I AMSTERDAMED Pt.2 Through The City

Tram number 13 slowly became my best friend, meeting me every day around noon to take me all the way from Geunzenveld right to the end of the line – the town centre – and, from there, I’d just let my feet work a little, sometimes for three or four hours straight, until I’d suddenly change course, grab something to eat and find a quiet canal that would inspire me to put my latest impressions, thoughts and sentiments down as notes in my phone.

Oftentimes the last tram 13 would conveniently be resting somewhere in a station around midnight, almost as if waiting for me, ready to remove and save me from all that madness, excess, sin and bad habits for which Amsterdam is highly renown for and guide me back home, to the cozy, calm and family-oriented periphery where I would get some good, healthy rest.

But I wasn’t going to fall in the same trap most tourists were. I wasn’t going to explore the city through somebody else’s lens, I wasn’t even going to be the conventional traveller with a “to see” list in my pocket (but only because I forgot my list at home in an unfinished word document, otherwise we would probably be talking about windmills and street markets and NDSM and Van Gogh and stroopwafels right now – no, we wouldn’t be talking about those atrociously sweet things anyway, just the thought of them makes me wanna drink gallons and gallons of water).

 

 

All jokes aside, I just wanted a different kind of experience, a unique and intimate one that only I could go through, only I could understand and explore, something that would take guts and a little bit of madness and a whole lot of vulnerability, something that would crack my mind open and reveal it to me, so I could finally heal whatever darkness was left in there. I guess you could say I wanted to experience a super intense journey of the mind, so ‘shrooms were the best option. But once again, there was absolutely no plan, no previous research of possible effects, mental and bodily reactions, how it works, what to do in case of an emergency, safe words, wrong turns, nothing. I wanted to be really surprised.

It all happened so abruptly, I didn’t even know what hit me. I was just walking around the Red Light District one day, saw this weird little place, with semi-obscure fluorescent green neons and various containers in a window that looked like an alchemist’s laboratory. They call it a “smart shop”. I was in awe for the most part, staring at the names on the bottles and trying not to think about what I was about to do too much. All I knew was this would somehow prepare me for Ayahuasca, so it had to be done. There were various types of truffles, some for deep, dark introspection, some came with the promise of joy and good times, some with feelings of invincibility etc. As my goal was to stir up my mind’s waters a little, I went for the Psilocybe Tampanensis (the Philosopher’s Stone), but the nice, knowledgeable lady suggested I tried the Atlantis instead. I listened to all the advice she gave, but followed very little to none of it – I was going to do it on my own terms anyway, that was the challenge. I found a nice semi-secluded place near a lamplight, (it was around five in the afternoon) took around 10g, (for best effect, it has to be chewed thoroughly, which I didn’t mind because, although the taste was strange, it was quite crunchy and we all know how much I love crunchy stuff) turned on the music, started writing and the wait begun.

Fifteen minutes later still nothing (I was told it wouldn’t happen this fast) but I was sure nothing would happen anyway, I thought I was in complete control over the situation so I just got up and went on another walking session. I got to a place I haven’t seen before, a wide canal with quite some boat traffic and youngsters dangling their feet above the water, the Basilica of Saint Nicholas in the distance and colours everywhere, such vivid colours…

It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. I must have spent at least half an hour there, just taking pictures – the same kind of pictures, from the very same angle over and over again, wondering how come nobody else was in awe, but me. I don’t even know how I convinced myself to move along, but I did eventually. It was such a hot afternoon, I was getting kind of dizzy and feeling like I was kind of levitating and had to find a new place to sit down and process all the new and different sensations I was having. Found this canal with tall trees on each side, where you could see the sun’s reflection in the tallest windows and hear the sound of forks, plates, interrupted laughter and incomplete conversations ricocheting around the air from a small nearby restaurant. It was perfect.

 

I had my sunglasses on already, so things were a bit too colorful from the start, but when I glanced at my phone and saw it shapeshifting, I knew it had begun. Somehow the screen turned salmon pink and as I was writing, my fingers were sinking deeper and deeper into the keys. There was no way back.

So I kept writing everything that was going through my mind and decided not to keep my eyes closed for too long for fear of not going too deep inside. I had to keep myself as grounded and present as possible; I was alone in a city I knew nothing about and had all the important stuff with me – camera, money, passport, phone – so I couldn’t just lose myself in the feeling completely.

Also, a subconscious fear of falling or throwing myself in the water emerged from te depths, which is strange, because, consciously, wherever there’s water, there’s usually me. In the meantime, my fingers were typing and typing all the gibberish that wanted to come through and the water kept changing colours and they were all so hypnotizing…

I probably looked ridiculous, inert and lost and spaced out, but the truth is that inside, there were so many questions and magic and stories and panic and little devils with very little power over me were trying their best to put me down, then a sense of “this is wrong, Raluca, what are you trying to achieve with this?”, shame, salmon pink, a tingly sensation in my legs, a poem about us that just had to come out, rhymes and words and worries and refusing to close my eyes, tiredness, guilt, colour, than nothing…

 

 

“So it must be over” I thought, but as I’ve come to notice, this thing hits you in waves. So this was just a small break I was given before the next one. I think I would have had a completely different experience had I not been alone, because I never fully dared to cave in to it. But some good stuff came through anyway, had multiple realizations, some new things that needed addressing came to the surface and three hours later, I was left strangely shaken, (both inside and out) with a tone of new things to focus on and – not gonna lie to you – with the conclusion that every introspect who wants to become the best version of themselves should try this thing at least once in their life, in solitude, locked in their own mind’s cage with all their demons and guardian angels and put them all to some good work.

Needless to say, Tram 13 was also there to take me back home for the end of my trip, when I was finally able to stand and walk, just in time for sunset and, boy, was that one of the best moments of my life as we were leaving the town centre and the sunlight was reflecting in the buildings, spreading golden light and long shadows everywhere…I was proud of myself: I had conquered another round of demons, I had made it through this experience and, once again, I was enriched and a whole lot stronger.

Green Eyed Kisses,