So I was doing a little working out today about just how long I have been away from home, and as of today it’s 9 years, 6 months and 12 days. Ironically a half an hour after that little exercise in maths, Neighbours comes on TV, that world famous Aussie family soap that shows the world a slice of upper middle class Aussie family life. I say ironic because I almost never watch soaps and even less than never, I watch Neighbours. But watching it this afternoon, I was suddenly transported back to life in Bris-vegas (even though the show is set in Melbourne), and life in the burbs on the north side of the city (where I used to live). I found it fascinating to see the streets and be reminded of places that I used to rent, and places I used to hang out at, and watch people that had passing resemblances to friends I used to have. It was really strange in a way because it was all so eerily familiar; the accents; the stupid crap that everyone talks and carrys on about; and the humour, that sarcastic unsophisticated dry wit that we have. Not that my life was ever like Neighbours, but Neighbours is sufficiently general enough that it does capture the essence of essential Aussie life in that social demographic group. (Very very… very loosely I should add, since it is a family show and they can’t show the rampant bong toking slacker subculture among middle class 20 to mid 30 somethings, much as I wish they would).

Anyway, after 9 years, 6 months and 12 days away from home, with only 2 visits back in that time, of about 3 – 4 weeks a peice, you don’t notice it happening but there is this slow alteration in your personality over time. Especially when you come to somewhere like The Netherlands which has as much in common with Aussie culture as Aussie culture does with the Dolphin People of Jupiter. (Before you say, bullshit they don’t exist, they do… I read about them in a spiritual awareness book a few years back. They even walk upright on tail fin feet). Yeah anyway, in the beginning when you turn up somewhere where the language is different and life is all different, you just don’t fit in at all. We’re talking ‘massively warped hexagonal peg in a round hole’ don’t fit. But you know, you accept that, and slowly you start to change a few things about yourself to fit in. Normally first it’s how you speak to people by editing out the slang that is part of normal speech, and by using smaller words and slowing it down like you’re talking to kids. You have to do this to make yourself understood in general conversation. Then you stop telling jokes or making wise cracks because people don’t undertand them anyway. After a while you also change your body language to be more neutral. Then you kind of cross a point where this really strange thing starts to occur, you start adopting habits from this foreign culture you’re in. This is a good thing in a way because it means you are integrating, and fitting in with the world around you. Slowly though, so slowly you don’t see it happening, the person you are actually becomes someone else who no longer belongs to either culture. You no longer feel like you are totally from one place or the other, you are someone living in between. This guy John Fowles wrote this book The Magus in which one of his characters expresses so well what I am trying to say here. (Unpaid commercial advertisement follows) You should read this book cause it’s really fucking good, and totally captures the emotions of an expat!

A lot of times here I just live in this state of confusion, like fuck all around me makes sense. I’ve resisted learning the language for selfish stupid lazy reasons which straight away means I don’t understand every day life. And then on top of that comes the confusion of trying to work out the people around you. Funny to say this, but sometimes, I actually wonder if the people around me are on crack or something, because they act so strange half the time. Safe bet that they think the same thing about me. You get so used to confusion, that you actually stop noticing you are confused and just accept it as normal. And that’s when the real confusion starts!

But it’s not like it is in the movies, you don’t go crazy and become a serial killer or anything like that (well maybe Americans do, I’m not sure). No, instead you more breeze through each day making sense of what you can, and watch the rest like it’s a movie at the cinema, only it’s interactive.

This is why watching Neighbours was so bizarre; all of sudden in amongst all of this confusion comes on this soap where I understand all of the language, and I get all of the jokes, and I totally know what each of the characters is like and why they do the things they do. Suddenly I am reminded of this person inside of me that is still there, but I’ve just forgotten about him. And then this feeling of strangeness clears for a while and everything is in perspective. All that from a crappy half hour (mostly) squeaky clean (except for the drug and sex references) TV show from home. Who of the producers would ever believe Neighbours would become a zen focus tool to center oneself in the midst of a swirling pool of culture clash confusion? I ask you (rhetorically).

So I figure now I will keep using Neighbours as a meditation tool to keep myself grounded out here in the main vein of dutch culture called Amsterdam. A few sneaky downloads is all it will take for me to become a man who walks the new world whilst fully staying in touch with the old. A lot like Tom Cruise in The Last Samurai, but with shitloads less Japanese people and sake.

This year though, I have decided I will learn dutch. If for no other reason than so I can understand exactly what swear words people are using to describe me after a badly failed social attempt with a group of dutch girls!

Padwanna!

I saw this amazing film last night. Crash. I hadn’t really heard about this at the time it came out, so it was only when the mates were over that I even knew about its existence. The thing about this flick is that it is one of those very rare films where the people are the story, rather than it being a story with people in it. It’s very much the same style of writing as Magnolia, which I think is a little bit better known.

The thing that really impressed itself on me from the film is the way it depicted the interconnectedness of peoples lives. There were something like six unrelated groups of people in Crash, yet they each weave in and out of each others lives in circumstances that range from very mundane through to powerfully violent. Each encounter really forces you to think because there is much more under the surface of these individuals than you first see. While the theme of Crash is heavily focused on the issue of racism between different ethnic groups in LA, you can see how the message of “all is not what it seems” transcends that one place to anywhere in the world.

It started me thinking about all the lives that I touch, and those lives that in turn touch others lives, and how some of those lives actually come full circle back to me; like when you meet by total coincidence a friend of a friend at party or a shopping center. In Buddhism this interconnectedness is represented by a concept/fable called Indra’s Net.

There have been times in my life when I lie awake at night and wonder if I make a difference in the world. If my being here has any impact at all on any level. And a lot of times I would think, outside of my own very close group of friends, probably not. But of course when you think about it, we each make much more of an impact than we can really understand, because we can’t see how far the ripples flow outward along the streams of people that all connect together, beginning with us. Let me try to put it another way, when you’re someone like the Pope or U2 (for two completely off the wall examples), the ripples that they create reach outward in every direction across the whole world. Everyone knows who they are, and they have a forceful effect that can be felt by everyone to varying degrees. But with ordinary people who are not great spiritual leaders or mega rock stars, our ripple effect is much smaller.

Crash had me wondering about how much of a ripple effect I create in the world. Everyone (or nearly everyone) would like to feel that they make a difference in the world somehow, even just a very small one. This is important to us because we all want to feel needed on some level. It gives our lives a dimension of purpose. Otherwise what is the point to being here if nobody notices you or takes an interest in you. (But I begin to digress). Sometimes – most especially in the last two years – I have felt like I have been but a shadow in the world where my presence is barely registered by those around me. These have been very low times in my life, which generally coincided with times of bad depression and an overwhelming sense of lethargy and apathy. What I didn’t see – but am starting to understand now – is that even the barest of contact I had with only a few people had a strong effect on them, and made a perceptible difference in their lives, which in turn created an effect on the people they connected with. My point being, even those of us that have what could be considered a very small presence in the world still make strong ripples that are felt by others and affect others. In other words, we all make a difference, and we should never feel that we are just shadows in the world. So none of us should feel like we are ever just nothing. Perhaps it is a thought to hold on to when we sit in the very dark times of our lives, feeling very alone and very lost.

The only thing that really is in question, is whether our ripples spread out in a positive or negative way; what is the balance of our force in this world!

Padwanna.

PS – (I just couldn’t leave without saying this) I suppose really one of the reasons that I love to write is because I have felt the power of words in literature, and seen how it affects people. There is something compelling in writing stuff that stirs feeling inside of others. It’s very… powerful, like the feeling of lust. I can see now why great writers write!

So it’s my first time up in something like 5 days where I can actually sit in front of a computer and not have my head leak mucus down the front of my top like a hose, and without my pounding head feel like it’s going to rupture in a massive stroke. Which is why I haven’t been around for a while. It’s the flipside to the 10 days of almost nonstop party/social activities that I enjoyed when my friends rolled into town just before New Year.

Ahh yes, what a time it was! A one bedroom flat in Amsterdam housing 5 people for a week and a half. At times it resembled a social experiment with rats, but where the scientists thought they’d swap rats with people. Kind of like Big Brother, but without the cameras and the adoring public fanclubs.

During that period, we all managed to successfully reverse our sleeping patterns to the point where it was normal to hit the sack around 8 or 9 am, and then rise around 4pm, to get ready for whatever activities were spontaneously worked out! Normally that takes months on it’s own, but we managed it in 4 days. Modern chemistry certainly went a long way to acheiving that particular feat of endurance. We became like the Hominis Nocturnis but without all the cool vampire stuff that goes with it, like sex appeal and female groupies.

Ahhh yes, and inevitably there is also the change to the flat itself that occurs when you have people so densely packed together. Normally my flat is pretty tidy because when there is only one person, you can only make so much of a mess. Well even now after they have left, my place looks like a refugee center (slash) end of year school party venue. I can’t complain too much though, nothing really got broken except for the toilet seat, which now no longer is attached to the bowl. (Not sure how that happened yet). It just sits in the corner of the bathroom looking like modern art until I need to take a dump, in which case I carefully balance it on the toilet and then me on top of it. Certainly makes for an interesting experience where you need to be aware of your balance at all time to avoid moving around like a drunkard standing on a ships deck in high seas.

Unfortunately all good things have to come to an end and around the 7th all the mates packed up and left. I can’t believe that two days later I was down with the worst flu I have had in years. I mean I still had a week of holidays which has all been but wasted recovering from this fucking thing. Yeah well, I suppose it was always going to happen, getting a little sick afterwards, but couldn’t it have been with something a little less virulent. I can’t help but feel I am being punished by a divine entity for having sexual thoughts about girls.

Tomorrow though I am going to get out of the flat and get some air, and see if that doesn’t help that hacking cough in my chest. I have heard that being massaged by nude women helps in recovery, but in the absence of a girlfriend, I’d have to pay for that and my bank account is a bit low after the mates trip over.

At the very least, I’m back. I’ve decided this is the year where I make it big with my writing or die trying! (Which I thought was what was happening two days ago… happily I was wrong).

Hope you’re all in the best of health, and any sexy women that want to give me naked massages to help me get better, please ask for directions to my flat!

Padwanna!