"Mike, your playlist is so sad." Unlike mine, Anna's eyes were dry. Her face bore a concerned half-smile as I blubbered away. "It's going to be fine. We'll see each other again. But if you only listen to sad songs, of course, you'll be upset."
I knew she was right, but I couldn't hold back those little droplets of fear and attachment. It had only been one week, but what a magical week it was. Two hearts reunited. A bond reformed. A flame rekindled. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving, but it was time.
Anna was studying a lot. She had her flat and her life. I, on the other hand, was a full-time wanderer. A professional in the art of having no profession. A dream for a young lass travelling through Australia for a year. A symbol of instability and uncertainty for that same lass with purpose and an agenda. A piece of a puzzle from the past that didn't fit in the present.
Besides, my pool of squandered funds was running dry. Also, due to Schengen rules, I could only stay on the European continent for ninety days. Meanwhile, my Working Holiday Visa for the UK still had plenty of time, and my return ticket was still valid. It was the right thing to do, and we both knew it. The honeymoon was over.
Before working at the Belvedere Arms in Berkshire, I lived in Glasgow. I'll get back to that another time, but while I was there, I had a part-time bartending job at the Walkabout. This tacky, Aussie-themed chain spanned the UK, so once you worked at one, it was easy to get hired on at another. I'd lined up a position in Liverpool and was headed there to work for a few months. Why Liverpool? I had friends there and always enjoyed my time visiting them. We'll get into that eventually, as well.
After an overly emotional farewell from my end, I found myself on a train, retracing my steps backwards from one week prior. Staring at the window, my mind began to race. The black of night left nothing to be seen except a reflection. A twenty-eight-year-old drifter with a backpack, headphones and puffy eyes stared back at me.
Something didn't feel right. Where was the romance in this? Not only regarding Anna but also in fleeing adventure for safety. This wasn't why I travelled. Besides, going to work at a sports bar in a city known for football violence wasn't overly appealing. Trading in beautiful women, tree-lined, cobbled bike lanes, and a foreign language for metal detectors, plastic beer bottles and aggressive sporting chants seemed more like a prison sentence than an opportunity.
I turned up the volume on my iPod. Sad music slithered its way down my ear canals towards my heart, turning my thumping, life-giving organ into a dance floor and leading my heartstrings in a captivating waltz of nostalgia and emotion. Two lovers appeared, turning and moving in a long embrace, dancing their way around a vast expanse of infatuation.
All of a sudden, the thumping floor of my beating heart hardened and began to crack. Turning grey, the cracks became the outlines of bricks, and the lovers found themselves on a cobbled road, their rhythmic steps now a casual stride. They held hands and laughed. I recognised them as they made their way through the side streets of Amsterdam. It was Anna and I reliving the previous week as I watched from a distance and listened.
"Have you ever noticed that when you type my name, it comes up as Bomb?" Anna was cracking up, staring at her phone. This was when most people knew someone with a smartphone but couldn't conceive of spending that kind of money on one themselves. Kind of like Teslas today. She showed me how her old Nokia would use predictive text to suggest Bomb instead of Anna when she typed her name. We laughed hysterically as the buildings lining the street moved closer until suddenly, we were inside somewhere.
There was a heavy door in front of us. We pushed it open and stepped out of the Dampkring, a coffee shop famous for appearing in the film Ocean's Thirteen. Sitting by a canal, feet dangling over the edge, we shared a hash joint before going to a movie.
Sitting beside a woman in a theatre was so foreign to me. I hadn't been on anything resembling a date for more than a decade, so the unfamiliarity of something so common was pretty exciting.
Unlike countries such as Spain and Germany, which dub English films into their languages and designate local stars as the voices of specific entertainers, the Dutch release them in English with subtitles, which is part of the reason why English is so prolific in their society.
We watched 'I Love You, Man' because a comedy was perfect for how high we were. After a funny line, I'd start laughing, then the rest of the audience would join in a few seconds later. At first, paranoia from the hash had me worried that they were laughing at me, but I quickly realised the jokes were just registering with me much faster since they were in my language. I couldn't hold back if I wanted to. I was too high, and everything was too funny. So, for the duration of the film, I laughed first, and everyone else followed. This made me laugh even harder, and Anna too. We'd laugh, then look at each other and laugh some more, her hand squeezing mine with each outburst.
Suddenly, the seats fell away beneath us, and we stood facing each other as the dark carpet faded to expose wood flooring below our feet.
"Set in stone. I like it!" Pleased with her new English phrase, Anna walked away practising, "Set in stone..." Her enthusiasm for literally everything always made me smile. Listening to her repeat it as she went into the bedroom, I grinned from ear to ear while stirring the contents of the hot pan. It was a cold, grizzly evening, and I was cooking a Pad Thai Prawn Curry for dinner. I stirred and stirred while the oil popped and sizzled. Our dinner drew me in as it swirled round and round, spinning like the wheel of a bike.
Ring! Ring! Two tourists lept out of the way as a woman used her bell to let them know they'd better move because she had no intention of stopping. We waited for her to cycle past before crossing the street to De Pijp, where the stalls of the Albert Cuyp Market lined up on either side of us seemed endless, as did the options. Fruit, veggies, wallets, smoothies, t-shirts, flowers - the list goes on. Staring in every direction wide-eyed like a newborn baby, I may as well have had 'TOURIST' tattooed on my forehead. I must have looked like an owl, gawking from side to side, head turning nearly completely around. Anna was in tears. I tried toning it down and fitting in a bit, but it was useless. There was so much going on that my head was spinning around like a sprinkler, trying to take it all in. Anna's laughter became contagious, so I gave up and joined her. We walked and laughed, and we were happy.
I looked over at Anna, and the sky darkened without warning. Her head turned towards me, but her face was no longer hers. It was me again, eyes full of tears, staring back as an announcement was made about an upcoming stop. "Fuck this," I told myself, pulling out my phone to ring Anna, who was now saved in my contact list as Bomb.
"Hey! I can't do it. I don't want to go back to the UK. I'll figure something out, I always do. Can I stay at your place for a couple more nights? I'll come up with a plan tomorrow."
Anna was worried about her landlords getting upset if I stayed too long. Friendly but firm would best describe the elderly of Northern Europe. I got it. I also understood that Anna had to focus on her studies, so I needed to find my own way. And I would. Still, she was happy for me to stay again despite how late it would be when I arrived at Staircase Mountain.
"Thanks! I'll call you in a few hours when I'm out front." I popped my phone back into my pocket and turned to face my reflection one last time. I noticed my tears were gone, and my mouth was turned up in a smile.
I felt the train slow down as my reflection quickly faded and lights poked holes in the dark mirror beside me. Like ghosts, crowds of people suddenly appeared, racing about the approaching station.
I was already standing at the door with my pack on when the train screeched to a halt. This felt right. The doors opened with a hiss, and I took a deep breath of freedom before stepping out onto a new yet familiar journey—one of risk, where I found comfort while others did not—the path of the unknown.