Canal Town: Lots of stoned people walking around. The town smells like one big doobie lit up as an offering to the Dope Gods. And then there’s the beer: Heineken vs. Amstel. I’m not sure how Amstel is thought of in Holland (must be good, however), but in America Heineken seems to win. I think it’s the green bottles. Perhaps marketing. Could be taste.
Amsterdam is a fun town through which to walk. The canals that you cross every other block draw unique views from anywhere one might have lived. Bicycles (and the riders who ride trecherously on them) are everywhere. So too cars. Yet there’s peace here, and on some streets, even tranquility can be found.
The family are not worse for wear, since we’ve last seen one another about a year past. Spirits ran high, drink flowed well, talk rose voluminously. We hit the Van Gough museum (great paintings, nice layout), the Heineken Experience (fun but…), lots of little bars (such authenticity and history inside these places—one can almost see Rembrandt sitting at a windowside table quaffing a flaggon of the local brew), a sports bar for the Bears game, and one big English language bookstore.
Out in the countryside, on the rainy Sunday, we visited windmills, a wooden-shoe factory, Edam and its cheese-gelder town, and some small fishing village on the North Sea, in which I dipped my hand; and then proceded to eat some seafood delights along with … another beer!