Mentalechoes

Yesterday I wanted to do something nice for my friend - the one having a trial seperation from his wife - I figured something to brighten up his life would give him a lift so I was going to go and buy a game voucher for him in town. It was a nice afternoon when I got going, sometime around 1.30pm. I jumped on my trusty (rusty) pushbike and made the ride through Vondelpark (the central park of Amsterdam) into the city and parked somewhere parrallel to the main shopping strip smack bang in the middle of the action.

Now it’s important to understand that the Dutch and Saturday afternoon shopping are like Peacocks in mating season; everybody puts on their dazzling best and they parade around as much to be seen as to shop for luxury goods. The first time you see it you are not sure if you are shopping or part of a grand fashion show for the public.

The center shopping strip is a kilometer long road that is seperated into two halves by a small intersection at about the middle. Human traffic follows the road rules in that you walk on the right and if you want to turn around you pull out and do a U-Turn into the other lane and make your way forward. Under no circumstances do you just turn around and walk against the tide of people coming at you - you seriously won’t last long before you get trampled under a stampede of angry fashion victims on their way to bargains.

Now I rarely join in this ritual prancing about because; one, I don’t really buy a lot of fashion stuff so I have no need to shop on Saturdays apart from groceries; and two, I can’t cope with the bruises afterwards. When I entered into the fray at the top end of the street, I could tell this was bigger than the usual Saturday crush. I wondered if I had accidently stumbled upon ‘Sale of the Century’ weekend and every man and woman with a creditcard had come running in the hope of a cheap buy. Whatever the reason, Kalverstraat was seriously packed out, and there was an intensity to the movement like a MOSH pit heaving at a live Korn concert! I was carried along shoulder to shoulder with jazzed up people all armed with bags and boxes which they used to lethal effect on lesser shoppers such as myself. I was smashed about too by a platoon of mothers pushing prams much like pilots in the US armoured division drive Chieftain Main Battle Tanks around Iraq. Hell, even this one little kid of about 8 fully headbutted me in the nuts at a half run as he was playing tag with his friend in the crowd. When I stopped and tried to let the pain subside from my swollen testicles the mother just then turned around and said to me with a plainly irritated look on her face, ‘watch where you’re going’!

It was then that started to see that this, this shopping trip was just another MOSH pit of life. Sure a different setting from the ones I used to jump around in when I was in my foolish and reckless 20’s, but nonetheless essentially the same thing; tons of people all voluntary throwing themselves together in small spaces in the name of entertainment!

I managed to visit 4 shops, none of who had what I wanted, which annoyed me no end because in this shopping mecca where you can purchase just about any luxury good made in Europe, they didn’t have this one crappy little game voucher I wanted. If I didn’t know better I would think it was a conspiracy by aliens or something. However, thinking that would mean I just watch too much TV… right?! So in the final store when the 16 year old bored-as-fuck shop assistant said they didn’t have what I wanted, I decided to leave. But not before being elbowed in the floating rib by a woman eyeing off the Power Ranger boxed set in the stand in front of me.

I really only do this to myself once every few months. Basically when the memory dims on how bad the last time was, I do it again, and then remember why it is I don’t do it more often.

All I can say is, thank god for internet shopping.

Padwanna!