This afternoon I went to the glorious Amsterdam central library. It is a beautiful beautiful building. From the large floor to ceiling windows, all of Amsterdam unfolds. Each floor has tons of space to sit and read, to browse. I love just being there, even if I'm there to pay fines. (Who am I kidding. Despite my best intentions I took out some more books. Based on some advice from an understanding friend, I figure my fines are like charitable donations. It makes me feel better.)

Anyway. While I was waiting to check out my books at the super-duper-whippy-dippy-auto-book-checker-outer machine, the elderly thin man that had been just before me in line decided to engage me in some conversation.

It pretty much went like this (loosely translated from Dutch):

"Things aren't the way they were," he says.

I nod, thinking that this is generic enough of a truth that nodding is appropriate at all times.

"There was a time that people spoke to each other. That you waited in line and talked with real people. This..." he gestures to the machine that has just taken out our books, "this is capitalism."

I nod some more. The white gummies have emerged on his lips. (The truth is, that whenever I bring back books late to the library I'm really grateful that I don't have to face real people. I always assume that they will be absolutely furious with me for bringing my books in late.)

"It's American culture you know," he continues. "In my day, the Netherlands was built on good socialist principles, where people mattered, not things, not speed. Now, it's all American capitalism. It's separated people. People now, they just want more faster. Dutch culture is... It's the foreigners," he waves his hand in the air as if trying to capture something. He now has full-fledged gumminess. More than I have ever seen. I long to give him a glass of water. I'm also terrified that he will discover that I'm not Dutch.

He's talking pretty quickly, but from what I understand, he blames a lot on capitalism. He reiterates his arguments, the blame, I nod somewhat dumbly, since I don't want to give myself away with my accent. I smile and indicate (by gesturing to the escalator) that I am about to leave.

He reaches out and touches my arm and says, "You, you are a nice Dutch girl. You listen to people. I am here often. I hope that I see you again soon."

I smile and wave, walking towards the escalator. I feel sad. He's lonely and doesn't like how things have changed. He feels anonymous and ignored. This isn't really about capitalism, Americans or foreigners regardless of their possible/debatable contribution to his unhappiness. This is about him alone with little chance to actually talk to anyone. I may not be Dutch, but I understand what he mourning. I wish my Dutch was more fluent. I would engage him in real conversation. Maybe challenge his blanket beliefs despite my fear of the froth.

***

(Tourist tip: internet access is free at the library and it is a gorgeous library. There is also a good La Place restaurant on the top floor with great views of Amsterdam. Mysteriously, no one checks if you bring books up there, so you are free to grab a book, go upstairs, grab some lunch & wine and sit on the terrace. Not a bad deal at all.)

Labels: alone, blame capitalism