When I first headed out here, I was afraid that this would turn into a travelogue as soon as I hit the ground...little did I know that my travel writing skills rival those of your average High Times contributor. You'd think it'd be easy wouldn't you?
Step 1: Do Amazing Things.
Step 2: Write about Amazing Things.
How hard is that? Very, very hard. Spu, now Spu can write mad travelogues, travelogues that take hours to read, travelogues that eat up entire workdays, travelogues that make you hate Spu very, very much.
Mine always end up along the lines of "Yeah, so today I did [X] and it was awesome, especially when we saw [Y]."
On the other hand, I was in Amsterdam a couple weeks ago, and since (most of) you suckers weren't, I get to gloat. Amsterdam, despite (or perhaps because of) the debauchery, is a place best enjoyed with a posse...smoking mad cheeba just isn't the same without some back up. Jess, who (to judge by her This is My Europe Trip e-mails) badly needs a weblog, and I had been playing travel tag for the last month and a half, and we finally met up just before she had to head back to the land of Last Call and the Drug War. Amsterdam puts so much effort into being the capital of sin that things that would be momentous anywhere else just fade into the red lights. Yes, it's amazing to be able to buy a bag of White Widow from the counter of a coffeeshop, but what do you expect in a city where the traffic barriers are embossed with 'XXX'?
We went to check out the Van Gogh Museum on Saturday morning, and it was awesome, especially when we saw the Van Goghs.
Jess had to head out that afternoon, so once she was on the train, I did some wandering in the Red Light District. If you're from Winnipeg (which 90% of you aren't), imagine the Village squared, then doubled. If you're from Ottawa, imagine the Byward Market, without the class. Around dusk some of the hostel people and I booked a canal cruise through the white out fog that descends on the city once the sun goes down. The fog hides the layer of grime that covers everything, and lets you see how beautiful the solid walls of canal houses that line the banks are. About halfway through, we ended up getting rammed by another cruise, and got treated to a great pissing match between the two captains.
Once we were safely back on land, I headed over to Cassa Rosso for the obligatory Sex Show. I've never been big on strippers, but Amsterdam is famous for boats, drugs, and whores, and who am I to neglect an essential part of a city's milieu? Despite how hyper-sexed our culture has become, it's still rare to two people fucking in the flesh (so to speak). If anyone knows of a show where the performers are actually enjoying themselves, let me know, and I'll check it out when I go back, but this was basically Strip Club 2.0: Now With Boy-in-Girl Action.
Sunday was pretty tame by comparison, with a little shopping (not that I needed anything, it just felt good to wander through shops on Sunday after three months in CatholicLand: The Uptightest Place on Earth), and a visit to the Anne Frank Museum.
Every other place I've been over here, I've left knowing that I'll have to go back and get deeper into the city...Amsterdam was a bit of a different vibe. There isn't really anything of stunning importance that I missed while I was there, but I'll definitely go back when it comes time to take a vacation from my state of mind. I guess that's the moral of the story...Amsterdam isn't necessarily about What's There, it's more about What's Permissible There.

I went looking for the Bastille today, got lost, found the best bakery I've ever been to, got lost again, and found Notre Dame. Tomorrow: Seeeeeegway mu'fuckahs!

I just realized that I'm probably the only one on the UW Bloggers ring that can post right now. What's strange is that their loss of air conditioning nicely coincided with the cessation of my need for it. Tonight is the first night in weeks that I'll get any sleep in this godforsaken sauna, thanks to a storm that's been brewing for at least two days...you could feel the entire city twitching at every thunder-esque noise, just begging for some rain.

I had to break into my apartment this morning. In a building where I'm illegally subletting. With no ID on me. With no shirt. With no shoes. With no phone. In a city where I'm avoiding a traffic charge.
Good times, good times.

If only you knew how long I'd been plotting to work that London Calling reference in, you'd...well, you'd probably think I was obsessive and more than a little weird, which is fine (and reasonably accurate to boot).
Weekend before last, I made the pilgrimage mentioned in the post from the 30th, and the jet-lag was everything that I'd ever dreamed of. To be fair, I didn't get a huge amount of sleep over the weekend, but when I got back to Munich, I was a good long way from functional. I've flown around a lot over the years, but this was incredibly nasty...I don't think I've ever had real jet-lag before.
Travel issues aside, it was mad to see the family again, especially with some fresh meat around.
I should probably explain that one...Conversation in my family is, shall we say, competitive. Not really Monopoly-competitive either...more Shootfighting-competitive. That said, my parent's oldest and dearest friends were at the lake with us, and their daughter brought along her boyfriend of a year or so. I'm not sure if he was briefed on the rules before he arrived, but he more than held his own in the afternoon warm up matches, and acquitted himself better than any previous outsider in the ten-way dinner table cage match. We were most impressed.