Hidden Gems

"But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin." ~Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

[Fair warning: These posts are about 90% clean. There is still a bit of smut, and if you want to avoid it I understand. If not, I hope you enjoy.]

April 13, 2013 (Continued)The Gassan Diamond factory is located in the old Jewish Town of Amsterdam. During the Nazi occupation, when the Jews had been deported from these neighborhoods, people would go in and take apart the houses and buildings to use the rubble as firewood. As a result the whole neighborhood looked like a war zone. Years later, the city turned the neighborhood over to the art school which redesigned and rebuilt a number of the buildings. Now it looks like an entire art museum. The buildings are bright pastel colors and appear as though they’d fall over in a strong wind.

On our way to the factory, Andy pointed out a few features including Rembrandt’s house and an old battleship called The Nemo. We also passed The History of Sex museum—to which I sarcastically asked the question, “What exactly about sex has changed over history?”

In about 10 minutes, we arrived that the Gassan Diamond Co.  The facility was heavily guarded but the security guards all welcomed us as we arrived. Andy explained that, once again, because Holland had been such a central shipping port for the world, many of the Diamonds from Africa, the Middle East, and later the southern American states would pass through Amsterdam. Various Jewish families eventually latched onto the industry and Samuel Gassan started the company in 1945.

Once inside, we were given diamond shaped visitor badges. Andy and Jen introduced us to our guide and told us to ask lots of questions. “She’s my favorite person who works here,” Jen whispered to us as we started the tour. Andy and Jen didn’t join us in the factory, but said they would meet us at the hostel at 7:00 for dinner.

During our tour, I learned more about Diamonds than I ever wanted to know (including the type of salary I need to make in order to purchase one of those things someday.) I had no idea that diamond was the solidified form of carbon. After seeing the entire process of taking the diamond from solid crystal to a chiseled gem, we realized that diamonds in themselves have no beauty. The two things that give them their appearance are the various angled cuts and the way the light passes through them.

I feel like there is something poetic in all that.

One diamond she showed us had so many cuts in it, that when light hit it, it literally looked like the stone was vibrating in place. Of course holding it, we could see that it wasn’t but if it was set on the table, it looked to be moving.

For the final portion of the tour, we went into one of the side show rooms. There was a hydraulic tube that our guide used to call for diamonds from the safe to be sent down. She explained to us the 4Cs of classifying diamonds--carat (weight), color, clarity, and cut   .

“Have any of the diamonds ever been stolen?” one of the girls asked.

“Yes,” our guide said. “We had a security guard who bought a mini-refrigerator on his way to work one day. He kept it in his office. At night, the cameras saw him roll the refrigerator out. The next morning, lots of diamonds were missing and he didn’t show up to work. They caught him. He’d filled the fridge with them and took them out in plain sight.

“Another time, we found a colleague sitting in one of these rooms with a glossy eyed look on her face and her tour group was gone. The family had hypnotized her and stolen the gems.”

We laughed at that one.

“We’ve only ever had one person pull a knife. I was trained when I came to work here to read body language of the group I am with. If I suspect anything, I can press this button. If anyone turns violent, I am supposed to just let them take the diamonds and press this button. Security will take care of them. I don’t even have to press the button. There are people throughout the building that have been trained to read situations.”

We asked more questions and learned that she was originally from Russia. She’d worked for other jewelry companies before. After briefly leaving the industry, Gassan had recruited her to work for them.

After passing around all the samples, our guide released us to go to the show room where the various jewels could be purchased in their finished form. They did have some pretty nice watches, as well as diamond studded pens.

When we left, the girls decided to go into town to do some souvenir shopping. I decided to head back to the hostel and figure out what other sites I wanted to take in. On the way, I stopped at one of the numerous French fry vendors that lined the streets. The Dutch try to take credit for French fries too, but that one actually goes to Belgium. Either way, the fries tasted good.

Back at the hostel, I journaled briefly so I could recapture the memories thus far from the day. Looking back at my pictures, I decided I wanted to go see the Buddhist temple. Asking for a map at the front desk, I headed out.

The layout of Amsterdam was confusing. It was probably just because I’d gotten in at night and been overwhelmed by the crowd. Either way, unlike Barcelona or Prague, I didn’t feel like I knew my way around that well. I marked on the map where the hostel was, and headed out from there.

When I found the Buddhist temple, it was locked. A sign on the door said something to extent of “For our members only.” Apparently this wasn’t a tourist attraction either. At that point I decided to wander. I figured with the map, I really couldn’t get that lost so I just wove in and out of the streets and crowds. The prostitutes were already in place for the evening (it was 4:30) and they were much more aggressive when I was by myself than when I was walking with the girls. They would tap at the glass, wink when I made eye contact, and do that seductive finger waving thing to solicit my business.

There were other oddities around town two. One that jumps out was a group of drag queens taking turns dry humping a light post. I also saw a fight break out outside of a coffee shop.  At one point, there was a loud noise coming up the canal. I turned to look and saw a group that was clearly intoxicated come shooting up the river on a motorboat. One guy was standing on the bow doing the Leonardo Decapprio pose and shouting either incoherently or in a different language. Either way, he was so out of it, that when the motor boat passed under a bridge (without slowing down from its flight-like speed) he rammed his forehead into the concrete and went down hard.

That’s probably trips he’s not going to remember…along with the 12 years of his life leading up to it.

As I walked past the kindergarten we’d seen the night before, I realized I didn’t feel afraid. My guard was up, I was aware of which pocket my wallet was in, and taking note to make sure I wasn’t being watch or followed, but it wasn’t the illogical panic I expected Zach to feel. I felt very clear headed. In fact, I was having fun.

I never realized how afraid I’d been of the world until I didn’t feel afraid anymore. Somewhere between that flight to London and now, I’ve grown a little self-confidence. I don’t mind looking foolish or getting lost or not knowing what I’m doing.

After wandering around and taking in the crowd, I pulled out my map and navigated back to the hostel. I had a little bit of time journal some more. I noticed that every time I came to the room there was some one throwing up in the toilet. To this point, I’d been afraid of catching Amsterdam and getting sick myself. Now I realized they were all sick from whatever chemicals their LSD had been laced with.

I met one of my roommates. Didn’t catch his name but he was on holiday from Britain. I declined his offer to go with him to a coffee shop (can always blame the asthma for that one) but appreciated his invite. After jotting some more notes and emailing a few friends, I headed out to meet the group for dinner.