the journey, not the destination

This afternoon I had a meeting in Amsterdam with Marieke Hegeman who is doing a research project on online games and seniors. It was a nice break to the day, as we met up in a cosy yet trendy cafe downtown. The conversation was informal and inspiring, and although I felt very tired on my arrival I left in high spirits.

As I was waiting for the tram, consuming the Amsterdam pulse whilst listening to some old school club music, I travelled back...same space, different time. These were streets I knew all so well. From the first impressions of Amsterdam some 14 years ago, on my first solo trip to some years later, living that life I had only dreamed of when I was younger. I’m not talking of a glamorous and pretentious life. On the contrary. It was the odd, the unusual, the life of a misfit. I always believed it’s the flaws that make us all the more beautiful. It’s the cracks in the facades, the peeling paint, the broken windows and the missing tiles that tells the story. A story of love, neglect, and despair. Of fortunes gained and then lost. It speaks of visions and intentions, only to be failed by providence and fate.

That was the life that attracted me to Amsterdam. Then I wanted to be consumed by the raw energy that the city transmitted. Beyond the picturesque streets, and lit up canals. My own travel through that life, always on border, like the voyeur that never participates, lasted some year and a half. And then as much as I had been seeking the strange and degenerated I longed for the normal and safe.

Do I miss it? No, not really. But there are times, when my mind drifts to those Amsterdam nights, its seedy clubs and unexpected encounters with strangers of hidden lives and intentions. They say it’s not the destination but the journey that matters. I’m grateful for the journey having found me.






Scenes of Amsterdam



Meeting with Marieke