Searching for Fools Gold

In my incapacitated state, I’m travelling back in time through music and memories. It’s true what Maria, a dear class mate and friend of mine, said. We were never being boring when we were young. Younger, because we are still young and wild at heart.  Or are we? I’m currently listening to Stone Roses – Fools Gold. It reminds me of my travels in India. A time that seems far, far away. Another life, another person. I recently found some loose diary notes from that time. I’m amazed how fast I went on with my life in the matter of 18 months. Those notes have all the ingredients for an independent film, directed by Larry Clark, the director of Kids and later Ken Park.

In a year I had gone from a well educated young woman (although always delving into the stranger subjects in life…but who didn’t), to betting all my money on a wild card in the shape of A – the taxi-driver, the guy on probation, the one with the mysterious X. After a whirlwind 2 week romance, I had gone back to Sweden, opened one of my saving accounts (from my deceased mother) and bought a ticket to New Delhi, India. Three weeks later I was on the plane…

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I ended up travelling India for 3 months, for to quote Dicken’s “was the best of the times, and it was the worst of times”. The adventures I experienced and endured deserves chapters, and although I have the urge to write like mad, I need some time to gather those thoughts together. Yet that year, extending into an 18 month period, held some amazing experiences, which although frown upon by society enriched my life. It is with ambivalence I say this, because as a grown up and mother you are suppose to set an example. Yet why should I lie about it? It’s a part of my life, adding shape to who I am as much as school, books, and upbringing did.

That year and a bit, became a treasure hunt for strange and obscure artifacts of life. I kissed a girl for the first time. It was during a dinner party (alternative style) and it just happened, accompanied to the music of Upstairs Havana (a well known Amsterdam gay club in the 90’s).  She was the first girl of a hand full and a little more.

I tried soft drugs, although always having a personal anti-drug stance. As I didn’t smoke (good girls never do), I consumed it on a few occasions in the form of space cakes. The experience was less than thrilling and I never did it again.

There were strange encounters with obscure and shady people – criminals is a more accurate description I suppose. Amsterdam is certainly a city which facilitates for those often unexpected convergences of life.

We visited clubs, of the erotic kind, where no 19 year old should ever set their foot. But after all that made the experience all the more thrilling.

Still for most of these episodes I took on the role and capacity of a voyeur. Never really taking part, always keeping myself to the periphery. I used pretend to myself I was a journalist, a writer that was only there to document these events for prosperity.  I did, on little notes, pieces of paper and inside of books. Now and then I make a new discovery bringing back those memories of 96/97. A period I was, like I’m sure most of my compatriots, searching for fools gold…..and in all honesty I still am.