This blog post is being written on a train ride to Paris. Europe has really left it’s mark on me. I’ve fallen in love with this culture, and it’s people. Greece and The Netherlands came as a welcomed change from the previous countries we visited this year.
The public transportation is a real step-up. I’d even go as far as to say that a European train ride is rather enjoyable. After many trips from Amsterdam to up north or down south almost every weekend I never got bored or uncomfortable. There is even a quiet section, and section you can take your bike. These things would never be possible in the over-crowded trains and buses of South America or Indonesia. However, a two hour bus ride in Peru costs maybe two soles, but a two hour train ride in Europe is about twenty-three Euros. Yikes!
Sarah and I at the molen (windmill) in Harkstede during a weekend visit with my family.
This is my bicycle, Herman. He was a necessity in Amsterdam.
Rachel patiently waiting for our boat to get fixed up for our ride through the canals of Amsterdam.
Cars and cyclists waiting as a lift bridge allows boats to pass by.
The Three Sister's Pub in Groningen.
Greece is a beautiful country. It is currently in a debt-crisis, and therefore mostly everything is cheap. We stayed in downtown Athens for two weeks and ventured south to the Temple of Poseidon and to Corinth on weekends. Adam King, from my home-town Brantford, came to teach us. We learned about marketing, made a magazine, further developed our website, and made a promo-video for Amsterdam. Every student also developed relationships with people and wrote a photo-story on that person.
The debt crisis in Greece has left the country and it’s people in a hopeless situation. We met with closed-doors and boarded up windows where what used to be a thriving local business. People live on the streets everywhere you turn not to mention most of the downtown streets were used as the public toilet. Our bed and breakfast was on the corner where the prostitutes ran their business. The days were hot, and the nights were cozy warm, but there was this lingering sense of uneasiness in the air.
The population of homeless people astounded me. I felt sympathy for those living on the streets who could have been forced there through financial difficulties. I wondered what it would be like to go from the top of the heap to sleeping on the street. So, one night, we decided to experience it for ourselves. We went out late at night armed with only one thing in our pockets, and vowed not to return to our residence until 8am. We found a park, and some benches. When the temperature took an unexpected drop, the item in my pocket turned out to be very useful - a pair of socks. We tried to find card-board or plastic or an assortment of items to keep us warm. I laughed at the predicament we were in when, while rooting through trash at a restaurant, we found a jackpot... there was a pre-loaded grocery cart with a bunch of warm looking card board and other fun things. Then as we tried to free some of the cardboard from it’s bonds the thought occurred that we might be looting some other poor guys cart, and laughed as we walked away defeated. Long story short, sleep was sparse that night and I woke up to a dog licking my face. To those homeless people who experience this night after night, I have a new respect for you.
Amsterdam was a new city altogether. I have never seen a city so clean and put-together. Every piece of land and space is used to it’s maximum potential, but not in a squishy way. I would describe it using the Dutch word “hazelleg” meaning cozy, quaint, comfortable (or something like that). The canals weave their way through the city and flowers bloom in the window boxes. Everyone rides bicycles, rain or shine. In Amsterdam we lived a two minute walk from Central Station and a one minute walk from the largest red light district. It was the perfect spot to work on our documentary, “Behind the Curtain”.
As new “video-producers” this documentary on Amsterdam’s notorious Red Light District was a large under-taking. We met with people who shed some light on what really goes on ‘behind the curtain’ in this seemingly free-choice and tolerant lifestyle. Day after day while editing the video, I heard the stories of a trafficking victim and an ex-pimp describing the horrors of how deceiving the freedom of legalized prostitution can be. My heart broke for the girls standing behind the windows. Personally, for me, this video was tough. The more I thought about it, the bigger the problem got with no resolve or solution in sight. At one point I caught myself asking, “What is the point of making this documentary? Will it even change anything? How can a documentary help the girls who are trapped in the sex industry?”
Adam King wrote me some encouragement about the subject. He compared our documentary to being one brick in an entire wall of change. It’s not up to us to build the entire wall in one shot — that view would leave anyone defeated. Instead, the wall is built one brick at a time, and each little bit counts.
