Amsterdam

Hated to leave Paris, but we had train tickets. We took a taxi to Gare du Nord, not the prettiest or cleanest of the train stations serving Paris. We grabbed some breakfast while waiting for our train to arrive, then loaded and plopped down for the ride. (We heard from a Memphis friend this morning that there had been a horrific train wreck in Paris.) [You don't hear much about these kinds of wrecks in France, so it was a little disconcerting. Thanks, Robert, for checking on us!]

Our train ride was fairly uneventful, spent napping [that would be me ~vsm] and having breakfast again - and I read a lot and played games on my iPad. We arrived on time in Amsterdam and immediately had to deal with the fact that we don't know that language. Even when they speak English, the street names sound like gobbledygook. Street names like De Lairessestraat don't sound anything like we think they look. 

We managed to get public transit to our hotel. Get this: we are staying in the Hotel Memphis. [Thanks, Pat Stevens, for the recommendation!] No one has said anything about that yet. Seems like we should get a discount. [It seems also that the guy at the GVB - the Amsterdam transit system - should know the best tram to take to get to the hotel. Instead of sending us on one that stops just down the street or one that stops a block away, he sends us on one that is a nice, long walk... And me with a suitcase with a gimpy wheel!]

We walked to a nice neighborhood restaurant area for lunch - and then further on for coffee and people watching. When we came back, Vicki napped and I went down to the bar to try Jenever, the juniper-flavored and strongly alcoholic traditional liquor of the Netherlands from which gin evolved. Good stuff.

After naptime, Vicki and I set out for downtown and dinner. Indonesian restaurants are all around and one was recommended by the highest authority we could find: a clerk in a bookstore who told us that really, Dutch food isn't all that good. [Besides, she said, the Indonesian could be considered Dutch since Indonesia was a Dutch colony! We hit a good spot with some good food that we've never tried before. After dinner, there was more walking... And into a coffee shop, where in Amsterdam they sell marijuana and seeds for hemp, peyote, and more. Needless to say, on the streets on a Saturday night, you can get high just from the second-hand smoke. We stopped for a drink at the Cafe Spui, where I had a Kriek. Dan is jealous because he ordered another janever, but this one was sweet, like a dessert wine, and he didn't like it. He prefers that his alcohol taste like moonshine, I think.]

As we were getting ready to leave, several horse-drawn carriages, filled with adults in early-1900s period dress, drew up and stopped. Our server at the Cafe Spui had no idea what was going on, but the procession stopped public transit (which is unusual; EVERYTHING runs on time here) for abut 10 or 15 minutes. I looked it up online, and there's some annual parade - but I couldn't find any reason for it. Someone said that it could be a period Gay parade... This is, after all, Amsterdam.]

Finally, we walked back via the Red Light district, which was quite boring [it wuld have been great if we were in our 20s, single, high, and/or gay ] except for the pistachio soft-serve ice cream [FINALLY!!!] and the frites (served with mayo). [Dan caught these in a store window:

These are pacifiers with sunglasses attached - or vice-versa. Brilliant!]

And now it is bedtime.

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