A'dam to PHX

I had the opportunity to visit my home town of Phoenix, Arizona, before attending a conference in San Diego. “Town” may be a bit of a misnomer, though, since over four million now live in the metropolitan area. After eight months in Amsterdam, where streets are narrow, the landscape is flat, and buildings and moisture obscure long views, I was startled by how different the vastness of Phoenix seemed compared to what I’ve become accustomed. Phoenix swelled outwards when oil and land were cheap, and most of the city is constructed based on this reality. To accommodate the distribution of homes and necessity for driving long distances, the cities, counties, and states funded massive highways with four wide lanes running in each direction and speed limits often 75 miles per hour (130 kilometers per hour). Some of these highways are sunken beneath the streets that run parallel, and are framed by humungous gravel slopes. Others simply cut through the vast desert landscape.

Between time spent with friends and family, I reflected on the landscape that I grew up in, but that now looks somewhat alien. Compared to the perpetually green grass in the parks of Amsterdam and the water in canals and rivers, the desert landscape is desolately beautiful. Small mountains higher than anything around North or South Holland pepper the desert floor, which is littered with cacti, boulders, and desert shrubs. The properties around my mother’s in Casa Grande contain large barking dogs, cattle, and horses. The houses themselves are a mix of manufactured single- and double-wides and custom-made McMansions.

Something as simple as a short trip to the grocery store highlights differences between my current and past homes. Parking lots like that outside of Fry’s in Casa Grande do not exist in Amsterdam, since space is at a premium. I have not seen fast food drive-throughs in Amsterdam like those that dot the U.S. Although I have not thoroughly investigated the frozen food section of Albert Heijn, I have not seen products similar to honey crunch corndogs and sausages wrapped in a pancake on a stick.

This visit has been fantastic for many reasons, most of which concern seeing loved ones and old friends. But Amsterdam can’t compete with Phoenix in one dimension, which has been one of the highlights of the visit: the Arizona skies at dusk.

Going to Church

New Year

I began hearing cars backfire quite a bit early last week, so around December 26th. On Thursday, a loud explosive noise came from under a car when I was only a few meters away as I rode by it on my bike.

The frequency of the noises increased until Friday, when I heard booming sounds every few minutes. Some sounded like gunfire, and some sounded like cars backfiring. I googled "gunfire amsterdam" and didn't find any news of domestic terrorism or gang wars. I figured that, if there was something to be worried about, I'd see more panicking in the streets from the folks who follow the local news more than me. But, apart from the noises, people were acting perfectly normally.

On Friday night, while riding my bike into the center of town, I saw flashes of light along the banks of the river, and I realized that the noises had been a week of people lighting fire crackers, small bombs, and fireworks.

I've never understood the appeal of blowing things up. It seems a little silly to get so excited about a loud noise and a little light, especially considering the non-trivial risk of destroying a hand or your eyes, and the cost of purchasing the explosives. But apparently I'm in the minority, both here and in the U.S. People had apparently taken advantage of time off from work and school by entertaining themselves with small explosives. Charming.

By Saturday - New Years Eve - the explosive noises were occurring every ten seconds. It was a uniquely unpleasant feeling. Kind of like a headache, but worse. Perhaps like Chinese water torture. The fact that many of the firecrackers were lit directly below my apartment did not help. A group of teenage boys were simply lighting small explosives and throwing them on the street. Then standing there for five seconds. Then watching them disintegrate into a cloud of acrid smoke that made its way into my apartment.

After a day of grinding my teeth and considering introducing the teenagers in my area to the very American phrase "Going Postal," I made my way toward Dam Square in the center of town with five friends to witness the countdown at midnight. The thirty minute walk there was absolute mayhem. A large glass bottle was thrown from an apartment window to the street below, and it shattered less than twenty feet from me. The streets were flooded with people, many of whom were drinking, either from beer bottles, water bottles that they'd filled with cocktails, or entire wine bottles.

The scene at Dam Square was chaotic. There was no organized party or event. Thousands of people were simply standing around, with some of them lighting small bombs and fireworks in the crowd. At one point, something exploded just a few feet from us, and it left our ears ringing and our heads a little fuzzy. We decided to vacate the premises and take shelter in a bar at that point. As we shoved our way through the crowd, I noted people taking their beer bottles and simply throwing them hard against the ground. The streets were littered with chunks of glass, trash, and embers from explosives. The whole scene made me think of a world in which the European Union had just collapsed, and there was chaos in the streets.

So, in sum, I might plan on traveling during New Years next year.