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The Dam of Amstel

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The famiglia caravan arrived here yesterday, having said goodbye to the senior Seriousimos in London.

 This is our wee Amster house. Seriousimo hates it because he only “does” hotels. Bad luck. Who books wins. 

 La was feeling higgledy-piggledy as an inadequately-underpinned canal house this morning pre-coffee. Eventually found this bean palace:

 …but then was in a really bad one when I realised it didn’t open til 9. Grouchy traveling lady. 

 Not sure I’ll be getting the locks groomed here anytime soon. Imagine the exchange. Me: “Straight blow dry, thanks, with a bit of height at the crown, then could you please whizz through with the GHDs for some beachy waves?” Stylist: “Who cares.”

 Seriousimo was even more zipped up than usual against the chilly Lowlands breezes. He likes to channel haute-Gestapo fashion when he’s back in old Europa. I’m constantly trying to get him to move with the fashion times. “Pants have changed, you need to change too!” La bellowed at him recently as I thrust a pair of Country Road denim ‘joggers’ at him (elasto waist, elasto ankles). They were returned. 
 This men’s fash emporium might be just the go for him. Suitable. (Read: BORING.)

Had some amazing pintxos at Oliva last night – holy mother of gods they were delicious. Why has the pintxos tradition not taken off at home? Time to move. 

  
Because carny-built contraptions exist to scare the bejeezers out of me the world over, I somehow let the wee lady loin fruit talk me onto the giant swing that zsjoozsjles (made up my own Dutch word) you 60 metres above Amsterdam in Dam Square. Holy shitballs, it was bowel-voidingly frightening. This is how close we came, on a major angle, to the Ferris Beuller wheel:
 As the girl hollered for joy like a puppy in a convertible I made bargains with the deity about being a kinder, more selfless person, and promised to visit the old people’s home and sign up to replace flowers at the local church if s/he got me down safely. 

Rewarded myself with these:  Poffertjes. And didn’t share one. Will start holding up my end of the celestial bargain to be a nicer person tomorrow. 

  Srsly, that was me up there.

  
  Was beyond excited to see an Amsterdam house hook being used.

  And almost wept with sadness that I don’t live in this beautiful city where I could by my beloved parrot tulips for less than $20. 

Off to ride bikes in the Vondelpark, dressed – as is my wont – for summer on this sub 10-degree day, and sporting utterly inappropriate footwear. 

Vaarwel
 

2 responses »

  1. I can’t believe you went on that chair whizzler! You’re amazing. Crazy, but amazing.

    I think we may have stayed in the same canal house 10.5 years ago.

    Eat some Indonesian food somewhere near the “local” red light district I think. There’s a Little Indo area. Best Indonesian I’ve ever had outside of Indo was in Holland. X

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

    Reply
  2. Pingback: Sveiki! | La Trivialista

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