Leith (in Dutch)

Last week, on yet another one of France's much-appreciated two week random vacations, I packed my bags and headed off to Amsterdam to meet up with my sister and other friends for a week of what the Dutch like to call tolerantie (tolerance).  Basically, for the Dutch there are three regels (rules) to tolerating something even though it's technically verboden (forbidden).  These three rules are as follows:

1.  Whatever is being tolerated should also be making the Dutch government a lot of money.


2.  Whatever is being tolerated should do no harm.


3.  When engaging in an activity that is technically illegal though tolerated, for God's sake, be discreet.


Most important of these three rules, of course, is the first.  Money.  This first rule is why the world's oldest profession, prostitutie (prostitution), is a major building block of Amsterdam society.  This first rule is why Katholieken (Catholics) could line up by the hundreds on their way into "secret" Catholic churches long after Catholocism had been banned.  This first rule is why "koffie winkel" ("coffee shops") somehow mysteriously wreak of skunky grass when you pass by them and also serve "space brownies" made with "green butter" and "weed".  This first rule is also why bicyclists who trample overpedestrians still get entire lanes of the road to themselves and pile fietsen (bikes) one on top of the other in the middle of the straat (street) (by the way, trampling over tourists in Amsterdam isn't considered harmful because hunting down tourists is also a perfectly legal national sport).


Rushing through this quaint European city that's practically leaning on it's side due to rotting foundations from its kanaal (canal) system, I had little time to really get to know the Dutch, but what I did get to know I fell in love with.  After all, how can you not love a country that devotes itself to windmills, clogs, and overweight hookers?

In fact, by the end of the trip I myself was on a bike, effortlessly gliding through city streets (with a look of sheer terror on my face...it had been five years since I'd been on a bike), hopelessly trying to be mistaken for a native Dutchwoman.  Unfortunately, I'm at least five inches too short to fit in with these people who gorge themselves on dairy, and my Yankee accent stands out like a cat in heat when spoken around a language that sounds like some strange mix of German and lyrical gibberish.  I can only hope that future budgeting allows for multiple visits back so I can work on fine-tuning these Dutch traits.  Maybe in a few years I'll be squashing over tourists on my vintage bicycle with the rest of the Netherlands.

By the way, Holland is a state (divided into North Holland and South Holland) of which Amsterdam is a part.  If you live in Holland you, ipso facto, live in the Netherlands, but you don't necessarily live in Holland just because you live in the Netherlands, and just because you're visiting the Netherlands doesn't mean you're going to visit Holland.  That would be like saying you're Californian even if you've lived your entire life in New York, just because California is part of the United States.  I learned that that little fact this week.  That's right: I'm almost 25 years-old and still learning basic geography.  Problem?