by Madeleine KandoI am back in my cramped little airplane seat on yet another visit to Holland. It is as if the plane, the crew and the passengers had been put in a state of suspended animation since my last trip, all waiting for me to return. The same bald heads are peering at me over the back of their seats. Bald heads, baseball cap heads, turban heads.... They are all still there as if I had never left.
My flight promises to be long and boring. As I am studying my co-passengers' crowns I cannot but admire nature's propensity for variation. I pass the time wondering what kind of individuals are attached to these little pieces of hair. Take the person in front of me. The ears on his head are beet red and stick out like Dr. Spock's. I wonder if he speaks Vulcan.. And what about that gorgeous tuft of red hair two rows down? Her sunglasses nested inside that abundance of red curls, totally wedged in even when she bends over to read (mine would fall off and crash to the floor). Oh oh! I see a sinister looking head with a hood draped over some dark hair. What if he is a terrorist who is waiting for the right moment to blow us all to kingdom come? I wonder what the back of my head reveals about me? Someone must be wondering about that excentric woman who forgot to comb her hair that morning.
Diversity doesn't stop with crowns of heads, you know. Take my co-passengers' voices for instance. Most of them are muffled by the sound of the engines. They constitute the background noise for my long, boring flight. But five rows down there sits the inevitable rotten apple. Not only has nature endowed this individual with a queue-tip shaped bald head, but his voice is so loud that it could wake up the dead. We all have to listen to his life's confession, whether we like it or not. His perfect English has such a strong Dutch accent that it sends shivers down my spine. Unable to concentrate on my writing, I finally put in my earplugs.
Sitting here in my little cubicle, I feel like I am trapped in Plato's cave. The only way I can experience reality is through the eyes of the flight attendants who keep reminding us to keep our seat belts fastened. I envy their freedom. Is it like that in jail? Prisoners must be gaging time by their meals, their once a week visits, their time to go for a walk.. Us unfortunate passengers aren't even allowed that luxury.
Holland has also been put in a state of suspended animation, all my friends, the buildings, the trams... all frozen in time since my last visit. Including Ata, my 96 year old mom. Except that she might soon disappear altogether because of her age. Suspension is temporary but death is permanent, you see.
I have arrived in Holland. I am dragging my memories behind me, comfortably piled up on a long tailcoat following me with every step. The trees are in bloom. The fresh Dutch air on the polders around my mom's flat are flavored with childhood memories. Diversity also extends to my thoughts here. I am all over the place in my head, free from the drudgery of everyday life.
I will meet my mom's friends and admirers (she is a famous ex-photographer). They will all be very interested in each other, less so in me. In their eyes I am the one that has been put in a state of suspended animation since I left Holland many decades ago. I practically don't exist any more. My visits are usually too short for me to unfreeze and become part of their small, insulated world.
But that's ok. There wouldn't be any room for me here. I am used to living a stretched out life and being back in Holland feels like I have to keep an imaginary seatbelt on. Too many rules and regulations. Too many cliques. This diminutive, well-organized country couldn't function without them. That is the price you pay, I guess, to live in a 'just' society, a society without extremes.
I will soon leave again, revisit my hooded, balding, red-haired friends in my small window seat. I will hopefully fly over the notorious Eyjafjallajökull volcano, back to the land of the free. For me, Holland will revert back to a state of suspended animation and my mom's acquaintances will put me back in the refrigerator until my next visit to this beautiful little country. Bye bye Holland. leave comment here