Everyone changed their clocks except for me, or that is how it felt when I biked along the canal to the office thinking that it was unusually quiet. Normally the roads are filled with biking people trying to avoid hitting trucks, tourists, trams, tourists, walking people, cars, tourists, and all the other things that constantly is thrown at you while you try and reach the office in a reasonable time. Not today, today life seemed quiet and I thought that it was a very pleasant way to start the week. Then an appointment called and asked where I was and I immediately realized that I was in a different time zone. Jet-lag without flying. When I flew the 45 minutes flight between Las Vegas and Phoenix (an airport with no clocks!) and missed my connecting flight to Charlotte I had a similar feeling. That time I got drunk on white White that I bought in a gas station, this time I biked a bit faster and played catch up with time during the whole day.
Its Friday and the week that just started ended, or will end, at some point, in time. Time moves at the same speed as it always does. I move with it, or past it. I have no concept of time, this is something I've returned to often during the past couple of years. The fact that I have lost the feel for time, a concert a week ago can feel like it was a year ago and the smell from someone in my bed can feel like yesterday. But the clock on the wall (If I would have one) just keeps onticking , relentless in it's chronic movements into the unknown. Or the time is known, but what we fill it with is not.
As chronic as the time, so is the Swedish mentality towards Marijuana. When deciding to move to Amsterdam I was confronted with more Marijuana jokes per capita than anyone should encounter during a life time. Many Swedish people believe that the only thing the Dutch do is play beautiful football without winning any tournaments, and getting stoned. Thus, I was very pleased to see this article in the NRC International. There it was conclused that the Dutch does not smoke as much weed as my Nordic country men assume. They even smoke less than the EU average. Turns out that pizza baking Italy leads the chart before day sleeping Spain and hockey hair cut Czech Republic. Ah, how we in the editorial board of Airportline loves when national stereotypes crumble. With that said I will go and buy one kilo of hair gel, cause that is what we do here in the Netherlands.
