I was still faced with the problem of finding a new place to stay which was made very clear one night. I was awoken by the sound of the garbage bag rustling in the corner. As I scanned the area with my eyes adjusting to the darkness, I noticed that is was debris falling from above. When I looked up I almost jumped out of my skin. There was a rat crawling sideways across the wall and the broken bricks were crumbling as it walked, creating a shower of small pieces that were hitting the bag. The rat noticed my reaction and lost its grip on the wall, falling into the garbage bag. For the next few minutes I stared wide-eyed at the bag as the rat struggled to get out. Then once out we spent the next ten minutes playing hide and seek as the rat would pop its head out of one side of the bag, see me and retreat, then pop its head out the other side with the same result. I finally said the hell with it and got up to go, I knew I would not be going back to sleep with a rat running around the place. Frank and the Monkey Man were still sound asleep and I decided to let them be figuring the rat wouldn’t bother them and they would never know it was there. Once outside I saw that it was 4:30 in the morning and nothing was open. I went to the only 24 hour place around…the train station. I found an obscure platform and went to the bench at the far end and proceeded to go back to sleep. When I awoke a few hours later, I felt refreshed with a new determination to find a decent place. Now that I would have some money rolling in, my options were increased significantly.
Within a few days of putting the word out, one of the regulars from the Hill tells me about a place him and his friend had found. It was a five bedroom place and it was only 150 guilders a month per person. The catch was that it was in a small town called Heemskerk, about 30 miles outside of Amsterdam. It was fine by me as anything would be better than the rat infested shit hole I currently had and Frank agreed whole heartedly. Kurt was eager to be the fifth and two days later we were ready to make the move. Frank packed up early and left with Kurt, I had to work and would join them later with the other two. John was an Irishman from Belfast and he was a jolly dude who loved to party. Gary was another Englishman from Newcastle and while he loved to party as well, he was a bit intense even bordering on strange. We met at the Hill and went to the squat to load up my stuff into John’s car. When we approached the squat there was a dude there trying to fit a key into the lock. I asked him what he was doing and he told me that he was a contractor and was there to get an estimate for the owner for how much to fix the place. I said ‘you must be working with the Monkey Man’? He just got a puzzled look and said “who”? When I explained the situation he got a serious look and said “we’ll see about this” and stormed off. I shrugged my shoulders and went in to pack up my stuff, It only took a few minutes as I didn’t have that much and I was rushing to get out before that dude returned. As I brought my last bag out I saw a group of guys coming around the corner led by a guy with a twisted up mean look on his face. The contractor was with him along with 4 big Dutch guys, none of them were looking very friendly. the front guy comes up to me and gets in my face as he yells out “what’s going on here”! I had to think fast and thought the truth would be no good but since the Monkey Man was full of it, I felt no guilt laying it at his feet. I calmly explain that I had met this guy who told me he controlled a squat and charged me 50 guilders a week for the place. I also told him that I had been there for just the one week and that I was now leaving. He asked me a few questions about the Monkey Man and I told him what I could, hoping he would relax a bit. Finally he eased up thinking I had just been a gullible tourist and told me to give him the key, I did without hesitation. He and his henchmen headed in and I headed out to my new digs. I would later find out that they beat up the Monkey Man and took all his stuff, a fitting outcome for a lying piece of crap.
The new place was nice, we all had a big bedroom, there was a nice living area for everyone to hang out in and a huge deck for having bbq’s. It was a bit off the beaten path as the nearest train station was a 15 minute bike ride but it was summer so the rides would be nice. It sat above an upholstery repair shop with no other neighbors around, this meant that once 5 p.m. came around there was no one to complain about us partying the night away. The place was great but there were a few issues to deal with, one was that there was no coffee-shop in the area so we had to make sure we had a supply before we left Amsterdam or else we had nothing. The second and more troubling issue was the price of the train, with having to go to Amsterdam at least 5 times a week for the job, the train would cost about 3 times as much as rent. This obviously made the place much less of a bargain but it was better than the crappy squat I had just left so I found a way. I would pay for the train only when I had to, which meant hardly ever. I would rely on the dumb tourist act and when I would get asked for a ticket, I would just pull out some money and offer to pay. When they would tell me that it was not the way to do it, I would thank them for clearing it up and usually they would let me go without having to pay a thing.
Heemskerk is out near the sea which meant that any days when I didn’t have to be in Amsterdam, I was usually at one of the nearby beaches with a joint in one hand and a beer in the other. I would have to sometimes pinch myself to see if it was all just a dream and I would smile even wider when I realized it wasn’t. The second month is when things got a bit more challenging. My pool game had suffered a bit having not played as much since moving and I was missing it. My anonymity on the train was starting to wear thin as I began to see the same faces on a regular basis which made it near impossible to play the dumb tourist. I was also feeling burned out by the 2 hours of commute time each day, I started to think about finding a place back in Amsterdam. I now had a bit of money in my pocket but I was not willing to go back to hostels or squats. Unfortunately with no legal documentation, it would prove difficult to find a place. So for the time being I would remain content with what I had.
One afternoon while sitting around the Hill, a friend who worked at a competing hostel tells me that he is leaving town and going back home to England. I ask him what will happen to the apartment he lives in? He said he hasn’t thought about it but that I could have it if I want. I instantly said yes and asked when I could move in? He says he will be leaving on Sunday and that I could move in on Saturday. Back in the place in Heemskerk the rest of the guys were also looking for places back in Amsterdam and they were not too upset when I was the first one to pull out. I had paid rent until the end of the month and it was only the second week so they had two more weeks to get out or find another room-mate because I was out of there. On Saturday I packed up my stuff , told the boys I’d see then back at the Hill and off I went. While riding back I was thinking how great it was to finally have a place of my own…little did I know the unpleasant surprise that awaited me once I got there.
A Continuing Story About Life On The Run