THE IVY ORCHARD

Once could imagine vampires and ghouls hiding out there. Instead, you found cats. At whatever time of day or night, felines prowled among the trees. In the darkness underneath the leaves there was rustling in the ivy that covered the ground, and occasionally a furry body brushed up against your legs.
What attracted them was the life that teemed among the trees.

I don't think the cats caught much. But the prospect lured them in. It was never entirely quiet there, the evidence of small creatures and feathered snacks was everywhere.

Well-fed urban felines aren't the best of hunters, and when one of the females is in heat it disturbs the routines of all. The yowling and crashing around probably entertains the resident rodents and birds more than it scares them; it is hard to fear something that so rambunctiously betrays it's presence.
Although you might occasionally find a desiccated little corpse among the grasses. Not often.

There were benches along the paths that twisted among the trees. In summer it was cooler there, and because of the shade and sense of isolation not very many walkers from the park beyond ventured in. It was probably the perfect place for quick trysts or long canoodling behind convenient bushes - bring a blanket to cover the ground - but all I can really remember hearing was the felines and their prey, perpetually dancing around each other in wide wide circles.
And, occasionally, yowling.

It wasn't very far from the Hertog Jan College, and after school I came to read.
In Autumn, when cutting classes, I would hide out there. The amount of privacy a park affords is immense.
Once or twice I saw another person, usually on a far path. In the afternoon it would be empty for hours, the twilight slowly gilding the trees, the ivy changing hues as the rays limned the leaves.

There were no lights along the paths. When darkness fell, it was time to leave.
During the years of my mother's illness, I sought out places like that more than I sought people.
You will dream a bit while you're elsewhere, and return refreshed from having been away.
Sometimes you just need to have a place to be yourself.


TEA TIME

When I started going to school in Eindhoven I discovered the Stads Wandelpark, which also promised such sanctuary with its shrubs, trees, and haphazardly manicured greens, but unfortunately did not deliver on that promise.
For one thing, there were too many children of various ages all around, for another, the dark private parts of the park harboured lurking degenerates. The first time I met such a person I thought he was a British expat because of the way he sounded, and, remarkably, he spoke fluent English too.
A few seconds later I was on my bike speeding away, feeling quite disturbed.
Let's just say the unwelcome advance was an eye-opener.

Unlike modern teenagers, for me the sexuality of other human beings in those years was not so flamboyantly obvious. Or maybe it was, but I just wasn't capable of recognizing what I saw. When I found out that one of my classmates was living with her boyfriend it was a deliciously titillating bit of knowledge.
So adventurous! So bold!
So unexpected among the younger than university age crowd.
It never struck me that either one of them was sexual.
In hindsight, I realize that they must have been.

For the next few years I often headed somewhere for tea after class. Did my algebra and geometry homework while high as a kite from all the caffeine, clearing out before the dinner rush when they would need the table.

In retrospect I could have been a bit more social during those years. Among other things, I could have noticed girls .......
If I had actually interacted with the opposite gender it would have most likely been a sweeter adolescence.
No, I probably still would have been oblivious to the sexuality of other people.
Quite unlike today, when it is hard to overlook.
Though given my present life, I'm doing a fine job ignoring my own.

I have a hard time associating the Netherlands with 'sexuality', but considering how overpopulated the place is there must have been quite a lot of that there. Both historically and during the present age.
It isn't as remarkable with humans as it is with cats, though.
Far less yowling and crashing through the undergrowth.


CHAOTIC BEHAVIOUR

When I came back to the United States I was inexperienced in a number of areas. Socially I must have been somewhat of a lead weight, and it is likely that the people around me then didn't know what to do with me.
Certainly I frequently felt that way about them
Over the years that has changed somewhat, but there have always been moments when I preferred the company of trees and felines to that of humans.
I truly enjoy having people nearby, but I don't want to have to interact with them at all times, nor am I as freely talkative as most folks.
Unless they are very likeable individuals.
For that, I'm wide open.
I'll make time.

While living in Berkeley during those early years the sexuality of others was often obvious; American society after the hippie era was more open, more demonstrative, and clearly more blatantly oversexed. It has gotten more so.

In the Netherlands, most drinking establishments were places where people went to socialize over coffee and drinks; in the Bay Area, many bars are the hangout of the sex-deprived, the sexual opportunist, and the deviant hunting for random acts of nookie.
It's a bit disconcerting.

Coffee shops are marginally better, but getting wired to the eye-brows leads to absurd trains of thought and lying awake at night counting the cracks in the ceiling. Plus other patrons, equally animated by caffeine, may impose an unwelcome rant upon the nearest listener.
Naturally I avoid North Beach cafés most of the time.
I also avoid most bars.


I often wish there were a deep grove of trees where I could sit by myself in silence for a while during twilight.
And, if it was mutually agreeable, enjoy the company of someone else.
Then perhaps even crash around the bushes, yowling.
Or something rather like that.
It's a fantasy.



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