Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

DISPUTES

n ydepark Corner, in London, is known all over the world because there you can climb onto a soapbox and blurt out to the world whatever you want to say. But did you know that in Amsterdam there used to be not one, but two Hydepark Corners? One was on the Amstelveld on Monday morning, and the other was on the New Market on Saturday night.

The know-it-all's who have been smitten with Leon Tolstoy's pipe-dream that the world wants to be improved, mount their hobby-horses on the Amstelveld in the morning around 10:30 a.m. However, before that hour some early birds already hang around the market. Their only purpose to be there is to disagree with the speakers, but while waiting for their opponents to appear they wander around the stalls and listen idly to the sales talks.

A salesman demonstrates the marvels of a mysterious liquid substance which makes spots and stains disappear from silk in no time at all.

"See it for yourselves," he shouts. "I dip this piece of silk in the spirits of salt. It fades, it becomes blue. The caustic bites into the fabric. I'll have to throw it away, you think.