Squatting in Leiden

     For three days we've been in Leiden, where there's a vibrant squatter scene and lots of couches to crash on. We were refered by Greg, as this was where he lived for several months during his travels. The squatters here have been incredibly welcoming and desperatly want to know first how Greg is doing in his "stable life in America" and second if I am in fact his girlfriend and if not am I fair game. I have given the same story multiple times, "yes Greg is well, yes he's going to school, yes he actually IS going to school, believe it or not". I dodge the girlfriend question. There was also the inevitable moment when one of his friends realized that I also happen to be the girl that broke Greg's heart when he came to live here in the first place. Slightly awkward, but every awkward moment here can be smoothed over with good conversation and maybe a little herb.
     Speaking of which after the last few days my brother has decided to take a vow of sobriety. I am an avid supporter of this, especially after The Burble got stoned and  then we had to wander around the city for hours while he spewed utter nonsense to no one in particular. Apparently Dutch weed is stronger that American weed, tho this hasn't been my observation. Maybe The Burble is a lightweight.

     There are three squats here that we split our time between.Up until now we've been staying in a nice place on the canal with a name that might mean lighthouse but I'm actually not sure. My Dutch is atrocious and all the Burble can say is "you are the most beautiful goat". He threatens to use it on some beautiful Dutch girl but fortunatly hasn't yet had the chance. Everyone in this squat seems to be Polish and they have in incredible tolerance to alcohol. They spend their time yelling in Polish and smoking copious amounts of weed. 

     We have an entire room to ourselves here, if you don't mind the ceiling leaking and possibly falling in. Neither the Burble nor I mind tho because the company is entertaining and the meals (stolen from dumpsters) are fantastic. 

     The other squats are The Couch, (filled with Brits playing endless games of chess), and The Multiplex, a multiple storie office building filled with friendly cats and French people. There they have a venue called, (to my great amusement), The Sub. It's 10' by 20' and they squeeze as many people as possible into to listen to "screamo", music which I'm still undecided about. Everyone divides their time between these places and doesn't seem to work or have any problems. I can see why Greg would love it . However after more than a year of constant work and structure I find myself out of place here. This seems to be the equivalent of the circus community I live in in the states, (they all spin poi and aspire to someday go to the fabled Burning Man), but I am eternally reminded that the Europeans work to live whereas the Americans live to work. Things here move too slowly for me. I am unable to "just chill" as everyone keeps telling me to do. The Burble has his music which affords him countless friends whereever he goes, but I make friends less redily and after only a few days I'm ready to move on. The opportunity has presented itself in the form of a wonderful French girl named Flo who is taking us with her to Amsterdam for what's supposed to be an epic party, then we'll hit the road for Berlin. 

     Today tho I'm planning to explore the city a little more. It's beautiful, like every city I've visited in this country. There are several churches and lots of amazing architecture. I was especially pleased with this one, which apparently shows people being naughty, doing horrible things like playing a guitar upside-down and sleeping. And possibly having sex with a sheep, I'm not quite clear about that one.The inscription warns people not to misbehave. It's my favorite building here.

   

      There are also swans here, which makes me really happy. They're huge and beautiful and so clean because they take regular baths in the canals and spend hours carefully cleaning their feathers. Wandering around I ended up in a park behing some houses. The houses her eare tiny but they each back onto a canal where they all have little boats. There isn't anything like the kind of excess we find in America. People here have small cars, small houses. And you know, they're happier. They're friendly in the streets and they smile more. Americans look down on places like this and you hear American tourists in their loud voices saying things like, "Honey, it's so CUTE! How QUAINT!". They just don't understand anything because they haven't left their happy little ignorant bubbles. It makes me sad how people can be here and see nothing as it is. Fuck the "Tourist Experience". I am NEVER going to go to a place and buy the package deal with the hotel, scenic boat ride, tour of the city carefully skipping the ugly parts.

      We'll be in Berlin the next time I am able to find a good computer. The squatters here are facinated and confused by my blog. They like to repeat the word but Tony matter-of-factly states he wouldn't even know what a blog is.  I think they look down on my dependence on technology and my desire to keep in touch with people from home. They sense weakness. Apparently I need to prove myself by drinking lots and lots of cheap wine.