20 years ago today - Day 102

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Thursday, June 13th - Amsterdam

I am not too eager to get up when I wake at 8:30, having less than sleep hours last night. I am still sore from my 150 km ride into town yesterday too. By 9:10, however, I have dragged myself up and out the door to the post office. How wonderful it is not to have to wait for Mike or to have to try to gage his mood. I will have to reconnect with him today and I am not looking forward to it. Perhaps we could still manage traveling together if we only meet up here and there, but that sounds a lot like not traveling together. We cannot go on the way we have been going, or at least I cannot tolerate his selfish antics anymore. I doubt he can change his ways. I am not sure what I will say to him when we meet and that is hanging over me like a cloud.

There are two letters waiting for me at Poste Restante, one from my mother and the other from Seph. Disappointingly, there is still no letter from my more recent boyfriend Mark. I resign myself to the obvious fact that our friendship is now in the past tense. I am not feeling the same despair that I felt when there was no letter from him in Paris. I will save time now that I no longer need to write to him.
There is a third letter from Marc Duret, my expected host here in Amsterdam.

I have to hurry back to the hostel, which has an inconvenient check-out time of 10am, only four hours after their all-night bar closes. I pack up, move my bags into their storage room and order their over-priced breakfast, which I eat while I read my letters. Mom has sent me a $150 money order for my birthday and her letter fills me in on all the family news. Seph's has news of exciting new developments in his acting career. Marc has sent me his home and work phone numbers and a photocopy of a picture of himself. He is young and beautiful.

I leave a note for Mike at Poste Restante, telling him I'll meet him at the post office at 1:30, or failing that at 5pm. Coming back from the post office, I meet Don and Vern, an Australian couple I met at one of the bars last night. They are friendly and engaging. How friendly and 'engaging' they are, and how friendly and engaging I want to be, I am not sure yet, but I meet them again for lunch at a local restaurant. After our chat, they accompany me to the post office at 1:30. Mike is not waiting for me.

I do manage to reach Mark Duret by phone while I'm there. He suggests I meet him at a gay coffee shop on Regulierdwarstaat in an hour. Don and Vern stroll over with me, so we can visit a flower market on the way. We get to the coffee shop a bit early. We order yogurt shakes and wait for Marc. And wait and wait. I eventually ask the waiter and yes, he is here. I did not recognize him wearing a baseball cap, but once the waiter sends him over to us I see the same open eyes and natural beauty that are in his photo. I try my best not to drool over him.

Don and Vern bid adieu for now, with hopes that they'll meet me later in the bar called Jacques. Marc leads me back to his place. He tells me his boyfriend's name is Fio. He shows me a picture of Fio, a dancer with an extravagant mop of blond curls. Their relationship is open. Marc is 23 and Fio is 31. They don't live together because they are both independent. Marc tells me their relationship was purely sexual at first but over two years they have grown much closer and have become best friends as well lovers.

This relaxed approach seems to suit Marc well. He has worked in the café "Downtown" where we met, which has mostly a gay clientele, but he is neither a peacock nor a social butterfly. He is well-known in the gay community here, but doesn't care for all the attention he gets for his good looks.

Marc makes it clear he comes and goes as he pleases and expects the same of me. He is working tonight and Fio will be going to some theatre event. Afterwards, they will spend the night at Fio's place so I am definitely on my own.

I return to the post office at 5, but Mike isn't there to meet me. I am relieved. I leave another note about connecting with me tomorrow. On the way I get lost and end up in the red light district. Apparently, just following a canal around is not the best way to get from Point A to Point B in this city. I have no interest in entertaining the women flaunting their wares in the doorways and windows. I manage to find the tourist information office again and pick up a map and two walking tours. I return to my hostel to pick up my bike, and hang around to share a couple beers with a couple of the guys I meet there before returning to Marc's.

I expected to be alone until it is time to go out for the evening, but I am surprised by Fio's sudden appearance. He carries himself with grace and confidence and, like Marc, is full of sex appeal. He shows his interest by asking several questions, one of them being "How has your trip been so far?" When my answer goes onto a third sentence he interrupts me with a wink, saying "I think you have a lot to say, but I must go." He disappears with Dutch abruptness out the door without another word. I feel slighted, as though his interest was insincere, but won't hang onto this.

For dinner, I go to Sukabomi, an Indonesian restaurant recommended by the hostel manager, to try their rice table. From there, since it is already 10:30, I go to a neighbourhood bar named April. I meet a deaf fellow named Huit, who smiles at me invitingly. He is looking for a distraction from a ditsy blond American who is fawning over him, rubbing his inner thigh in a very possessive manner, even though they have just met. It's a lesson in different sign languages for each of us. I move on as the American is not very happy with my presence, and the drama would not be worth it.

I am now in a bar called Havana, chatting with a friendly bar tender. He introduces me to Gersher, who is chatting with another very tall Dutch man named Paul. I have never been in a bar with so many very tall men. My neck has a kink in it. Paul has no interest in me, and Dutch men seem to feel no obligation to chat politely if they are not interested.

Gerber invites me to another bar named "Exit". Gerber has not told me his name so I ask him. He says, ‘Forget my name’ and I reply, ‘I will later, but tell me it for now.’ That made Paul roar with laughter, the first time he even notices me I think. But their interest in me wanes completely over the next half hour so I explore the bar. There is a back room on the third floor, with action just starting. Two men start kissing me, and they are marvelous kissers. I hear zippers and shirts opening around me in the blackened room. Small groups mingled and groped. Partners change and move on. Eventually one of them invites me home.

The man I leave with is Johannes, a blond, 32, red glasses, firm body, semi-meaty, semi-attractive. I ride precariously on the back of his bicycle, sitting side saddle, as he takes me home. We share a coffee at his place and he tells me about himself. He is a successful composer and a jazz guitarist, making a full time living from his compositions. He had an eight-year common-law relationship with a woman and has a five year old daughter to show for it. He says he likes me, and that he prefers skinny builds like mine. He knows the McGarrigle Sisters and we chat about common music interests. By the time we make it to bed I feel I have made much more than a casual connection.


PHOTO 1: Centraal Station
PHOTO 2: the family that cycles together...
PHOTO 3: canal near Marc Duret's place