Amsterdam Travel Blog› entry 1 of 1 › view all entries
Current mood: High
Category: Travel and Places
And so after a gruelling long haul 45 minute flight and a cross country 20 minute train ride Kyra and I finally arrived at Amsterdam's Central Station – only to be greeted on the platform by a person who had collapsed and was most probably dead considering the amount of medical staff around him / her. Not a good omen to the start of a trip, don't you think? It sparked a little debate between Kyra and I as to whether the person was an old dude or an old chick, you can never quite tell when they get to that age, but we finally agreed that it was a shemale / geezer bird. After all, the person in question wasn't in a fit state to answer what exactly it was even if we did put the question to it. Cor imagine that, you're final last words on this planet before you die is not some words of wisdom, or 'tell little Timmy I love him', but instead telling a couple of tourists whether you're a male of female.
As if we hadn't done enough travelling already, we then set off on the 10 minute trek to find the hotel we'd be staying at. We got there pretty much trouble free and after enquiring to the owner about staying in room for an extra night, blimey, he's only gone and offered us a big apartment room with kitchen, shower, an open lounge all in the Red Light District for the same price we'd be paying for the (now) shitty hotel room. What a result eh? I mean screw the room; he could have given me a cardboard box for all I care, but being in the Red Light District? Pukka! Just give me the keys to the cardboard box and I'll see you in 3 days.
Off we set again on another gruelling 10 minute hike this time to our even newer place of residence and find it's an
We headed to the Bloomenmarkt which was a right disappointment and a half. It's a floating flower market, that's what they said it was. What bollocks. They had put into my head this image of me getting into a canoe with some 4 foot Tai man who then uses a big stick to take us to this stall that bobs up and down in the water because it is floating. What did I get instead I hear you ask. Instead all I got was a few market stalls constructed on a platform that was solid enough to hold the weight of the Elephant Man and his elephant ancestors. Floating my arse, that had to be the most misleading text ever – after that drinks company Coke.
After a couple of days in The Dam Kyra suggested going to a beach town her ma' had recommended visiting. Why not I thought, and soon we were heading to a town called Zandvoort to see for myself the unbelievable rumour that this beach is better than the infamous cobble stoned beach we have over here in
A couple of days before getting to The Dam I discover another mate, Jed, was heading there too. Hello mate! We've met up with him and another cool Aussie called Tom and done a bit of tourist bollocks before finding a smart shop to pick up some organic mushrooms cos I've heard they're, er, good for you. Back to the apartment we go to have a munch on them and fuck me, did they taste like shite. Not even whacking them in my beef and salad bagel made much difference. Yes they were a nasty piece of work. Even the following night we bought a tub of humus, cos everything tastes good with humus, and even then whilst it tasted better, it was still a bit iffy. Then we found out it was the actually humus that wasn't up to Tesco standards but anyroad, they did make the shrooms more edible, so don't be surprised if the combination turns up in Jamie Oliver's Summer Recipes 2007 edition.
Right, where was I after all that? Ah yeah, in the room we're having a chinwag, enjoying the view from the window, Tom taking the odd photo of the window women, yes YOU TOM, haha, and generally pissing about waiting for the shrooms to kick in. And then they did. It was a bit of a giggle… actually it was a lot of a giggle. In fact, all we did was giggle until we decided we'd go for a walk and get an overpriced coffee in one of those stupid cups served in the size of a shot glass. Downstairs going out of our front door I have 'Miss Window Woman I've Been Staring At All Day' suddenly up in my face shouting her head off in some funny accent. Not sure where she's from but the first thing I was to learn from the following experience is a foreign woman sounds sexy when she's angry. Anyroad, there she is banging on about in broken English 'Why you take photo? Why you take photo?' whilst I'm there staring at her head which is merging into all these weird and wonderful shapes. At first I didn't have a scooby’s what she was on about. I tell her I didn't take any photo and before I can imagine to myself that I've totally resolved the situation and everybody's going to be only their way as happy bunny's, she's gone and given me a right slap across the face. Now I could be wrong, but to add insult to injury I think it was one of those back handed bitch slaps that pimps do to their women in American films. Unfortunately the organic mushrooms had an effect to my usual cobra snake like reactions and I wasn't able to defend myself Shaolin Monk style before my right cheek became rosie red. My first typical male reaction was to think 'I'm not paying for that' and I turned around to walk off and claim my free spanking off a genuine
We headed back towards the Red Light on our way back to our apartment which now involved a military strategic operation that involved me getting through my front door without the bunny boiler window woman coming after me for round two. After all, she did have a thing for me didn't she? We walk the long way around the block, again very slowly, and the moment I saw our front door tunnel vision set in and all my focus and energy went into getting through it before the girl next door laid eyes and fists on me again. I would have run for it but probably would have fallen over. But I did make it, there wouldn't be this blog otherwise, and in the room we stayed getting absolutely wasted.
The food in The Dam was proper nice… and in some areas proper stomach churning. Take for instance the humble hot dog – a nice fat beefy sausage with fried onions in a white fluffy bread bun and a choice of tomato sauce and mustard for preference. Mmmm, makes me all hungry thinking about it. But then I think about
Enough of foods already, let's get back to
Other parts of the tourism was visiting the Torture Museum, walking about 3 miles to get to a brewery that wasn't in fact a brewery – bastards. Getting to the entrance of the