Well, despite my best efforts, I'm a free man today.

Operational security runs kind of tight in this organization, which is a very good thing. Loose lips get activists killed. The downside is that I can't tell you guys when I'm about to do something stupid or fun. Yesterday was one of those days.

All I knew in advance was that we'd be meeting at the Greenpeace warehouse in Amsterdam Noord at 10am on Sunday morning. There were rumors as to the action, but when you volunteer for this stuff, you don't know what you're getting into. I really wanted to get hip-deep in the shit, mang.

Den Haag is the seat of Dutch government, but not the capital (how does that work?). It is also the meeting place for many international bodies and UN groups, various multi-national corporations, and so on. If you speak English, you probably call it "The Hague", but trust me, you're pronouncing it wrong. Try to say "Den Hah", then produce as much phlegm as you're capable of. That's about as close as you'll get to proper pronunciation without coaching.

Yesterday was the start of the Conference on Bio-Diversity, a group that has met for 10 years now to talk and do absolutely nothing about actually solving environmental problems. It's a great place for corporations to say "We're doing something!" without actually doing it. Naturally, it's a magnet for groups like Greenpeace, who actually Do Something.

I admit it, I was very excited when the coordinator told us we would very likely be in handcuffs inside 10 minutes. It just doesn't seem right to leave Amsterdam without a Dutch arrest record. Security around the Center was very tight, and the police weren't in a joking mood.

But, it went off with relatively few hitches:

http://www.greenpeace.org/saveordelete/afs/7april02.html

You won't see me in any pictures on that site, mainly because I stayed out of them. 20 of us running around in white coveralls isn't near as effective as 30 children in front of our inflatable animals. Ruthless.

My part was simple: inflate giant animals, then get in an elephant suit and be seen with children. If you ever volunteer for an action, don't wear the suit. It's hot. It's sweaty. And the children keep trying to speak to you in Dutch. At least I had the "animals don't speak" excuse. =] I was part of the first wave, a perfectly sanctioned demonstration. The illegal stuff arrived 15 minutes later, hoping the police might not react fast enough.

They were dead wrong. As soon as the truck pulled up to dump the clear-cut forest scene on the lawn, the police jumped. They pulled them out of vehicles, threw them on the ground, screaming - the whole bit. In the end, no one was arrested, but they took our chainsaws and other irritating action-type-tools. Bummer.

We demonstrated for a few hours, then went home. I guess I'll have to try harder for that Interpol file.

If you ever come to Holland, be sure to check out the pubs. But be careful what you order for dinner.

I was drinking with three vegetarian friends a few evenings ago, and we ordered snacks to keep the intoxication (loosely) at bay. Thinking I'd get some delicious Dutch sausage, I ordered "ossenworst". What arrived was a place of finely sliced, very tasty, completely raw sausage. I'm a "when in Rome" kind of guy, so I ate it. Pretty good actually. But the vegetarians were horrified. I had to eat falafel for a week to earn their forgiveness.

I was walking in de Centrum the other day, when I saw a building with an inscription on it:

Homo sapiens non urinat in ventum

That's Latin for "The thinking man does not piss into the wind." Whoever is responsible for that, you rock.

The Onion has recently prepared a little guide to make my trip home a little easier:

http://graphics.theonion.com/pics_3812/statshot_3812.jpg [link broken]

My roommate Tony and I rode our bikes to Bloemendaal aan Zee Saturday. It's a seaside town, about 30 km from Amsterdam, along de Noordzee (the North Sea). It was a beautiful ride. We rode down the little bikeroads all the way. America has no equivalent; if you ride your bike, you do it choking on car fumes. The Netherlands are covered in roads just big enough for bicycles and scooters, and they're heavily used.

Along the way, we stopped in Haarlem and walked around the center market. Another beautiful thousand-year-old church, plus sampling the local food. I fell prey to the *drool* fresh ... warm ... Stroopwaffles ... mmmmmmmm ... uh, twice, plus some great real food.

If the Dutch had known what a shithole Harlem, New York would have become, they never would have given us the name. It's a beautiful city.

The Noordzee was a real shock for me. I don't think I had yet realized that I'm not in the States, not at the gut level. And then I saw it: an ocean that wasn't Mine. It was huge, a massive body of water, with it's own color, waves, wind, horizon, everything. And it wasn't the Pacific, no doubt about it. There's something about actually setting foot there to make you realize you're on an alien shore. I now understand what a decision it was for the early settlers to set sail for another shore; it's truly not home.

The Noordzee is brown, a roiling mass of silt kicked up by offshore currents. It's cold, windy, and absolutely beautiful. You should see it.

I've been here just long enough to know I'm going to miss it when I return to the States. When I set off on this crazy Greenpeace thing, I said I wanted to indulge my wanderlust. I hadn't realized the price I'd pay: you might make a home anywhere you want, but you'll never have just one home again. I miss SLO, I miss SF, and I know I'll miss Amsterdam. I wonder what "home" will be when I've got a few more stamps in my passport.

Dad, I know you read these messages too. I don't know what really pushed you out into the world, but I suspect it runs in the blood.