December 08, 2004
11-28-04The echoing sounds of church bells finally infiltrated my deep and restful sleep. I walked to the half curtained window, set ajar the night before, and looked out upon the clouded sky that never seemed to clear. I tidied up the room so as not to appear the slob by the maid and took a long, hot shower. I packed up some essentials and climbed up the narrow carpeted stairs towards John's room just before 11:00 a.m.. I knocked lightly, I waited for a reply.
"Who is it?"
"House keeping."
"Huh?"
"No, it's your traveling companion, silly."
John undid the lock and I pushed my way through the heavy door as he jumped back into bed. He looked around and inquired of the time while I smiled at his half full glass of whiskey sitting on his night stand. He chattered for awhile with his usual morning monologue as I sat on the floor next to his bed. It was too early for talk and I had not yet the patience to give full attention to his discourse. I stated that I would be waiting for him in the lobby to allow him time to get ready for the day and slowly quit the room.
The cafe downstairs was always busy with patrons and employees and I sat down at the end of the bar, ordered a hot chocolate and a glass of water and read The Suicide by Edna St. Vincent Millay - a gift John had given me on the flight. I took out my pen to make some marks in the margins as an older gentlemen shook the rain from his shoulders before sitting beside me. He was a small man with kind looking eyes and white hair. He ordered a cup of coffee and I could feel the constant shift of his eyes as he looked me over as well. I stirred my hot chocolate and returned a slightly nibbled cookie to the saucer before resuming with my book. I had not read one sentence when the man next to me raised his eyebrows and stated,
"Awful day out there - cold and rainy. It's even worse with all of the people running around for the big shopping day."
"Big shopping day?" I inquired.
"Yes. Every four weeks on Sunday, the streets fill with open markets and it is considered the 'big shopping day.' Otherwise the town would be dead right now."
I listened to him with wide eyes and nodded my head. I turned to the large windows behind me and noticed a table with an awning outside which kept a massive display of bras and panties dry from the rain. A heavyset woman was holding a sheer piece of red silk up to her body and I quickly turned back to the gentleman on my left.
"Nice view we have here - best to face forward."
He turned around to take in the same scene and laughed for a good minute. This opened the door for more discussion between the two of us as John made his way into the cafe. He said he would be outside and thus I took my time finishing my half full hot chocolate and recently lit cigarette. The gentleman asked of my origination and why we were on holiday. I told him about John's son and the game we attended the night before. He rolled his own cigarette and I watched him with fascination as he deftly rolled the tobacco into a paper. John returned to inquire as to whether or not I was coming and I quickly scrambled to get my things together. I had not realized that he was waiting for me and I bid my good-byes to the talkative gentleman who had kept me company. He warned me to bundle up and soon I was squinting my eyes to the drizzling rain.
John had a million thoughts running through his mind that morning as we made our way to the train station to exchange some American dollars into Euro. I quietly followed him, hearing his every word, and watched the variety of peddlers as they displayed their goods to the passing mass of people. A half an hour later, we were at the train station and standing at the exchange booth when John realized he had forgotten his passport. He could not use his credit card to receive money with it and thus I exchanged my last $60.00 for 45 Euros. The woman behind the counter actually apologized for the horrible rate and we pointed out that it was not, indeed, her own fault. We quit the station to return to the hotel for John's passport.
Halfway back, I looked up to notice Charles approaching us wearing a blue hat and wide grin! His hands shoved into his jacket pockets, he greeted us with that quick paced voice. He pointed out that he had seen us walking from the bus and hopped off to meet up with us. He relayed to his father that Jacco Swart wanted to meet John that night at our hotel at 8:30 p.m.. John nodded to his son and remained perfectly silent. Charles than turned to me and inquired about our trip to Paris and of how I liked Europe. I babbled on for some time and then stated that he was meeting the other side of his family for brunch and had to get going. He gave me a sort of lasting look before turning down a small side street and waving good-bye.
John was very quiet during the remainder of our trip back to the hotel. Once inside, I wiped my eyes of rain and declared that I would stay at the hotel while he went back to procure more money. We went to our respective rooms, saw each other again in the lobby and parted ways. I found a comfortable booth in the middle of the cafe where the wide windows and exit were on my left and the bar and wait staff were on my right. I ordered another hot chocolate and gently stirred the steaming cup with one hand while reading A Moveable Feast with the other. A waiter came back about 20 minutes later and inquired if I would like to place an order and I skimmed through the menu, dared to order the first thing that I was unsure of, but promised to stave my appetite, and resumed my reading.
A large plate was set before me with an overstuffed baguette filled with churrizo, salami, sauce and cheese. A small portion of potato salad and thin slices of cucumber accompanied the sandwich and I relished in each bite of this delicious meal. I watched the people passing by the window and pausing to read the menu outside the door. The place began to fill as I finished one half of my sandwich and then pushed away the plate, taking out my notebook and pen. As I wrote, I looked over at an older couple to my left who were enamored with their own sections of the newspaper, drinking coffee and deciding to save their appetites for Sunday dinner. A young couple sat directly on my right, filling two of the four chairs with shopping bags and soggy, dripping coats, glancing at my paper as the spoke to each other in whispers. I watched yet another couple outside, poking and prodding through the tables filled with lingerie and night apparel, grinning playfully at the more racy items. I continued to write and smoke and watch and wish for another waiter to take away that half empty plate in front my books, when John walked in and sat down at my table.
"Come on. We've only got this one last day, lets do something!"
"Alright. Let me put away my books and I'll meet you back down here."
"Sounds good."
I deposited my belongings into my room and hopped down the stairs back to the lobby. At the bar, John had ordered two beers and thus we relaxed for about 15 minutes before heading out. John seemed happy and I was eager to follow him out of the cafe and down the street toward the water. The hill we descended was steep and my legs were still in protest to my enthusiasm, but I held my own as we approached the water. Across the bay was the town of Arnehm where Charles went to school and to our right was the Holland Casino. We walked a bit further to a large floating restaurant and I offered to buy John lunch as I knew he had not eaten yet. He accepted and we strolled upstairs to take a seat by the window. We watched the giant barges easily flow toward the sea and felt the wake they left behind gently rolling the ground beneath us. It was a good day to sit inside, drink some beer and watch the rain puncture the top of the murky water.
I grabbed a menu that was all in Dutch and ran my finger down the lunch items, blindly picking the first one that looked interesting.
"I'll order you this," I said while making my way to the bartender.
She took my order and soon returned with what appeared to be a small bowl of Corn Pops cereal. John and I looked at each other. I wondered where the milk was. I insisted that he try one of the small, yellowish balls before him and he discovered that they were nuts. Beer nuts. I ordered John beer nuts for lunch. We laughed and toasted the day, just the same and continued to babble as we looked out over the water. A waitress came around to our table and I asked if she had an English menu. She did, we looked it over and decided to go somewhere else for dinner. John went downstairs to use the WC after we consumed about six glasses of beer and were ready to leave. I went to pay the bill and was only charged five Euros. I quickly handed her the money, left a tip of the table and made my way downstairs to join John. I relayed the amount that they had charged me, stating that it must be off, and we made haste toward the door so as not to be stopped for the proper amount.
We could barely exit the building without laughing our heads off. We followed a long flight of steps back up into town and John spotted a familiar place that he had dined at before. It was a pancake house, but these weren't just pancakes. They were soft, pillowy circles of sweetened crepes filled with virtually whatever one wanted and topped with tons of powdered sugar and vanilla icing. John ordered the blueberry crepe and divined in his meal. After John disclosed the fact that he could rarely finish one of these meals without getting his clothes full of sugar, I found myself unable to resist. When he was finished, he raised his hands into the air to show his perfectly clean, dark brown sweater, free of white leftovers and I inhaled deeply. I let out a mighty rush of air from the back of his plate and blew powdered sugar all over the front of his chest. He sat very, very still as I simply continued to laugh my ass off in giddy excitement.
"You just couldn't resist, could you?"
I squeezed out a mousy, "No!" before falling into even louder laughter. I tried to contain myself to no avail. The tears were streaming down my cheeks as he remained silent and sedentary, finally calling over the waitress to witness my evil crime. She smiled and removed the evidence before I could do further damage and I apologized through my laughter and tears and I quickly bounced up to pay the bill. We returned to the hotel around 6:00 p.m. and headed to our separate rooms in order to relax before the big meeting with Jacco Swart. I turned on the TV to the only English channel I could find and swiftly fell asleep to the doll drums of some corny comedy.
I woke at 8:00 p.m., threw on some makeup to cover the dark circles under my eyes and headed downstairs. The evening made quite an impact on me. John sat at the bar under a dramatic set of softly glowing amber lights, fingering a glass of red wine in deep contemplation. I asked, with a smile, if I might join him and ordered myself a rum and coke with a glass of water. John seemed so calm and collected, light and airy and perhaps even a bit well rested as he smiled back in a contented fashion. We rolled over what might be said during the meeting and waited for Mr. Swart to make his entrance. It was 8:30 p.m. on the dot when he swaggered through the door.
He did not appear quite so big and bulky in his more comfortable attire and his gentle eyes met mine as he gingerly shook my hand. We moved to a table near the bar and ordered Jacco a cup of cappuccino and another red wine. We lost the beautiful glow of those yellowish lights from the bar, but gained a bit of privacy as the spot we chose was partitioned by a wide, ceiling high beam. Jacco pulled out a small pad of paper and pen and began, almost immediately, to take notes of the story that John was to tell of his son Charles and his experience with the NEC team. The meeting went on for nearly two hours as the two men conversed about the downfalls and hopes from the past to the present. More wine was ordered and many empty cappuccinos cups were taken away to be replaced by another before the conversation slowly dissipated. Both parties seemed satisfied and many points of view were firmly established. I noticed tears in John's eyes as he concluded his story of all of the strife that his son Charles had been through.
*** To be Continued...