Café Gollem / Amsterdam / Netherlands
Café Gollem is a hard-rock dark haven of Dutch coziness on a cold day, and a lonely cave for bad decision makers on a sunny one. Today is the latter. People with any sense are sitting on the canals basking in glorious bright sun. I am not, and I did not feel at all lonely, until I sat down in a dark bar on a sunny day. I might have chosen a different path. Might have, but didn’t. There was no one to advise me otherwise. I peruse the daunting beer list, which wraps around most of the room, written in chaulk, and take my chances on a Belgian tripel on the bar tender’s informed recommendation. Saint Bernardus, is one of the 11 Tripels offered, and one of more than 150 beers total. I can't imagine where they keep that many beers here, the room is only slightly bigger than my living room. But it does have multiple levels, so l envision some deep cool cave of dusty bottles down below. This, like all my favorite Amsterdam haunts, feels as much like a boat as a building. Dark wood with centuries of grit ground in. Hands from every epoch of Dutch history have used these same handrails. You'd be disappointed if they were cleaned. Stairs up to the half level loft, and down to the bathroom. The toilet is too tall for anyone. Except perhaps the full grown Dutch man who built it. But you still duck to get back up the stairs.
One guy runs the house today, it’s a small house, and any would-be drinkers are doing so anywhere outside. He wears a Stone Temple Pilot concert tee, from that amount of time ago, and his playlist is essentially all of Nirvana’s Nevrmind punctuated with songs that were influenced by it. He knows his beers and has valuable comments on each one of them. Between elucidating, he steps out for a smoke in the sun.
It’s a tall and narrow alley, Raamsteeg, which is probably about half of why I like it here. But it catches some sun at this time of day, at this time of year. He stretches his head back as if to sun his neck, though all of him needs it. He steps back into the cave behind the next customer, to dispense to them knowledge, and beer. Other times of year there would be no sun to catch, not at any time or angle. Those days Gollem is not lonely, but vibrant.
St Bernardus, by the graphic, is a happy little Trappist. If he is lonely he doesn’t look it. He may not have a woman, but he’s got a good strong Tripel. Good trade? If the point of monastic celibacy was singular devotion to God, is beer a less demanding partner? Arguably no. I don’t know about him, but for me, I don’t think distractions are what is keeping me from greater enlightenment. I like most of mine, and would choose to keep them. I had never seriously considered being a Trappist until I had this beer. Would my spiritual depth increase if I were? I guess not. I think other, more monk-ish distractions would arise, and I would remain the same percentage of distracted. From Vigils to Vespers in reflection and prayer seems like a reach for me. I’m still working on 20 minutes. I wonder what happens after that.
I know nothing about monasticism, But I believe the idea is that having a wife and kids necessarily becomes your central focus, without them you are free to focus everything on spiritual pursuit. It's a choice for a small number, with no illusion of it being the more righteous choice. But since I went full-send through door number two, I only have a view from here. From this position, I can’t, with a straight face, refer to my wife and kids as distractions. They seem the opposite. They are the center from which I don’t want to be distracted. They are the only reason I remember to pray sometimes. They are the reason I need to, my impetus for challenging my assumptions, the reason I evaluate my behavior, or reflect on much of anything. They are why I know I need help.
Well look what I’ve done. It seems I have inadvertently perfectly stated the case for monasticism. So I reckon they have a point, even if it’s a trade I would never make, no matter how good the beer. Regardless, this was certainly not a topic I intended to cover today, so thanks to St Bernardus! Your old ideas have lived on, and reached this little brown bar in Amsterdam. But now your fine bottle of beer is empty, and my 20 minutes of reflective capacity are spent, so I’ll be on my way. I have genuinely appreciated our time together. I’ll be back to visit again soon.
I make my way down from the loft just as several more people step in from the alley. It won’t stay lonely for long here. I don’t regret my decisions, neither my choice of bars today, nor my path in life.
Door one is closed and locked for me. But now I know this: that if I didn't have a good strong woman, I’d take the trippel as a consolation. In fact, as for me, and for my spiritual health, I’ll take both.
* My real picture of St Bernardus somehow disappeared forever. This guy is a non-copyright violating ai rendering. The “real” one was no more real, as he was not modeled after any such real monk, but a representation of the Trappist Monks in general. But the “real” one looks far more genuine, and the bot, through many efforts could not give this one any more depth. Retaking the original picture is all the incentive I need to revisit Café Gollem soon.