Laura slammed the door of her appartment behind her. Amsterdam was starting to drive her crazy. Nothing remained of the flowerpower attitude she had greeted a couple of years ago. Amsterdam was the capital of the world for drugconsuming. Everything was available and more. From all around the world fucked-up people bought a ticket to Amsterdam Airport. Drugs, booze and prostitution made Amsterdam like Las Vegas. People flocking together to make their behaviour look acceptable. Which it was not. She felt treated like a whore many times. Complete strangers touched her breasts in the subway and just laughed. "No respect, no dignity.", she thought. I have to get out of here. Whithout hesitating she started packing her things. A while ago she had been talking to an elderly guy in the coffeeshop. He said, that he had left the city and moved up north to a small seaport, about two hours by car. "You will find your peace there.", he had said, when he left. It would take her about five hours by public transport to get there. One of the last things she threw into her bag, was the pack of cards, she found a couple of years ago. She hesitated, but then packed it carefully. It looked like they were glowing, but she had no time to spare. If she wanted to be there by daylight, she had to hurry. For the last time she looked around her. She had been happy here. But she had to move on. Amsterdam was no longer a place, where you could live your own life.
Public transport in Holland was the worst in the civilised world, maybe even worse than the trainstations and busterminals in Guatemala and Brasil, she visited. Those were places filled with light, music, food and playing children. "Apocalypse.", Laura thought when she looked around. The terminal was almost deserted and scarcely lit. The walls were covered with graffiti and worse. The place stank.
In the times of Atlantis this delta was a prosperous province of this Great Empire. But after the fall and after the flood the sea had taken almost half of the land. Only 70 years ago this gap had been filled. The Dutch and the Frisians, which did most of the hard work, built a dam of giant proportions. Connecting two parts of Frisia, which used to be one. A long time ago. The bus she was waiting for, would take her across the waters to the seaport, which name she had scribbled down in her notebook. It was almost midnight and she had no idea, how to find a place to stay. It felt good though. She left the dirt, the noice, the polution and violence of Babylon behind her. She realised, that for the first time in years, she felt at ease. Almost automatically she started meditating about Atlantis.
It was a time of material wealth and spiritual chaos. Mankind tried defining itself again and again in ways which were alien and opposite to their origins and destination. The most bizarre rolemodels dominated the youth. Sex, luxury and danger dominated thoughts and actions around the world. "Everybody is afraid, just like in the last days of Atlantis.", Laura thought when she mounted the bus, which was late, as usual.
The only other passenger was a man in his thirties. Obvious a sailor, who went immediately to the back of the bus and fell asleep. Laura chose the seat behind the driver and relaxed. At daytime it was an impressive ride. About a hundred feet wide and 38 kilometers long, it was one of the greatest engineering projects of that time some 80 years ago. It had an colossal impact. But the parts of the former Frisian empire, which meant the coastline from Denmark to Belgium, had drifted apart. Instead of reuniting the past powers, they now were competitors in a global economic battlefield. At night she saw the moonlit waves on both sides of her, dotted with light. Impressive too. Laura opened her bag looking for her waterbottle. Instead she packed the deck of cards. In her first year in Amsterdam, she had seen a man, being chased and shot at by the police. He had dropped a bag in front of her and before running on, gave her a begging look, as if he handed the bag to her. Everybody, including the police ran around in total chaos, so she could easily pick up the bag and put it in her handbag. At home se had studied the cards. It was an unusual deck. One side showed an old weapon, carried by to red eagles. On the other side, they were all different. Faces, landscapes, maps, symbols and formula. The cards had a silvery glow about them then and this glow got stronger when she opened the deck. The faces looked familiar, as if they were member of a family or brotherhood. "You are getting closer. Hold on." She shook her head. "Who was that talking?" She looked around, but het only companion was the sailor. who was still asleep and the driver, who listened to his Ipod. "I must have been falling asleep.", Laura thought and she put the cards back in her bag and found the waterbottle. The bus passed an old and abandoned military fort. It was here, in World War 2, that the Dutch and the Frisians, had put a halt to the Nazi-warmachine. Though the battle had been highly exegarated, you could still feel the pride and determination when you were inside the bunkers. At least, that she was told. The bus left the highway, to make her way to the small, though important, Frisian harbortown. "Which once was an outpost of Atlantis." Another voice said. Laura knew, that she needed a joint to silence these voices, which kept telling her tales of old. Tales from before the flood. The busterminal was dark, dirty and desolated. The young sailor had put his bag on his shoulder and disappeared into the darkness. The bus, filled with drunk students, made his way across the seas again. It would be dark for several hours. Across the street was a bridge, which led into a small park. Laura had her sleeping bag with her and she had slept in worse situations. She could also nick a bike, there were several hundreds of them standing around, and try to find a better place to spend a couple of hours. A roll a joint. Still hesitating she saw a woman, in her thirties, dressed in black, approaching her. When she was close enough, she looked into a face full of determination and passion. "Welcome," the stranger said. "Welcome to Atlantis. We have been expecting you." Before she could say anything, the woman picked up her bag and signalled to follow her.
The railway station was built 150 years ago outside the old city. They passed several waterways and walked through scarcely lit alleys. If Laura had been alone, she would have stopped to inhale this mysterious atmosphere. But the woman in black went on, without saying anything. Suddenly the scenery completely changed and she looked at was a huge harbour, filled with classical and traditional ships. Though she saw no people. she heard the noices of people handling merchandise and preparing the ship for departure.
"We are almost there.", the woman in black said, while walking along. They walked across a bridge to the other side of the harbour, which was surrounded by late-medieval merchanthouses. In those days people showed off and most of the warehouses, hotels , restaurants and private building were beautifully decorated and plastered. Even in the dark the atmosphere was full of expectation for the day to come.
The road lead downward and they left the harbour behind her. Gone were the majestic buildings, she had admired just before. After a few minutes her guide went to the left and disappeared into a dark entrance. Laura followed her and entered a kind of plaza. Though scarcely lit she saw the trees, the beautiful garden, surrounded by table and empty chairs. It looked and smelled like some kind of restaurant.
They went upstairs, where she saw a row of appartments. A bit like a motel, but here you saw plants, beautiful paintings and lit sculptures. "I hope you don't mind.", her companion said, pointing a the number above the door. Laura smiled. "13 is my lucky number." "You can stay here for the night. Try to get some sleep. We will talk in the morning."
Suddenly Laura felt tired and she nodded. "Thanks for helping me." The woman opened the door to let her in. "Like I said, you were expected."
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WHO CONTROLS THE PAST, CONTROLS THE FUTURE. WHO CONTROLS THE PRESENT, CONTROLS THE PAST. George Orwell.
vrijdag 7 maart 2014
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