[Reader-list] Living in a Small City

[zainab at xtdnet.nl]

Dear All,
Posting an article which I read in the Amsterdam Weekly. The column is
titled "Portable City" and the article is called "The First Breakdancer".
Wonder what you think of it!?!?!?
Cheers,
Z


I sit in the tram, looking at the tourists shoving their way past the
gables on the Damrak. I imagine that Amsterdam looks like a big city to
them - that, despite the bikes and the cuddly canals, this city creates
the impression of being a metropolis.
That big-city feeling has less to do with the size of a city than with its
spirit of place. Aren't there hundreds of much larger cities that are more
boring than most villages in the countryside?
A real city consists of conjectures about people, clubs and restaurants
that you don't yet know. A big city is anonymous, which gives its
inhabitants opportunities to take distance from themselves.
But if - like me - you grew up in Amsterdam, the illusion of being in a
big city is continually being dispelled.
It's because of the people: there aren't just enough of them. I'm always
running into people whose faces I know. Sometimes they greet me with a
brief nod and sometimes they quickly look away. Some of the faces belong
to people I know from school, or university. Other, more recent faces are
those of people I know from restaurants, cafes or parties. All of them
have a story of some kind that I remember.
Take the driver of the tram I'm sitting in now. In the early 1980's he was
the city's first breakdancer. I'd see him in the middle of the
Leidseplein, dancing to the pumping hip-hop beats coming from his ghetto
blaster.
That's the good thing about recognizing faces. But what disturbs me about
so many faces I know is that they're changing. Sometimes I'll see someone
who I've seen around the city all my life whose face has got fuller and
who's proudly pushing a pram. When I go out I see the same faces
everywhere, but now they've become harder or fatter. For this reason alone
I'd sometimes really prefer to be living in a bigger city; at least I
wouldn't have to see myself growing older.
What, by the way, could I ever do with all the people I know? How many
people does one really need: 30, eight? Maybe only one?
The tram comes to a halt at Leidseplein. I get out and walk in front of
the tram. I look up and see the first breakdancer of Amsterdam. He's
wearing a blue uniform, and he makes sure to rung the tram's bell before
driving on.




Zainab Bawa
Bombay
www.xanga.com/CityBytes
http://crimsonfeet.recut.org/rubrique53.html