XXX/Darkness

So what I’m about to say really requires two posts, if not more. I’ve had quite the whirlwind of travel recently…in the last three weeks, I’ve been to Amsterdam, Vienna, Budapest, Krakow, and Prague. While I enjoyed the baths in Budapest and seeing Freud’s house (!) in Vienna, two places will stick with me for the rest of my life, without a doubt. Amsterdam and Auschwitz. Random story begin…now: The colors in Amsterdam are dark and beautiful. The ships with their yellow stripe and black exterior against the dark water gives the place a distinctly European feel (just like in the Sigur Rós documentary, Heima, which I still have not seen). The bikers are joyful and the sound of their bells in the distance unceasingly makes life just that much happier. One guy almost ran into me going very slowly and still used his horn. It sounded like a duck, so I laughed at him. All I could think of was my friend Alex, who, as a child, used to point to items on the dinner table when he wanted them. His mom would kindly scold him: “Alex, use your words, honey.” Maybe you have to know Alex and Mrs. Cool for this to be funny, but it still gets me every time I think of it.

XXX:
Everybody asks me if I was able to get to the Red Light District. (I did.) The name makes it sound like some sort of hell where prostitutes attack from all directions and drugs fall from the sky. The gate to enter is guarded by none other than Satan himself, with the tail and horns and all.

NO! It’s totally not like this. Many people call Amsterdam the “Venice of the north,” mostly due to it’s 1,500+ bridges and surrounding canals. Bikes are everywhere (the #1 form of transportation). The whole scene is surreal and beautiful in a way that I’ve never seen beauty before--even the red light district.

The red light district wasn’t as bad at night as during the day. By this, I only mean that it hit me harder during the day. At night, the prostitutes sit in their windows and lure customers in with their eye contact and dance or strip or rub themselves loudly against the window. Welcome to the world.
Daytime in the RLD is enough to make one sick. I, for one, was floored. I’m sure the people with me were as well. If you can, try to imagine walking down the street in the middle of the day (canals, bridges, bikes, and cobblestone all around). Little kids walk with their parents. The smell of fresh pastries is in the air. Some of them are special pastries. You look to the right and she wants you. She’s wearing a tiny amount of clothes and she pulls on them like she’s dying to get you in bed. She pulls on her bra to expose and put into motion her two picture-perfect breasts that “real” people never have. Her body is the image that most girls want and most guys would kill for. Her eyes are stunning, though bloodshot from all the coke or mj she’s been using to keep her body moving. Like I said, she wants you. It’s the middle of the afternoon and for 50 euros, you can have her get on her knees. For 100, you can spend an hour and a half with her and she is yours--all of her. I wonder what the little kids think when they walk by. I wonder what the girls think when they look out from their windows and see the kids. I wonder what the hell the parents are thinking for bringing their kids here! I wonder what the girls are thinking by being there. Honestly, it’s a bearable sight until you see a man dive into a place and the curtains close, deeper in the room. The man’s two friends have just come out of two different windows. “Their girls” can now be seen redoing their makeup and lipstick as the two guys zip up their pants outside.

So we decide to wait to see the third guy leave. Ten minutes later, he opens the curtain and exits. “His girl” redoes her makeup, watches the men walk away, and immediately looks for the next customer, placing herself in only the most suggestive positions that might catch the eye. Welcome to the world.

Darkness [Auschwitz].
They say a picture is worth 1,000 words. In this case, 50 pictures = 50,000 words. A movie might be worth 1,000,000 words. But real life–a real movie, a scrolling piece of art—can not be explained. We have heard of horrible things. We have seen movies about them. But it is only once we have walked in the footsteps of the victims that we can begin to feel the weight of the world on our very own shoulders.
We stand outside in the snow where they once stood, inadequately dressed. Little drops of wonder drip from the sky and melt as they fall into hell. Our numbered days are spent in this death factory. Here, you will not find grace. You will not find friendship. You will not find civilization, for who would call this “civilized?” You look around for an Almighty G-d, but you do not see Him anywhere except in the past, through the eyes of your starving friends. They can’t find Him either. Some have and some still believe in hope and goodness. Within weeks, their hope will be carried through a chimney and scattered across the penetrated earth. Nothing is beautiful.
As my friend Ben said (in response to an African slum), this is an “ocean of shit.” Even these three little words cannot possibly achieve much. They seem cheap and hollow when compared to the reality of things. Go and see. Enter. Walk in the footsteps of your distant mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and you will experience darkness.

-griff