Amsterdam - Part 4
Was day one conventional? Difficult to say. We observed canals, trams and cyclists. By midday, we had ticked off Ann Frank's house. But the start of it had been fraught. On the frogmarch towards breakfast, I managed to keep the peace by agreeing that certain coffee shops weren't for us on the grounds that they didn't sell any recognisable coffee when they patently didn't sell any coffee at all, not that it could be acknowledged. But there had been a blistering argument when a wide fronted shop with a car showroom sort of window had suddenly appeared. The kind in which there were half a dozen naked gyrating women. That I had had the temerity to stop and observe for a few seconds was greeted with a warning about perversion, not that he was religious in the slightest. It made me stop for longer and the row got worse. At root what he didn't like was that his map lines hadn't worked for him. The map should have indicated every "land mine".
We went off to Haarlem earlier than expected, ostensibly so as to escape the City of Sin. It is a nice town. Tree lined. Not a great deal to do. As the kick-off wasn't until the evening, I did persuade him into a record shop although he wasn't overly impressed by music. It was totally empty and a little elderly couple were behind the counter. The record that was on featured a jazz saxophone. Moonlight in Vermont. It had a lovely, settling feeling like being in an oasis of calm. Even Kev liked it. I asked the couple who it was and they said it was Ruud Brink and Trio Pim Jacobs. Unknown outside the Netherlands. Big in them for many years, especially the early 1960s. They had had personal connections with them. Brink had just died. They and Jacobs had visited him in hospital and they were so pleased that a young British person would show such interest in them. I bought the CD and I treasure it for the way in which it absolutely encapsulates that moment.
Google FC Haarlem today and you will find that the club is now defunct. That is not entirely surprising given what we experienced when we ultimately rolled up at their ground on a cold February night. I rather liked the ground. Small and provincial, surrounded by greenery and with just one burger van on the street outside which could be accessed at half time, its most notable feature was a modest running track around the perimeter of the pitch. As for the first half of football it was dire. So dire in fact that after 25 minutes about 40 of the thousand strong crowd ventured onto the track and started up their own football game in parallel. It was of much better quality but Kevin was not at all impressed as it was a distraction for him right in front of our eyes. Fortunately he accepted my suggestion he shouldn't walk over and complain.
However, his opinions were expressed to me loudly and they carried on the wind. By half time, both matches had stopped for a while. The spectators who had commenced with one of their own went off to get burgers before returning to their seats. I did get us coffees but encountered a few glares in the process. That made me decide that when the second real half began I wouldn't catch anybody's eye and just focus determinedly on the match. The parallel match was not recommenced. I assumed that those who had been involved were somewhere to my right as they had originally been also watching FC Haarlem. "Funnily enough" I said to Kev "it started out bitterly cold but it feels like it's getting a bit warmer."
Uncharacteristically he took his eyes off a game. He moved his head in my direction to say "yes" but what came out of his mouth was an "oh". "I think we'd better move" he said. "They have set light to their seats and the flames are coming fast in your direction". When the match was stopped and the fire engines turned up, we did move rapidly and all the way back to Amsterdam. One small glass of beer and three quick if extremely difficult pisses in a bar later, we were back in our "room".
