THE SECRETS OF THE LITTLE DUTCH GIRL

27.05.04

Four years ago, at a time like that, I went to Holland. I was a Mobility International guest, an international organization that currently takes action only in the U.S.A. and deals with issues concerning people with a disability, especially with their socialization. Organizing trips to various countries around the world with the contribution of various bodies and associations (of people with a disability), who are the ones to decide who they will send on each mission to represent their countries, is part of its action programme.

The Paraplegic Association of Greece chose 3 persons who would participate in a program of voluntary work that would last two weeks. The programme was like the well known programmes of voluntary work that are organized in our country and offer accommodation and lodging free of charge to all those interested; the difference is that, in our case, the ticket expenses were also to be covered. I needed nothing more in order to apply for participation. Every surprise came after the other. This would be a triple trip.

Before our prior mission, a shorter one would take place and another one at the end of it. So they called us in Holland in order to prepare us for everything that would come next in the volunteers’ programme. Georgios and Odysseas would be my fellow travellers. I would travel with my friend Tina, Odysseas with his mother and Georgios with his companion, Kriton. Due to a reason that I never figured out, all of them were under extreme pressure. Georgios had never travelled before and his difficulty in speaking English made him feel very uncomfortable.

The airplane had just taken off and led us straight to the clouds. According to my ‘assessment’, I was flying even higher, since my enthusiasm lifted me beyond the sky itself. I was travelling without my parents for a recreation trip for the very first time. At the end of it, neither doctors nor physical therapists were expecting me; only dozens of friends who were waiting to get to know me.

We arrive at the airport, which is full of multicoloured tulips and we meet our tutors under a typical metallic red and white thing. They tell us that we should travel for about an hour by car, leave Amsterdam and reach the hotel where people are waiting for us. They tie my wheelchair with belts next to the car’s window. My friends sit on their wheelchairs behind me. Tina is chilling out in the front and smiles to the driver. She is beautiful and she knows that.

We listen to the Spice Girls on the radio and I wonder whether this is a good sign or not. We are already outside the city and I don’t have time to understand its pure essence. Shortly afterwards, we cross suburban roads. From my window, I can watch the cows grazing and looking ethereally happy. The DELTA cows would kill themselves if they knew what they are missing.

At the hotel, everything reminds me of a future movie scene. Everything is automatic, the accessibility is more than expected and there is nothing unapproachable. The luxury of simplicity meets human imagination and leaves every sceptical visitor numb. White surfaces next to the dazzling glass that covers parts of the roof lead us to open passages, where daylight is mixed with the light of the rest of that space. You turn your head up and watch the solemn clouds. You thank gods and daemons for not sending them right onto your head to crush on you. You are in there, and yet you are outside. Your wheels touch the earth but there is no place for your head. You scout the landscape like a radar. You perk up your neck like the giraffes. You break crystals and walls, seeking for images that will make you feel full.

It’s time for lunch. Some of those people that I am supposed to meet are waiting in the dining room. I am waiting for Jane. She is the president of Mobility International and basic coordinator of the program. She is an English woman with loads of humour, to everybody’s surprise, and unfailing devotion to her work. We have exchanged zillions of e-mails but I have never met her. I can’t wait to meet her, because I bet she is unbelievably sweet. I want to ask her if she has heard Lou Reed’s song “Sweet Jane”. She is not there. I will have to wait to meet her in the afternoon.

She is a little fat, dressed in white and indeed very sweet. She doesn’t disappoint me at all, although I know that someone of my age would tell she is ‘crap’ and even worse comments like that which would not seem fair at all for her; not because she is beautiful but because she isn’t ugly. In addition, she seems to be too ‘easy’ for me to make contact with her. She is tough but not more than I would want her to be. She is rather too sensitive and let the others take a look in her heart and seek for the button that will transform her into someone else. She reveals us that we would not visit the city throughout the weekend, i.e. for as long as we would stay there,
in order to abide by the schedule.

We get together in huge halls. We play stupid games that help us meet each other. There is a large amount of Irish people in our group. Of course, they drink beer as if it were water. They can’t wait, just like I do, they listen to Jane saying what their destination is going to be and what they will they mainly do – what their mission will be. I showed interest in visiting Ireland and I am waiting to hear the good news.

At night, I find Jane a bit dizzy sitting on the couch. I don’t miss out on the opportunity to tell her how much I love travelling and how happy I am to meet her. She says she is tired and she would rather be at home, with her daughter and cats. “I love dogs”, I tell her, “I will get a boxer as soon as I possibly can”. She smiles at me. I tell her: “Tomorrow you have to take us downtown”.

In the morning, I get to meet Marianne and Jack. Marianne is a blind middle-aged woman and Jack a German shepherd (like an Alsatian dog, or so to say) that accompanies her in every step. These dogs go through multiple tests of compliance and intelligence. The slightest mistake sends them back to “pursuing” a “career” as simple pets. Otherwise, they get the “degree” that certifies their readiness in being escorts. I can assure you that these dogs are something more than dogs. They don’t sit there waiting for your touch unless their owner lets them!
Marianne is as antisocial as her dog. This gets on my nerves a bit but I don’t care too much. My mind is on Jane, I think about her more than I would want to. I hope she will let us go downtown. I push her at some point and tell her: ‘Dear Jane, please come to your senses. We didn’t travel so far just to get stuck here. We have to go to Amsterdam at least for an hour. You say you want to help us socialize and I don’t quite understand how you are supposed to do this by keeping us imprisoned here’”. I see that she turns red. She answers: ‘I’ve got to think about it’. I look at her and I am sure she will make our wish come true. I promise myself not to fall in love with her. She is a mom with a little daughter (and a husband, above everything else) and has cats. What do I have to do with her?

We roll in the canal. The city lights are mirrored on the dark water that divide the heart of the city into two. The houses are old. They are four-floor blocks of flats with a cute style, like those in many cities of Germany and France. People seem to be multicoloured. As if they come from other planets. They are gentle freaks, in their majority. Others are walkers and others ride bikes (we are talking about thousands of bikes here), mix their smell with the smell of “grass” from the various coffee shops. A very heavy smell, quite like those steaks baked in barbecues. The place stinks. You make your head spinning, whether wanting it or not!

On the other side of the street, we look at the topless girls. Under the city lights and behind the shop windows. They wait patiently for someone to buy their time and body. We have so much to see we don’t have much time. Back in the bus, the boys come back with their pockets full of magic little bags: we pretend that we are stupid. We are afraid we might get into trouble. Jane was clear. If I catch you with anything like grass, I will discard you.

Back to the hotel, Jane announces me that the premises for the Work Camp of Ireland will not be ready for what I would want to do. They decide to send me to Finland.
We both smile. Jane asks me purposefully: ‘Did you guys have a nice time?’. ‘We just had a drink’, I answer. ‘Too bad’, she says and blinks her eye for me. At the same time, I see Marianne staggering and giving away a wasted smile. Even the dog loses its steps.