Yo-Yo Trauma

Although a mild tragedy, I feel a certain sense of pride in having broken my first yo-yo string. I bought my Duncan Butterfly at a gift shop at Grand Central Station in Manhattan eight months ago; intending to give it as a gift, but then not giving it. How horrible is that? I guess I deserved to have it malfunction this way. It has been fraying over the last few weeks so I have only been "waiting for the hammer to fall." I was backstage at my show here in A'dam and had successfully performed an "around the world" trick in front of some of the female dancers. Their "oohs" and "aahs" enticed me to repeat the trick, and as soon as I thrust the device out full length, it flew beyond it's point of return and rolled down the hallway. The same mouths that praised my skill only moments earlier, were now laughing in derision. I was a broken man.

Yes. I yo. It relaxes me. I'm not as good as Mr. Smothers, but it's a good feeling; sort of a Zen thing to have this perpetual motion going on.. It's cool, so don't knock it!

So, the day after the incident, I thought that perhaps there might be a shop in this strange city that sells yo-yo strings. Fat chance, eh? I found one only A BLOCK FROM MY HOUSE! Isn't that incredible? It was a shop I found on the internet that sells supplies for street performers: battons, mime makeup, fire breathing fluid... The lady working there pulled out bags of many colored strings, each costing only a euro-fifty for a packet of six! I was elated, but tried not to show it. I bought a packet, attached a new string to my device and tried it out. Magic! I left the shop saying thankyou and goodbye. The shop owner said to me on my way out, "good luck with your purchase." I thought her comment lent gravity to the real importance of having a properly working yo-yo, and that, unlike many others that don't understand the stability and calm that a yo-yo can bring to one's demeanor, she understood and effectively blessed me, as she would a fellow member of the homeless-eurotrash-street-performer-brotherhood.

"Cross Town Traffic: So Hard to Get Through to You"

Bicyclists out-number cars, it seems, an hundred-fold in Amsterdam. This transportation phenomenon does not descriminate the unathletic. At any time, one can see ladies in skirts with high heels eating ice cream riding a bicycle, or mothers carrying up to three children on a bicycle (babies have special attachments to sit on the handlebars). Occasionally one can see a certain bicycle model where the front forks are elongated down and forward, by two and a half feet, to accomodate a large wooden barrow, equipped to handle groceries, supplies or children. I've not seen a helmet at all here.

Each direction of auto traffic is flanked to the right by a bicycle lane and then a sidewalk, and each bicycle lane supplies two way traffic; so that, if, as a pedestrian, you wanted to cross a two way street, your order of directions would be as follows:

Look left, look right, cross, look left, look right, cross, look left, look right, cross.

Now consider the above ground trains which circuit the main streets, in either direction. To cross one of those the order is:

Look left, look right, cross, look left, cross, look left, look right, cross, look right, cross, look left, look right, cross.

For most people, this looking-out-for-one's-life is too stressful, so that, at main intersections, there are traffic lights accorded to cars, pedestrians, trains AND bicycles. I wondered at first why no one J-walks here. Now I know.

An added fear to walking about is bicyclists' manner. No matter the behaviour you'd estime from any individual, you can safely assume that as soon as they enter bicycle circulation, they become an effective, Mr./Mrs Hyde; unconscious of pedestrians right to space or passage. Most peddlers assert their status with an unyielding and constant speed, forcing potential street crossers to jump out of the way at the last second. Others yell. Perhaps ten percent of the time, bicyclists use their bell to warn others of their "ploughing through." That's relatively considerate, I suppose.

As it has been described to me, the bicyclist's lust for speed and self-assertion is the freedom they are granted. Ostensibly, because of the effeciency of the paths, one may ride in any direction for miles without stopping and it also seems to be the best way to get around. Jay Hunter Morris, one of the singers in the cast, just bought a bicycle and he says it's the best feeling to just ride around and see much more of the city than he would just walking. I'm tempted.