Mountain Girl

Actually I rarely endorse anything like that on my blog, but this time is different.
My beloved Driek is in fact singing with his choir, The Amsterdam Vocals in the "Korenslag" program.

The curriculum of Driek singing goes back to his childhood when he sang Mozart in a church choir and also when the primary school teacher were sending a note to his parents, saying that he disturbs the classroom with his constant humming and soft singing.
Personally I don't think there were ever any time when he wasn't singing. Sometimes I long for just silence....

Well I cheer for them on Saturday 13 of November 2010 on Ned 2 at 19.55.  Just after the day of his Birthday.  Do not miss it.

You can watch the show on the Korenslag website.

Fascinated as I am  by the life of Saints and what they did while they were alive, normal being on this earth, I found out that Saint Cecilia is the  saint patron of musicians. It is said that she sung to God when they were killing her  ( ca. 230 AD ). Talking af the Glory of singing. It helps transcend this mortal body with his aches and pains, if you know how to ......transcend it, whether you sing or listen to good music.
So my prayer flies to her to look after everyone who will perform on that night. May they all sing from their heart.

This poem is for my darling husband:

Labels: Amsterdam, Driek, Johnny Cash, wedding

I spent two weeks in my wonderful mountain in Italy at my birth place. Weeks with family and solitude walking, sometime alone, sometimes with my mom, in the forests still covered with snow.
Slowly in these two weeks  I saw spring unfolding, giving us all a hope for warm weather, finally after this cold and long winter all over Europe.

Last Thursday, the 15th of April, I was supposed to fly back from Verona airport to Amsterdam but  then it all started.
So many people all over the world were affected by the volcanic eruption in Iceland. What a call to wake up mother earth is sending us. I took it with grace. I was happy my beloved husband, who could not join me in this holiday, was safe home on Wednesday evening after flying from Baltimore to Amsterdam. If his flight would have been a day after he would have been stranded in the US, and I in Italy.
So at least one of us was home. And I was lucky to be informed by Driek on my way to the airport, a three hour drive, not to bother and to return to my parents house. Yes I am lucky.

I could go back, in my mountain home town, although slightly in shock and taking care of my aging dad. I had a strong feeling though it would not be solved easily. The earth erupting after 200 years in that particular location was going to effect not just few travelers and me but the whole wide big world.
I took it to heart and didn't complain. I watched online news  and  volcano amazing pictures.


I decided to lose my self even more in the forests and walk, walk, walk till the body was tired and then lying on the fresh new born grass watching the sky, clear of air trails for the first me since I remember.
Enjoying the cloud moving swiftly with wind changing forms and colors.
Feeling my body resting on this alpine meadow, feeling the warm embrace of mother earth and thinking that it is the same earth is spewing fire and ice from her deep roots.
Still I trust this incredible supporting element, still it is worth pondering how dependent we have become from our own comfort and way of traveling.
One day passes and everybody is on shock. Emails starts to come in from friends around the world that for whatever reason were supposed to travel in those days.

Two days are passing and the first bewilderment transforms in annoyance, on the third day I could feel the increasing illusion of wanting everything to go back to normal.  People were even denying the evidence.

I heard comment from people. I was stomached by it. I kept breathing calmly, taking care of my sweet dad suddenly victim of a mild form of ischemia  and surely hiding myself in the mountain. I am tired of the narrow minded  of my friends and other people in the valley. Everyone pretends to know better, even of what is happening inside of you, better then BBC news and other reliable sources, better even then God. I choose to be silent and organize my trip by train.

My 13 years old nephew was supposed to fly for a school holiday to Ireland on Sunday 18 of April. The travel agency told the school teacher to go to Milano Malpensa despite the official warning and announcement that all the airports were still closed. The kids had to get up at 4.30 am to be told by the bus driver who was supposed to take them to Malpensa to go back home to sleep. The trip was canceled. Did they not know that before?

What an eye opener to never forget how vulnerable and dependent we are.
Finally after 5 days of waiting I took a train from Bolzano to Amsterdam and after a 15 hour train ride I was able to reach home and fall in Driek's arms.

An interesting observation and personal experience on this train ride. The people who was stranded around Europe and trying to get back home were sharing some of their adventures. We bonded with each other beautifully, helping each other and bringing it out the best in us.Those who were on the train for short business trip untouched by the volcanic explosion and consequent difficulties to return home  they were not interested at all in our story, showing instead a lack of empathy and simple kindness.

Human heart.... how marvelous and surprising that is.
It is in fact true that danger and pain brings people closer, as it is in fact even more true that indifference is the graveyard of one's heart.

But after all the flowers are still blooming, the busy life of Amsterdam is continuing almost forgetful  of last week's discomfort, my dad is in the hospital and my heart is preparing for the inevitable.


Throughout it all I still breathe in and calm my body, mind and soul and I breathe out and smile
to the mysteries of life and wonders of mother nature.

Labels: Amsterdam, Mountain

Labels: Amsterdam, Friends, prayer, wishes

Dialogue between roses.

–What are we doing here?–Cried out one rose in the bouquet. –It is cold today in Amsterdam! I always heard about how beautiful is this city and I was looking forward to come here. But really I didn’t expect this ending. What do you think sisters? Dam square has absolutely stunning architecture but the view from this rubbish bin is a bit crooked. The royal palace is not even visible as they are remodeling and cleaning it. It is Saturday afternoon, the square is full of people. How come nobody notices us? No, really, of all places where roses should spread their beauty and fragrance this was not foreseen.–

Sister rose, on the right, answered, –if only people would notice that we are beautiful and fresh so they could have pity on us and relieve us from this torment of being neglected and rejected.–

The nearby sister came out with her sensitive voice and said: –Somehow when this man came to choose flowers in the Venlo station flower shop, I had this peculiar feeling. I felt he was not clear, from his being was radiating fear and hesitation; his outward behavior was edgy and angry. He didn’t even know how to hold us and got pricked by the little brother thorn. It didn’t mean to hurt him, if only he would have hold us with gentleness. How much was the poor man swearing because of that! God please forgive him, he was just very agitated.

However when we heard he was going to take a train to Amsterdam to meet a woman he never saw before, we were all very excited to this new excursion and perhaps, who knows, we were the witness of a beginning of a sweet love story. I could read his mind and what he was thinking. It has been a while he wasn’t going out with a woman and he was trembling to his core. He didn’t know much about this woman, he saw just a photo on an online dating forum and exchanged few basic information. Nevertheless they decided to meet. It has been all too frantic, something was not supposed to happen.

It takes time and patience to get to know someone, and still we may never know deeply a person.–

Sister rose in the middle observed, –when I saw him waiting and waiting near the Coffee Company for more then 2 hours, and us really getting cold, I suspected she wasn’t coming. We may never know what happened to her and why she didn’t show up. The point is that we are now here, an outcome of a moment of anger and despair, total helplessness and disappointment. He dumped his frustration on us–

Few of the other roses were screaming: –God have mercy on us, please, please let us not end here alone and in the darkness. We are made to bring joy and to invite love in the heart of every person. Help us to fulfill our purpose!–

Look – said the first rose – that Lady with the white jacket has noticed us. She is shocked.-How come such wonderful roses have been tossed away so brutally?- she said. She calls her husband - I see they wear the wedding ring- to make a photo of this contradiction of life. The beauty trapped in the mouth of the beast.

She is saying: “Amore, why is this here? I mean this is a blog entry, a nice story of a bunch of roses. Please make a picture.”

After a moment she added, “do you know, I really feel bad about leaving these roses here. They are beautiful, it hurts my heart to see them in this rubbish bin. I don’t care what people may think or say if I take them out. They are wonderful to me and anything for them is better then lying here in the cold, just because something has gone wrong with somebody.

I don’t want to take them home. Let’s bring them to St. Nicholas church. We are going there anyway to listen to the Choral evensong. Maybe I can give them as an offering to Mary.

I wonder how many of those unaware tourists know of how wonderful can be to spend 45 minutes of time with such devotional and uplifting songs. Maybe the tourist department could help to spread the news of this event that takes place every Saturday at 5 pm in the St. Nicolaaskerk in the city of Amsterdam. A church that, to me, offers such mystical and devotional moments, where God never fails to soothe my longing soul”.

–Oh yes, yes,– all the roses where whispering. And quietly were waiting to see their new destination.

The Lady of the Lady, Mother Mary of love and grace was smiling at them. The candles burning happily all around for all beings who suffers from pain, anger, uneasiness of life. People kneeling and devoutly reciting their prayer to the Holy Mother, finding comfort, solace, a little light and a sweet warmth in their heart. The red roses on the side, proudly and humbly smiling for the unexpected gift to be able to fulfill their purpose and give their total life to it.

Thank you beautiful roses for offering me a moment of Love and devotion.

One of my favorite songs.

"The rose" by Bette Midler

Labels: Amsterdam, prayer, song

Labels: Amsterdam, death, Osho, poetry

How to describe the experience with such a humble Buddhist monk who, at the same time, is the source of inspirational and spiritual guide for all the Tibetan people, a Peace Nobel winner? I can only try to explain how I felt inside while other 10 000 people were going through their unique experience of sitting with His Holiness the Dalai Lama.

It was what he said that touched my heart, and it was how he said it, and it was the silence of his presence and the few minutes meditation at the end of his lecture that filled my essence and brought peace to my mind.
He is a man who walks his talk. And there are no many men that do that. Amongst my inspiration I can list few from Gandhi to San Francis, from Mother Theresa to Thich Nhat Hanh. People who lived their life for the greater good, and truly intensely practicing compassion in every step of the way. Saints or Buddhist monk who walk this earth with a message of love and an example of wisdom in action. Bodhisattva to its fullness.

So much has been written about the Dalai Lama and his message of optimism, never giving up the hope to return to his country as a free being together with all the Tibetan in exile.

I simply love the man. He evokes in me a sense of hope and deepens the message of the Middle Way.
He speaks clearly and simply of the Buddha message and especially bringing down, in the here and now a sense of responsibility in each of us to develop compassion. When fully applied and lived thoroughly these principles could end any war, any anger, any negative emotions. If only men would take the time to investigate their own mind, their motivation, their purpose and their way they carry out actions, there will be less struggle on this planet.
The Dalai Lama was emphasizing that no matter which one is your spiritual choice and religious beliefs, every practice needs enthusiasm, every practice needs actions and determination to deepen a better understanding of the mind - the soul - the Ultimate truth. Call it how you want it.

The Public talk was on "The power of compassion in turbulent times" . You can order any talk given in Amsterdam and in other places at this link.

He commented on Shantideva 's teaching about "The perfection of patience".
10.
Why be unhappy about something
if it can be remedied?
And what is the use of being unhappy about something
if it cannot be remedied?

Is it not wonderful? To let the truth of this statement to be fully realized inside ourselves will bring great peace of mind, lessen the fights, and reduce the worries to ashes. Why not? I believe it is possible to turn the destructive emotions in harmless states of the mind. We only need to learn not be disturbed by it. And if we can learn how to deal with those emotions then we won't suffer from them, we won't be enslaved by the emotional turmoils that clouds our vision and performs wrong doing.

The Dalai Lama words from my notes:

"We all have the ability to turn all of the difficulties, mental problems into something good.
Mental problems come when one hates to face the problem.
When there is more challenge there is also the possibility to have more understanding."

To that I couldn't avoid having a tears tickling down my cheek. After all I am always in rapture when the divine touches my soul/no soul (atma- anatma) in me. Much the same as when I read Hafiz words when the Lover whirls in ecstasy around the Beloved/ God.

How many challenges have I been facing in my life and still am. And how much I learned from it and still am.
At the doorstep of another important change in my life I am humbled by the gifts bestowed upon me and through the pains and aches of my heart and body my happiness is real.
The happiness of the Buddha.

The Dalai Lama and Osho. My life with Osho

I used to sit for so many years in the Buddha hall listening Osho talking about every possible subject. Although I really liked some of his discourses especially on Zen I really didn't appreciate some of his political view he had. In the name of being a rebel, not identified with anything or anybody, Osho spilled often heavy judgments on remarkable and wonderful people. He criticized Gandhi, laugh about the good deeds of Mother Theresa and had the arrogance to even give suggestion to His Holiness the Dalai Lama.

I remember that discourse in Buddhahall in 89, from the series: "No Mind: The Flowers of Eternity", Chapter #8. He talked about the Dalai Lama.
I had a bitter taste in my mouth the day after I sat with His Holiness, thinking about Osho lectures. But I had the sweetest taste in hearing and being with this remarkable man in the Amsterdam Rai the 4 of June 2009.

I've found that discourse and these are the words that Osho spoke:

"I have loved Buddha, and I have loved those who have loved Buddha. I have deep love and respect for Dalai Lama. My suggestion to him is: don't leave this country; just drop the desire to be the sovereign head, the political head of Tibet. In fact, it is not right for a religious man to have such aspirations for being a political head. Just drop that idea. Be an ordinary meditator, a lover of Buddha -- then China will not ask for you. You are being asked for because of your continuous desire to be the head of Tibet again. Too much water has gone down the Ganges; it cannot happen, at least in your lifetime.

But my insistence is that fundamentally your desire is wrong. Tibet is gone, out of your hands. You should have renounced it. Your desire for power is a political desire -- it is shameful in a man who is thought to be a meditator. Just remain in the Himalayas, and nobody is going to trouble you. The trouble is arising within you because of the desire that you want Tibet to be again under your rule.

Forget all about it. It is ugly, absolutely condemnable, to have such a desire. That was the singular message of Gautama the Buddha: don't have any desire in this world; when the other world, the mysterious world, is ready to open its doors you are asking for some illusory power. This shows that Dalai Lama himself is not a meditator.
I would like him not to go anywhere. You have a beautiful place in Dharamsala -- go inwards. It is time that you prove that there is an inner world far more precious than anything the outer world can give to you. And if you cannot prove this, who do you think is going to prove it?

Once he drops the desire and the claim, and he becomes an ordinary, simple human being, China has no interest in him. He can live in the Himalayas -- he is accustomed to living in the Himalayas. "And I say again: nobody is going to behave in a friendly way with you. What can you offer? China offers a tremendous power. You will not get shelter anywhere in the world."

Now I must say, despite the upheaval that my statement will bring up in some of my sannyasin friends, that I am ashamed I sat in Buddha hall and listened to these words. I should have stood up and left. I was young, young and naive. And I was trained to sit and listen in total silence and even if reaction where coming up inside I was supposed to watch them, borrowing the Buddhist way, and not react even when it was going against my better judgment. If I could re-live that moment with the awareness and a bit more understanding of now, I would stand up and leave the hall.

Osho certainly had some insights, however he was a man that really had an attachment in provoking people. He enjoyed to create contradiction tremendously, instigated arguments and generally went against any opinion and ideas but I am not sure if he knew anything about politics. He had a great vision of the new "spiritual man" but he also did not walk his talk!



But yes Osho is after all gone and the Dalai Lama is still here walking his talk. I am in awe and in deep appreciation for who he is and how after so many years he can still stand tall, clear in his mind, not polluted in his heart and still with a vision of optimism that, despite the ugliness forced on his People and his Land, Tibet, he insists in bringing this message of true compassion to this world.

The Dalai Lama still stirs up, after 20 years from Osho's discourse, huge uproar in any country he visits. He brings around the world the issue of human rights, religious freedom, political inter-dependency and a message of love and compassion. He didn't give up and he is still here and not because he is on a "power trip" as Osho accused him but simply because he is a man of words, a man of Good Heart.

Long life to His holiness the Dalai Lama. His favorite quote.

"For as long as space endures
and for as long as living beings remain,
Until then may I too abide
To dispel the misery of the world"

Shantideva

"It is in the salt inside your tears where the divine hides his Love,
it is in the wrinkles of your smile
that peace irradiates joy to your heart "
Milena (June 09)

Labels: Amsterdam, Osho, poetry, Tibet

Labels: Amsterdam, Friends, Osho, song

It was a very sweet day in de "Oude Kerk" in Amsterdam on Valentine's day.
There was music and singing, roses to offer to people, some of them with poem attached to them. A place to read out loud the many beautiful love poems written for this occasion.
A day where we could also dance and sing with magic in the air for the premature departure of our beloved friend Virendra.
There was an area in the church dedicated to sit and write poem about love.
This below is what came out in the moment, on a day where the love of God and His presence was felt deeply and undoubtedly in my heart.

Labels: Amsterdam, Friends, poetry

Today is the 30th anniversary of the mass suicide of the Jim Jonestown cult in Guyana:
the People's Temples.
I was only 16 years old, at school in Merano (Südtirol) when we heard the news, and I remember saying to myself that I could never follow a crazy guru. I will be never involved in such groups.
Little did I know that years later after a positive and uplifting experience as a sannysin I would end up in, what is referred by the professional in this area, a destructive cult.
A group with a marzipan coated name: Miracle of love.
And when I think that today in the anniversary of the victims of People's Temple a Mol intensive seminar is going on in Germany where the actual participants are indoctrinated in the Mol philosophy, my heart hurts.

And then I remember to breath. At least Mol is not a suicidal group. They are too attached to life and wealth and too afraid of death to be wanting to end their life.

May those who survived the massacre, and the family member and friends who lost someone in the mass murder, find peace in their heart.
May those who lost their life in such a terrifying situation rest in peace with the angels above.

I believe we can end the suffering by choosing to practice mindfulness and compassion,
When the time is right and when the heart is ready, forgiveness can grow out of it.
Remembering and not forgetting is essential.

A few days ago a Dutch TV channel showed Anne Frank story. So the young generation won't forget.
In April this year I was guiding around Amsterdam a school class of Italian boys, between 17 and 18 y.o. I took them to Anne Frank house. Amongst the 35 students only 2 knew who she was.

"May the sound of your voice resonate always in my heart
so that I can recognize peace when it enters the natural mind
with its gift of wisdom" (Milena)

Labels: Amsterdam, death, Miracle of Love, poetry

My life with Osho

The first time I flew to see Bhagwan/Osho in Bombay I took a KLM flight from Amsterdam, where at the end of '86 I was living.
Amsterdam has therefore a direct link with my life in India. Yesterday at the opening day of the Indian festival in the city, this realization suddenly hit me.

In the years I lived in Poona, in the Ashram (Osho Commune International) I was blessed by so many beautiful events. Somehow I didn't have to go much around, the best Indian musician would come and play for the sannyasin in the beauty of the Buddha Hall. Amongst many celebrities I had the pleasure to enjoy and being entertained by our beloved HariPrasad Chaurasia. He was my favorite. He would come and play with Zakir Hussain whose tabla's rhythm is unique and indisputable to me, the best.
Normally those events would happen in the night, after Osho's discourse when he was still alive or after his video after he left the body. I remember hurrying to grasp something to eat at Mariam canteen or by the Zorba restaurant and then go and find myself a place in Buddha hall. The floor in Buddha hall was made of marble and it the night it could get very cold. Knowing the long preparation before the actual concert I was always keen to have a place where I could stretch my legs and if needed lying down to rest my back. The long tuning was to me a concert in itself. By the time they started the concert the auditorium was sank in profound silence. You could only hear the wind through the bamboo outside the amazingly huge mosquito net. We didn't have walls to protect us from the outside, but I never felt so safe like sitting on that cold marble floor with a tend over us as a roof and the net all around. Amazing place. It is a pity that nowadays who goes to Poona have to meditate in a steel building shaped like a pyramid but still a concrete building. So I am told.
Hariprasad and Zakir Hussain loved to play for us. He used to tell us how grateful he was to be a friend of Osho and therefore to be invited to play for us.
I for sure have sweet memory of those moments.

Hariprasad Charausia

Anyway I was delighted when yesterday evening at the official opening of the Indian festival I saw Hariprasad and Zakir playing together again.
We went to the Concertgebouw to see the Kathakali dance and as a surprise we got the appetizer with my favorite Indian sound. We all became a little older, but his music remains profoundly touching an inner chord that brings who can listen to silent where time can actually stop.
I could enjoy their playfulness, it is one of the most remarkable aspect of these two masters of Indian music, they are not only playing but they communicate with each other with a cheerful nodding and acting together with the sounds of their instruments.
I still have few old tapes of both of them that I bought in M.G Road in Poona.
Now they are on my iTunes so I can hear them whenever I want.

In his long career Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia received many awards. But it was only last night that I ever witnessed such a moment when he was honored by being made officer in the Order of Orange-Nassau.



Kathakali in Amsterdam

What to say about the Kathakali. I think is an experience to enjoy their amazing dances and singing. I wish I could have stayed and watch them all night long, like the performance in Kerala.
This last March when we visited India we missed it, but now I know I want to see more of this spectacular colorful and powerful depiction of the Mahabharata epic one of longest and most revered epic in world literature.
What it makes it so superb is the exquisite variety of facial expression to describe the inner drama of the oldest sacred story on earth. The actors who by the way started to do their
make-up hours before the performance, are not talking, Their costumes weight few kilos however that doesn't prevent their body and faces to dance and move in the most expressive way. The musician and the singers are mostly on the background and they narrate the different scenes in the native language.

As I said it is an experiences to watch them and drink deep within the sweet and spiritual taste
of one of the most loved tradition in India.
I thank the International Center for Kathakali New Dehli who performed last night in Amsterdam for taking me for a short moment in the land I love so much: India.

Labels: Amsterdam, India, Osho

Sheikh Hassan & Friends in concert in the library of Amsterdam

Labels: Amsterdam, poetry

I can never stop wondering why is it that I am living in the big village of Amsterdam which is below the sea level, mostly grey and wet? It is the paradox of my life at the moment.

There are days though that I love to be here. They are few but nevertheless precious.
Last Sunday was one of those days.
For the first time I went along the canals with a friend's boat, a typical old amsterdamse metal boat.
Curious to admire the walls of houses deep in the water. And the sun was even shining.
Never before I felt the similitude with Venice.
Don't they call Amsterdam the Venice of the North?
Sometimes I think it is very presumptuous of the Dutch to claim that honor, but after all I have to admit you don't smell grass in the street of Venice.

Amsterdam is just Amsterdam



In May 2006 I wrote this poem.

Amsterdam bagnata
Amsterdam con i suoi canali
Amsterdam, acqua sotto, acqua sopra, buio, vento, un’orrizzonte grigio e piatto come i visi delle persone che vedo oggi.
Si muovono veloci, inciampando tra un negozio e l’altro senza un saluto, senza un sorriso.
Perche’ bisogna sempre parlare bene dei paesi che ci ospitano?
Forse che descrivendo le brutture queste diventano ancora piu’ macabre?
Non credo, parlandone, esprimendo queste sensazioni diamo un altro colore al mondo.
Nella sua banalita’ c’e’ dello straordinario.
L’uomo che incontri ad Amsterdam ha un sapore furtivo, come se avesse appena rubato un attimo al tempo.
E’ raro in queste strade trovare un sorriso e allora non regalo anch’io al prossimo sconosciuto la gentilezza di uno sguardo.
Oggi e` così, ora e' così, forse tra un attimo una sensazione di benessere mi pervaderà e sentirò di poter anche amare questa citta’ che ha troppo grigio.

Ma anche ad Amsterdam puo’ splendere il sole,
anche ad Ansterdam puoi trovare dei sorrisi.
Li’ devi cercare.
E allora li trovi.
Continuo a cercare, senza fermarmi,
anche quando ho già trovato.

The English translation will have to wait.

The contradiction of a mountain girl living 4 meter below sea level, where the only mountain I see is the most recent webcam photo from M.t Macaion on my huge Mac screen.

Labels: Amsterdam, poetry

Just last Friday night I passed by Tuschinsky with my future husband Driek and there was a display of dutch celebrity for the Premier of "Music and Lyrics" with Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore as guests of honor.
We decided to wait for a while and enjoy the "not so glamorous dutch scene". The crowd was nice and we had a good time while we were waiting for the two stars to appear and walk along the red carpet.

Suddenly the moments comes, the police and security closed down the road, we were comfortably standing when out of the blue two young dutch/Surinam girls started heavily pushing against me and holding their cheap cellular camera in front of me, practically sticking their elbow in my nose.

I felt annoyed and turn around to tell the one next to me not to push. She started screaming in return to go away if I didn't want to be pushed offending me, speaking surprisingly in my mother tongue, in a real poor Italian. I stood there and told them to stop being so nasty when in a split of a second I found myself with one hand around my throat and long nails piercing in my skin, another hand was flying across my face so heavily for couple of times that I was almost knocked unconscious, if it were not for Driek holding me and preventing the girl to keep slapping me. He got one hand, inclusive with nail, straight into the corner of his eye. Eventually he managed to grasp her wrist and stopped her. She turn around and flew away with her friend.
I was in shock and in tears, my head was hurting, pounding and my throat was burning and coughing for air.

No one noticed anything!
Police, security and the crowd focused on Hugh Grant and Barrymore walking just a meter away from us.

"Do you know Hugh that I got punched as I was calmly looking forward to see you? And I am not even your fan......but I always like your British humor. This time though it sticked to my throat and it didn't make me laugh".

It made me vomit, I felt so absolutely ignored, and the hurt went deeper then the scars I was left on my face for days after.

Is God testing me in my compassion?
I don't know. I can only say I was lucky I didn't fall and people stepped over me, but then perhaps I would have had few line the day after, in the Parool newspaper!!

Sometimes Amsterdam is an absolute bummer and sometimes I hate to be living here.

Labels: Amsterdam

Today the sun was shining few times on old Amsterdam.
The works for the new metro line under the Central Station are continuing.
Drilling of the heavy metal big pole, pounding in your ears.
The water of the IJ remains calm
and the hustle and bustle busyness on the ferry is always the same.

Writing and reading with this steady rhythm of a drum without melody.
But at least the city hall of Noord Amsterdam is informing you of the possible noise for the upcoming..... weeks and years....

Another day behind my orange curtain, in the coziness of my home.
Who wants to see the water again?

Oh.. how I miss the mountain and its silence!

Labels: Amsterdam