Bali to Amsterdam

By the time I got on the plane, I had already been awake for more than 24 hours.

I’d worn ‘travelling’ clothes, looking my best, which in all honesty was still pretty weird. I didn't have any normal clothes, and there was no hiding the dreadlocks that sprouted out of my head and fell below my shoulders.

I nodded to Rik, Fi, Leon and Uri as they disappeared into the customs area. For some reason, my bag still hadn't appeared on the carousel.

As I stood to wait for my backpack a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair appeared beside me.

‘Hey there’, she said in an obvious Dutch accent, rolling her Th sounds into D sounds. ‘Where have you come from? You look tired. Good flight?’

‘I’ve been in Bali and I’m exhausted, it was a long flight and I didn't get any sleep. I think I’ve been awake for 48 hours now.’

She raised an eyebrow and smiled. She was gorgeous! Tight jeans, a baggy t-shirt, big denim jacket.

‘Have you been to Amsterdam before?’ she said it Amshter-daam and it sounded so cute. ‘Do you know where you are staying?’

Oh yeah, I thought to myself. I could be in here.

‘Nope. In fact, this is my first time outside of New Zealand. Where would you recommend? ’

‘You’re by yourself? No friends?’

‘Oh no, my friends have already gone through customs. I’m going to meet them at a cafe called The Grasshopper. You can come with us if you like.’

‘Oh, that’s nice of you. I know the Grasshopper, it’s a nice cafe.’ She said nice as 'nishe'. I loved it.

My backpack finally made it around the carousel. I picked it up, slung it over my shoulder.

‘So are you waiting for your bag?’ I said still facing the carousel with her on my left. ‘I’ll wait to go through customs with you if you like.’

‘Actually no’ she turned to face me fully. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out an ID. ‘I’m a Customs Officer and I’d like you to come with me to answer some questions.’

That stopped me in my tracks. She couldn't have been older than 25. She took my elbow and walked me across the concourse into a small room.

‘Put your bag on the table, please. My colleague will join us soon’.

Sure enough, a much more official looking customs officer in a uniform walked into the room seconds after we sat down. He was a bearded giant, close to seven feet tall, he had to duck a little to get through the door.

‘Open your bag please’ said my beautiful blonde friend. ‘Have you got any drugs concealed in your luggage?’

I felt so small and deflated.

After a thorough search of my luggage, she left me alone with the giant for a strip search.

‘Enjoy your stay in Amsterdam’ she offered as she left the room, ‘Get some sleep’.

Great.

Thanks.

After I put my clothes back on and reassembled my dignity from the jigsaw pieces of my ego that were scattered on the floor, I left through the main doors, had my passport stamped and walked into Amsterdam.

Rik, Leon, Uri and Fi were all waiting for me, sitting on their own bags. Slumped and tired like me.

‘What kept you, James?’ Rik stood first, another giant, but much friendlier and funnier than the lumber-jackish Customs Officer that had just had a close look at my arsehole. ‘Did they lose your bag?’

‘Nah man… I just got strip searched. There I was getting chatted up by a hot chick thinking ‘Yes I like Europe already!’ and she wasn't interested in me at all. In fact, she obviously thought I looked dodgy as fuck and had me searched in a side room.’

That got everyone's attention.

‘What?’

‘Bullshit’

‘You okay Jamie?’

Rik started laughing. I looked at him in askance. ‘What?’

‘James’ he said ‘I’ve met loads of people who’ve been searched leaving, but you mate, are the only person I’ve ever met who been searched going into Amsterdam.’

By the time we got to the Salvador Dali exhibition, I felt like I had taken some strange soporific drug. Time behaved strangely, events sped up and then slowed down. My field of vision was distorted, things in close proximity were vibrant and intense, anything in the distance was blurred and curved like I was looking at the scene through a fisheye lens.

Whenever I stopped my body would shut down. I was having little blackouts; my brain would just switch off. I couldn't follow conversations and would just stare.

The exhibition featured Dali’s paintings and sculptures of elephants with long stretched out legs. Each elephant in the painting or the sculpture carried or had a floating cenotaph on it’s back. One was ridden by a gold angel playing a celestial trumpet. One carried a crystal with a golden ear near the top, rubies and emeralds on the saddle.

One of the paintings was his oil painting 'The Temptation of St. Anthony'.

St Tony, the man himself is in the foreground, naked holding a cross aloft in front of a procession of strange elongated beasts - one rearing horse and five elephants. They’re all carrying various objects and naked women. It’s full of symbolism and is really quite weird when your vision is already distorted. In my state, the sunrise colours pulsed and vibrated. The elephants were animated and the sinewy St Anthony contorted in place.

I don’t remember leaving the exhibition. I don’t remember walking back to the hotel and I don’t remember going to bed. But it all happened.