Casa Robino

As i looked around the room for one final head count i was filled with a sense of wonder as i realised the total had reached a record breaking 36 people. Not only had we managed to squeeze that amount of people into a two bedroom apartment but we had also managed to feed all of them from the dumpster. As the food we had spent all day preparing quickly disappeared and the satisfied smile of those who have been well fed crossed everyone's mouths i thought how incredible it is to live here and be around so many good people.

Dear Casa,

bumping into you was like diving my head into the wizard's ball. I have seen an underworld teeming with life that I had no idea could exist. But soon I had to breathe in again, and everything faded out in the edge between dream and reality. Hugs, voices and smell of home-baked bread. Was it really real?

I have given too little of myself and taken too little of yourself. It does not end here, my dear, bewitching Casa.

Diego

When I arrived

everybody was out dumpsterdiving for the open dinner, Robino was standing in the kitchen making bread.

Sunshine flooded the kitchen, there was the smell of the bread-mixture, nice music, all peaceful, and everything was

JUST FINE.

It was a beautiful, typical Dutch day: sunny, then clouds and rain, and back to sunny again. And, we were enjoying it at the one-and-only and most gezellig Amsterdam party of the year: de Roots-festival. Great food, wonderful people, and four stages in Oosterpark, with a large variety of bands from here and everywhere: flamenco, rap, reggae, ska, and anything else that comes with roots.

While the last band played we danced wildly, as if a storm was brewing, threatening to destroy our party. Let's enjoy this through the very end. And... so it went.

On the train I wrote a letter home to friends and family describing my time at the casa. I've pasted it here for everyone's enjoyment (minus the part where I talked about how much I secretly hated everybody).

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Wow, so, where to begin...

We would love to thank you all for letting us film la casa, the open dinner and all of you who participated in it last week Thursday!
For those who were wondering why there was a camera running but left without a clue: we are making films about alternative ways of traveling via online hospitality communities around the world. Kicking the Amsterdam episode off by visiting Casa Robino.
We could not have wished for a more warm and welcome start.
Thank you Robin and all others in the casa!

They thaught us how to make bread, and just when we were ready to do our own pasta madre tripping performance live with an audience, they had to leave again, just before the real fun was starting. "Coitus interruptus" they called it.

We were at Damoclash, an Amsterdam based free culture festival (with pizza's for 7 euro) and we were about to give away 15 kilo of bread, but who was gonna make all that bread?

Over the last two weeks I ended up meeting people with fairly different backgrounds.
"Louis" from Kurdistan, living in the parallel universe just next wall from casa, hosted our family last Thursday. To celebrate the event, we ate wine leaves stuffed with rice and meat, almost breaking the guideline number one of the casa (no death animals). I say almost because the few food left has been saved over the balcony and eaten there the next day.

"My first day at "Casa Robino," I asked where the bathroom was. Simple question, I thought; it should have a simple answer. "Just open all the doors - you'll find it," was the simple reply", is how Charlie the First Brigham the Fourth, aka Caveman, starts his latest entry on his website. What Caveman writes is what comes closest to any description of what actually takes places in this casa, and is a must read for all who is coming here for the first time. Enjoy, here it is. "No hand-holding, no directing; power and responsibility are refreshingly balanced in the Casa."

And for those who want more of Caveman, here goes a nice video:

The casa was my only reason to come to Amsterdam and had a lot to do with why I stayed. For the most part, I was unaware of the fact that I was living in Holland (except for the weather, which kept me grounded). In fact, I was not living in the Netherlands at all; I was living in the casa, whether inside or outside of it. In casa, I could dare to be myself and witness the reflection in others. In casa, I grew a family. In casa, I could travel by means of standing still. Stand still senza stand-by: motionless change, seamless nomadism, boundless voyage.