolis, the membership itself was
very tiny – though those in attendance were as earnest as members any and everywhere
in the world. First up was Relief Society (Priesthood for Andrew). Held in the
chapel, a sister missionary sat in a little translating booth, and translated
the lesson into English, fed into our headsets. For Sunday School, English
speakers retired to a separate location.
It
was at this point that that amazing ‘small Mormon world’ thing happened: right there, at the seeming ends of the
earth, who should we come across but a young lady who as a student had worked
right next to me in my job at Conferences & Workshops. She and her husband,
both from BYU and with the cutest little boy named Andrew, have been in
Amsterdam for three months now, with three more to go – exactly how long Andrew
and Ashley will be there! He works for Dell, headquartered in Houston, where
they will return when this stint is over - seems it is their practice to send
their newest employees to far-reaching parts of the globe to broaden their international
outlook. The Lees are very excited to have Andrew and Ashley in the area. (They
also live centrally, while most are further out, they said.) In fact, the frist
thing out of Stephanie’s mouth to Andrew was would his wife like an instant new best friend,
as of course, she does NOT work and is free much of the time. Pretty cool for
Ashley - actually both of them guys to have built-in friends from the outset. (There
was another young American couple, the Tensmeyers, as well, the husband serving
in the bishopric. They will also be great friends, I know. Not sure of their
situation – we talked with them after church, and they were awfully nice and
helpful, no kids.)
Came across several rather wacky (touched in the
head?) men at church – one of whom was the first speaker. You could tell that
the elder doing the translating was having a heck of a time articulating the
brother’s words into coherent thoughts. Following this talk (which wasn’t
making a whole lot of sense to us), the American member of the bishopric spoke.
He said he was going to give English speakers a break from straining into their
headsets, at which point the other member of the bishopric proceeded to
translate his English into Dutch. So it was back and forth, with considerable
pauses, for either language speaker. (I don’t think I could do that – give a
talk like that; I would definitely lose my train of thought. I was duly impressed
that he could!)
After church, Andrew and I soon realized that this
would be the only day, in the few I would be spending with him, that we would
have daylight hours to explore Amsterdamtogether. After returning home to grab
a sandwich (so much easier from Centraal Station, the main ‘centrally-located,
central to the entire city’ railway station, than our meanderings the night
previously), wanting to take advantage of every precious moment, we quickly
changed into walking clothes and took off for the center of town – straight
down just a few city blocks from the station, we came upon it easily. In fact,
you could hardly miss it! We just kept following the trails of people, this way
and that, and eventually without really trying we found ourselves in the middle
of Dam Square (or simply – the Dam), the quintessential European town square. On the west is
the neoclassical Royal Palace Royal which served as the city hall from 1655 until its
conversion to a royal residence in 1808, beside it the 15th-century Gothic Nieuwe Kerk (New Church) and Madame
Tussaud’s Wax Museum (one of
several throughout the world, the original in London) – with De Eendracht
(The Unity), war memorial to memorialize the victims of World War II, on
the other side of the square. (Of sad note - On 7 May 1945 (this is how they show dates
here in England – in Europe, as well, obviously), two days after Germany’s
surrender, thousands of Dutch people were waiting for the liberators to arrive
on the Dam square in Amsterdam. In the Grose
Club members of the Kriegsmarine, the German navy, watched
as the crowd below their balcony grew and people danced and cheered. The
Germans then placed a machine gun on the balcony and started shooting into the
crowds –120 were badly injured, 22 pronounced dead.)
The most amazing, astonishing
thing was HERE I was, smack dab in the middle of the photos I’d seen in
National Geographic Magazine, all my life!
We walked around the city center, which is quite
close to where Andrew lives, and got ourselves better oriented. (One specific reason
for our daylight foray was that ever since first getting together with Andrew
the night before, he’d been wearing split-out pants (trousers in England –
pants are underpants), and the rip was getting worse by the minute. As things
are a lot easier to get a handle on when you can see things, we had wanted to
get an idea of what might be available when we went out the following day – in
the dark. How about a five or six-story H&M? That oughta do it! Found it right there on the Dam. (Though
Andrew had intended to make these pants do for one last day, after plunking on
the bed that evening, I’m afraid they went ‘beyond the pale!’ Andrew ended up
wearing the only other pair of pants he’s brought to work the next day – a pair
of capris. That’s my boy!)
Unfortunately what put a very unhappy damper to our
joyous excursion happened when we accidentally stumbled upon one of Amsterdam’s more loathsome claims to fame –
its infamous red light district, known as De Wallen.* We were just innocently
strolling along, on a regular street – not down some back alleyway – when
suddenly out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of several virtually naked
women in the store front window, with red glowing lighting, dancing around as
if to indicate, ‘come in, come in’ - right there on the beaten path, for all to
see. For me, coming from a pretty sheltered background, it was rather disturbing! (I find that prostitution in the Netherlands is both legal and regulated.
The Wikipedia article, Prostitution in the Netherlands, tells that historically,
all through the ages, the practice has NEVER been illegal. A iniquitous element
of the world {devastating for the women caught in it, heinous for the men who
partake} you would especially NOT want to spoil the spirit of your Sabbath, but
perhaps that’s what you get when you are up and out in the world, on what
preferably would be a day of rest, sequestered away from the world. That brief sideways
glance cast made me instantly regretful that we were there and not tucked piously
away at Barentszplein 7, spoiling what had otherwise been rapturous moments of discovery.
Soon following this incident, our spirits somewhat dashed, we made our somber way
back to the safety and security of Andrew’s little room.
*[This world-renowned district is located in the
heart of the oldest part of the city, Amsterdam-Centrum, covering several
blocks south of the church, Oude Kerk, and crossed by several canals. Netherlands is listed by the
UNODC as a primary country of destination for victims of human trafficking,
and city authorities are very worried about the current situation: ‘We've realized
this is no longer about small-scale entrepreneurs but that big crime
organizations are involved here in trafficking women, drugs, killings and other
criminal activities.’ The vast majority of the ‘workers’ are foreigners, as are
their ‘employers’ and human traffickers- with 75% or more from Eastern Europe,
Africa and Asia. As a former Amsterdam ‘worker’
who is now a city councillor said: ‘There are people who are really proud of
the red light district as a tourist attraction. It's supposed to be such a
wonderful, cheery place that shows just what a free city we are. But I think
it's a cesspit, with a lot of serious criminality. There's a lot of
exploitation of women, and a lot of social distress. That's nothing to be proud
of.’]
Photos_
1-The Kerk
2- the steeple – open the door and there're all
the people! (the flat panel that goes off to the left of the kerk is the same
panel on the right of this photo – connect the dots, meaning the steeple is NOT
attached to the main building as we are used to; sorry couldn’t get both the
name and the steeple in a single shot)
3- Centraal Train Station (our beacon to everywhere else!)
4-5 Dam Square
6- De Eendracht
7- really great store front gimmick of 3-D Van
Gogh art (Andrew wasn’t so sure Van Gogh would have appreciated this innovation
to his work - 'course he had a gaping hole in his crotch seam, so can we honestly trust this person's opinion!) to attract museum goers – the museum itself across the street
8- the biggest, danged H & M you ever did see! (really amazing that this fairly recent fashion newcomer has a prime real estate spot on Dam Square when you think about it, actually. From its inception in Sweden in 1947, didn't even branch out from there till the 1980s, and at that point to Germany and the Netherlands)
