Idiåterna, based on the swedish word idioterna (the idiots), is the name of our group. Our family these four days.
Last night we arrived in Amsterdam. We drove around for three hours looking for somewhere to park the van. We found our selves driving in narrow alleys among open-air cafés, weaving around people and suddenly we were stuck in dead end. Turning the van around with bikers not caring about us but going straight behind us, the quayside threatening to throw us into the water if we came too close and the working platform infront of us looking like it would attack us if we as much as touched it. But Umud managed to turn us around and get us onto the road again.
We found another bus parked beside the water, and we made a quick decision to park behind it. The place turned out to be a great people-meeting-people place. But they weren’t as happy to meet strangers as I wanted them to be. Jiaxin found some chinese people to talk to though, Umud and Farid got directions to a camping from a dutch guy and I walked around and recorded everyone.
It was past one am before we finally entered the city by feet. The first three campings we found were full and when we arrived in the fourth one they were already closed. So we parked the van on a parking lot outside of it. Our neighbours were french, and I actually managed to speak a little french to them. Not a lot, but you can get a long way into someone’s heart by saying “Hello, I speak french no, my name is Monica.” As answer I got “Oh no, you speak very good french.” Merci indeed, it was a big lie but it still made me a little happier (was it really possible to get more happy?) than before.
We went into town by taxi and walked around the city center, red light district and we took two bike taxis (what are they really called?) to the only coffee shop that was open until three am. It was then twenty to three. Jiaxin and I got croissants from a french café and belgian waffles. When we saw the sign saying “french croissants” we screamed and bounced out of happiness and ran across the road to get some. We were a little disappointed when we found out they only had croissants with cheese, we wanted plain ones. But rather cheese croissants than none.
Andreas, one of Idiåterna, and I stayed up until past five am, walked in the forest around the camping ground and talked. How is it possible to meet someone at a halting-place in Denmark while hitchhiking that is so much like oneself? It’s like he was my older brother. We found a bench, and I laid down on it and slept for a few minutes just to be able to say that I’ve slept on a bench in Amsterdam. How cool isn’t that? Andreas and I found a connection somehow and sometimes it is hard not to believe in fate. If the woman hadn’t decided to give us a ride to the last exit before the bridge the danish couple wouldn’t have picked us up and driven us to the halting-place. If the german guys hadn’t talked to the people in that white van, then we would never have found out that there were space for two more people in there. Life is strange and unpredictable.