The slope

When the ferry hit the land, the soft sound of a music beat could be heard afar. Other than that, the only other sound was the rain, that had been poring down all day. The slope was surrounded by fences, with one opening for the entrance where security guards were checking bags and visitors for hidden drugs.

The slope, where once ships went into water, this time was home to Henk on the Slope. Where on other days ordinary people shopped for bargains on a flea market, and where once a year beautiful theatre performances from Over 't IJ festival play, now there were dj sets, party tents and bars that sold beer, wine, coke and vodka. In a corner on top of the slope, a long line of people waited for the grilled vegetables, hamburgers and pasta salads to get ready.

Apart from my clothes, that were soaking wet and that made me want to go home and take a hot shower more than anything, I didn't like the dance and trance music that was typical to this festival. I wondered why I let my friend persuade me into going, or why I accepted her invitation and left my cosy and warm home for this cold and noise. My friends new boyfriend was the reason. Henk op de helling isn't only music beats and drinks, there are also art project, among which The Fisherman (Den Visscher) from Piet. Piet, who walked around in a green fishermen suit, his blond hair tied in a tail. Other people suspected him to be Henk. Piet told his story in a little boat, for which you had to climb a long ladder to enter it and that fitted seven people but only with their legs pulled in, who would listen to him. One of those people was Paul, a twenty year old who looked at me with wide open pupils and started an incoherent story about his passion,that consisted of partying, drinking and taking pills.



Next to Piets boat, there was a poetry stage, where writers and poets mumbled their thoughts into a mic, in front of a tribune that was filled with people who sought shelter from the weather and weren't really interested in poetry. "This is so tiring," the girl next to me sighed to her friend. Both of them were wearing short skirts and t-shirts, and had pulled their hair in a ponytail. they were eating some grilled vegetables. And while the wind blew the rain along the slope, they jumped up and slowly walked to the party tents. I found shelter in the little boat of Piet, where my clothes dried while we drank juttersbitter. Like you should on a boat.