Rain. We have that a lot in Amsterdam. Recently winters haven’t been that cold as they used to be. Instead, there is just rain.
So it rained for the past days. Also during the weekend. But it didn’t seem to effect life negatively. I noticed almost everyone smiling, as I was walking in the rain to the Albert Cuyp market.
In “So long and thanks for all the fish” Rain-man is accompanied by rain. All the time. So he had described 231 different types of rain in his little notebook. (“And he didn’t like any of them…”).
During my twenty minute walk I went through types 47 to 51, “vertical light drizzle through to sharply slanting light to moderate drizzle freshening”. I only got wet a little.
I sang most of the time and many other people I could also hear singing or simply whistling. Rain, an underestimated source of cheerfulness?
“The clouds want to be near him, to love him, to water him”, Douglas Adams writes about Rain-man.
The three of us sit at the front of a small fishing boat, peddling our feet in the water. The captain guides our boat to the fish, over the Marmara Sea with our backs to the Topkapi Palace, the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sofia.
The captain’s son is telling me how grateful he is, how privileged he feels to be able to enjoy Istanbul from a boat. “Millions live here but who is actually able to enjoy Istanbul like this?”, he reflects.
His dad bought the boat just five years ago, after his retirement. Quite a character he is: a funny, open, intelligent man full with humor. As we are unable to catch the big fish we want, he jokes to me not to tell anyone, especially not in the Netherlands. ‘Just tell them that we caught many big fish!’
How amazing to be part of this crew! Just days after returning from traveling from the South of Turkey with my partner, and having been with my new Istanbul host for just some hours, he receives the invitation to go fishing the next day. We get up at eight and an hour later we have our breakfast on the boat in a small Istanbul harbour.
While some of the other fishermen join us I am drinking my tea. They are joking. I am being introduced as the Dutch friend of the son’s friend and they ask me if I can swim and if they also know how to fish in Holland.
A little while later we leave the harbour to a spot a mile away from the coast, where there are more boats and fishermen. We take out the gear and merely 20 minutes later we already caught 40 fish to be used to catch bigger ones closer to the coast.
But the big ones don’t bite and since ‘we need something for lunch’ we return to the first spot to catch more of the smaller ones. We catch at least a hundred more, they are being cleaned o the boat with the water from the sea, and we feed the intestines to the seagulls. Yet an hour later we enjoy our wonderful lunch at the harbour with laughs and stories we share. What a wonderful experience!
And as we were seated with the three of us at the front of the boat I remembered what Vero and I told a man who gave us a lift in the south of Turkey, who asked us if we would need some money: ‘We are happy with what we have and need little to be happy…’
I also come to realise yet again how most Turkish people live their lives. How aware some are with what they have and at the same time how to be thankful for it, how to share this with others who don’t have it, how to share happiness and how not to preserve special things for oneself but to realise in fact that sharing makes everyone better. Win-win at its best.
This principle of sharing, how to be thankfull and to be aware of me being priviliged in terms of the opportunities that I have had, are among the most important things that I learned in Turkey.
Mozart is alive and well. I went looking for him, and was shocked to find him really everywhere: at my breakfast-table staring at me from my cup of coffee and behind windows and on walls while I was cycling around town. We shared chocolates too and he even took me for a boat-ride.
I arrived in Salzburg some days ago, the birth-town of Mozart and a small city in Austria. It seems like Mozart, born just over 250 years ago, never died.
How the city and commercial interests have turned Mozart into plastic, goes beyond my imagination: a bridge, a street, a square, a house. And chocolates, dairy products and other food carry his name too.
When the city wrote a name-contest for a new panoramic boat the name came up first: Amadeus, the first name of Mozart.
I went looking for Mozart. I thought I would find him here in Salzburg. But all I found was a piece of plastic as any other brand. Salzburg? That’s Mozart! Nice for tourism maybe but I visited a city where I found a dead artist reborn in plastic.
And what about art? I thought while looking for Mozart. As I went to his birth-house the only art I could find were the last three letters of his name
