Between Amsterdam, Berlin & La Gomera

My beloved Sabine has landed in Amsterdam, after traveling the globe for seven weeks. Among other things, we get to talk about A Good Place To Die. She's interested in my take on La Gomera, and somewhat surprised I talk about the island with enthusiasm. I like the island, its nature, the people, their food and the climate. From this blog however, she had concluded that I didn't like it too much as a possible place to live & semi-retire.

Sabine's conclusion is only partly correct. Sure, I don't think the island offers enough inspiration if I would live there by myself, as a recluse. Sharing a house with friends and/or lovers would be another matter. Together, we look at ads for houses for sale. Some of them look very nice. But the nice ones also tend to be expensive - maybe too expensive.

So it might be a good idea to combine the two: share the costs and the joys of living with more people. Interesting proposition.

In other words, La Gomera may merit a second visit, with more focus on looking for property. And maybe get around on a motorbike. So La Gomera is to be revisited...

But first, we're off to Berlin now. Keep you posted.

Not Home in Amsterdam

The sun is shining, spring is here, Amsterdam is a fine place to be. That's what I wrote last week. I still feel that way, but there are also aspects to this city (and this country) that I find harder to appreciate. That's today's topic.

Until recently, I used to be proud of my country. We enjoyed one of the most humane social security systems in the world. Our government between 1995 and 2002 was almost enlightened. Because of his integrity, his vision and his wisdom, the dutch prime minister of those days, Wim Kok, was a hero of mine. So was the mayor of Amsterdam, Job Cohen.

Since 2001, something has shifted. In 2001, there was the shock of September 11. That gruesome attack brought an end to optimism about the future of our world. In 2002 and 2004, we had two political murders in this country - a first since more than 100 years. Both victims of these homicides were right wing populists. One was a clown, the other one a pig. These murders had a severe impact on our society. Conservative right wing politicians took over the center of the political spectrum. Before 2001, fascist politicians found no solid base in this country. Now, racism and bigotry have become fashionable.

These days, racism and minority bashing have become acceptable. This development is manifesting in many different ways. The political debate has become harsher, more aggressive and more vulgar. There are pleas to change our judicial system, supplement it with trial by jury, elected judges and minimum sentencing. Minorities are insulted and accused, Islam as a religion is criminalized. Jews are molested for wearing a keppel, moslim women for wearing scarfs. A sharp political debate is conducted with a blatant disregard for facts, without compassion or respect. Criminals, partygoers and their lawyers are made into heroes. Judges, opposing politicians and the royal family are the new villains. Care for the weak, the environment or less fortunate people in developing countries is no longer 'our' priority. We come first. And the fascists are almost a leading political party.

On a certain level, I can see that this development is not a problem. It's simply the pendulum swinging back. When things get too complicated, if more steps are taken than the simpleminded are capable of understanding, they hit the brakes. In the movement towards true democracy, everyone is getting involved, not just the talented, the smart and the educated. This is a positive movement, not a negative one. And it's all a manifestation of Light, or Love at Work - like everything else in this miraculous Universe.

On the other level, the daily life level, it bothers me. It bothers me a lot. It makes me feel ill at ease in this country, even in Amsterdam, this beloved magical city of ours. Perhaps this unease has something to do with my age. I'm 59 this year. May be I'm falling out of synch with the times. Maybe I'm making too much of this perceived rule of the stupid and the ignorant. But yes, this is one of the reasons for detaching myself a little. And yes, I see the same signs in other countries, too. And yes: this is still a wonderfully free and light and wonderful country. With more civil rights than any other place on the planet.

More on this topic I will write in the Book. I have more, and more compelling, reasons to travel and search elsewhere for A Good Place To Die. I will write about these in the next episodes... Maybe from Berlin, my next destination.


Thank you followers, you honor me...!

Home in Amsterdam

Amsterdam is happy. Spring is in town. Everybody is outside, smiling. Flowers everywhere, daffodils, crocuses. The air is warming up, but it is still crisp, no sweat. The Vondelpark has filled its lawns with people, music, soccer, dogs. No bbq's yet, they'll come later.

On days like this, Amsterdam is my town, my home, my ground. As far as towns go, it's a great place. To live, to love, to die.

I'm thinking about my next trip. Where to & when shall I travel. Beginning of April, I'll go to Berlin for a few days. No hills there, no mountains either. Berlin is good place to visit, not sure about living & dying there, though. If the weather will hold, I might go by bike - take the 1200 GS, sail there in a few hours. Or drive by car & ride the bright red 650 GS, the bike I co-own with my brother Max.

On the agenda remain Nepal and Dharamsala. No lack of hills or mountains there. Plenty of inspiration, too. Olympia, Washington, is another option. My friend David is turning 60 in May, I would love to visit him and his wife Alley. Does anybody have suggestions? I hear the US is inviting copywriters to apply for a greencard. Also, there is a public and government drive for the financial sector to become more transparent. Guess what: that's our area of expertise..!

But today, it's Spring in Amsterdam. And who wants to move out of Amsterdam on a Spring day?!

An Inspiring Day With The Guys

Today is men's group. A big word for five guys who meet maybe three times a year. We meditate, we share what's happening in our lives, we have dinner together. We have been meeting for seven years now. Our common denominator: the vision we share, Zijnsoriëntatie - 'To Be inspired'. A school founded in Holland by Hans Knibbe around 1989. Each of us attended schooling in meditation, djokchen (Tibetan buddhism) and the art of living an inspired life.

This time, we meet at my place in Amsterdam. Douwe has made a program for the day, I take care of catering - pumpkin soup and Bejing Duck. I usually look forward to these meetings with some reluctance. But when the guys are there, I really like our exchange. Our talks are not meek; they have sharpness and sparks fly. After Douwe, Stef, Harry and Walter are gone, I miss them. They are fine men and there is a lot of space in our meetings. To have friends like this... what a treasure!

Of course, we talk about A Good Place To Live & Die. The modified title - to include the Living - does not meet with approval. They think 'A Good Place To Die' has more bite. None of the guys shares my desire to grow old in a new place. Hmmm, interesting. They all want to read the blog - and they promise to become followers. Or did I just insist that they do so? Will see...

The Journey, Home?

On the plane back to Amsterdam, I am thinking about Louk's comment. As I told him of my quest, he said: "But you know that there is nothing out there; the only home you'll ever find is inside. Home is in your heart, man." My first reaction was: "He's right, what the hell am I doing? Home is where all great quests end - including the ones that inspire me the most. Like Siddharta's and the Alchemist's... They travel the world, only to find peace at home." So yes, I know that any quest is futile...

Or is it, really? Would the heroes of all great stories have attained enlightenment without ever leaving home? Was their yearning to seek & discover a mistake, a fluke? Or was the journey an integral part of their path into the Light? The path is the goal, right? Follow your heart, right? And the heart is full of desire - is it not? 

Yes it is. So for now, this reluctant hero continues his quest. During my journey, I will elaborate a little on what moves me, what makes me move. I'm writing for my own entertainment and education, if for nothing else... And not only while I'll be traveling, but also in this temporary homestead, Amsterdam ;-))

And another thing. I changed the title of this story from 'A Good Place to Die' to 'A Good Place To Live & Die'. The reference to Little Big Man's Indian saying escapes most readers. They think my original title was too gloomy: "You are not about to kick the bucket, are you?" No, I'm not. I intend to live for many more years - as long as I manage to stay healthy and lucid. That is why I think it's important to find a place that fits this day and my age.

This blog now has three followers: Fleur, Kamiel and Maaike. Maaike, you inspire me to continue writing, as you blogged for years about a horticultural project in Johannesburg.

Hiking & Scouting on La Gomera

I asked our hiking guide Melanie about La Gomera. It turns out to be an interesting island. It’s the only Canary Island with no seismic activity since 20 Million years. After WWII, La Gomera had 30,000 inhabitants. Around 2000, only 17,000 souls remained. Almost half the population had emigrated, mostly to the America’s or to mainland Spain. Most of the terraced agricultural fields have been abandoned, to be overgrown by brushes. Since then, some 5,000 new inhabitants have arrived. Mostly North-West Europeans who are retiring to nature and quietude. In addition, there is a community of mostly older German hippies who like chilling out at Valle Gran Rey – the place to avoid if at all possible.

More interesting, because more authentic, are the capital San Sebastián, remote Hermiguas – with a deserted beach – and rural & cozy Valle Hermoso. We visited these places on our three day trekking tour over the mountain ridges of La Gomera. Each day we have covered about 15 kms in often steep, rugged and stunning terrain. On this trip, did we pass places or locations that could qualify as A Good Place To Die (AGPTD)? Well, some villages are really pretty, the infrastructure is good – San Sebastián has a hospital, the roads are ideal for motorbikes – and the climate is great. To rent a simple apartment cost about EUR 400 a month. Meals and drinks at restaurants and bars are relatively cheap  (EUR 0.80 for an espresso, 6.00 for a pizza). And there are some interesting people living (part-time) on the island. Like Hans Knibbe, my teacher.

Still, I feel the island does not have enough inspiration to offer to live there by myself. Things could be different if I lived there with a group of people, or if I shared a household with a loved one. Flights to and from Tenerife are relatively abundant and cheap, especially if booked well in advance. Tenerife has about 800,000 inhabitants and interesting landscapes (like the 3,700 m high volcano). It also has a good hospital and lots of big outlets, garages, dealerships and such. Tenerife is touristy as hell, though.

A Place To Die – Why

This is my first day on La Gomera. Yesterday, I arrived here with Louk, after a journey by plane and trimaran speedferry. While waiting for the ferry in Tenerife harbor, we had supper in Maria’s place. Maria is a runner for one of the waterfront restaurants. She’s from Montevideo, in her thirties and quite charming. When I comment that she obviously likes her job, she laughs and says: “See that small restaurant over there? That’s my dream. The present owners are not doing a good job; their focus is on the bigger restaurant next door, which they also own. Me, I would give that small place all my attention, and make it a success. It’s on a great spot. It’s the ideal place for me.” Another person with a dream about a place, but she’s has her goal in sight…

Today we hiked. At first I was afraid that I couldn’t keep up with two experienced hikers, but that turned out fine. We hiked for about four hours, with short breaks. Ate our bread and cheese and sausage, drank our water. And we chatted. About my quest for A Place to Die - among other things. Melanie’s first reaction to my work title was typical of many first reactions: “Are you planning to die soon, why not calling it a place to grow old?” Good question. I like to reference to A good Day To Die – something a wise old Indian says in ‘Little Big Man’. No, I don’t want to die soon, maybe not for another 30 years if I have my father’s genes. Yes, I’m looking for a place to grow old in, or be old in. A place that I can love, where I will really feel at home – and I do not know that place yet. The dying aspect is interesting, I feel about death a certain way, have some ideas about it I would like to share. Things like that make this blog and this book interesting.

What else? I see this project as an enterprise.  I am inviting my readers – three so far, I believe – to share their ideas and their dreams. What does your dream place look like? Have you ever seen a place that looks like my description of A Good Place to Die? Would you like to join me and travel together to go find my dream house - or yours? Do you have any idea where to look, or where to go and start looking?

Taking Off on My Journey

I know exactly what the house looks like where I want to grow old and die. This is how I imagine it. I am meditating or reading in a comfortable chair on a porch. When I look up, I see green hills flowing. At a distance, mountains. My woman is busy in the house, there may be other people living with us. That I don't know yet.

What I have known for years is what my house looks like. Occasionally, I tell people, adding that I have not found it yet. I haven't really searched for it yet. I kinda hoped that I would stumble upon it by accident. This idea of mine has changed during this past month. I start to feel some urgency; it is time to start an active search. It is time to start my Journey.

Tomorrow, I am taking off. I'll be leaving for the Canary Island of La Gomera for a hike with my friend Louk. We will visit the island where my teacher Hans Knibbe is building his house to grow old. Hans is only two years my senior. I'm 58, he's 60 years old. 

Ik weet precies hoe het huis eruit ziet waarin ik oud wil worden. Ik stel het me zo voor: ik zit te lezen of te mediteren. Als ik opkijk, zie ik een heuvellandschap. In de verte zijn de bergen. Ik zit in een makkelijke stoel, op een soort veranda, een porch. In het huis achter mij rommelt mijn vrouw met pannen. Het kan zijn dat er meer mensen wonen in ons huis. Dat weet ik nog niet.

Wel weet ik al jaren hoe mijn huis eruit ziet. Af en toe vertel ik dit aan mensen. En ik zeg erbij dat ik het nog niet heb gevonden. Ik heb er ook nog nooit naar gezocht. Ik hoopte dat ik er min of meer toevallig tegen aan zou lopen. De laatste maanden is in die houding iets veranderd. Iets in mij wordt urgent. Het wordt tijd om actief te gaan zoeken. Het wordt tijd om op reis te gaan.

Deze reis begint morgen. Dan vertrek ik naar La Gomera voor een wandeltocht. Samen met mijn vriend Louk bezoek ik het eiland waar mijn leraar een huis bouwt om oud in te worden. Hans Knibbe heet hij, en hij is maar een paar jaar ouder dan ik. Hij is 60, ik ben 58.