Sniffle

This morning I thought that I was just recovering from the weekend, but it's official. I have a cold. I am going to batter it to death with Vicks, Strepsils and Lemsip, and stay at home for a few nights:







This probably means that I will be able to catch up with important things like Eastenders and the Blog, and maybe that other thing. That place I go during the day.... eh... yeah. Work.

It's Halloween, and it passed without any evidence. I doubt it's not that big a thing here.

Amsterdam tours: Day 3: Cote De Boeuf

During my morning bowl of porridge....... Disaster strikes. I have run out of espresso.

Hangover without espresso!!!!



I decide, that I will take a morning walk to Museumplein where my bike is, and I can couple it with a trip to Albert Heijn:



I really enjoy my walk. Sometimes it's nice to be without a bike in Amsterdam. Today seems to have turned into an Alice in Chains day:



It's such perfect lazy day music. Maybe becuase Layne Stayley was so gone on heroin. Its wet and squelchy and dripping with atmosphere, perfect for escaping into music:



I'm having so much fun, and the weather is so lovely, that I can't be bothered delving into the busy Albert Heijn. I sit on a park bench on Museumplein and read a book. Maybe I should avoid espresso more often. I'm in such a lazy mood, that I am in no rush to do anything.

Eventually I make it into Albert Heijn, still grooving away to the chilling(In both meanings of the word) music.

Once back at the flat, it's the usual sunday tasks of washing clothes, clearing up, lazing around. I even get to watch Eastenders. Slowly a plan comes together. The Kiwi is kick boxing and Moldova is shopping. So for once we don't meet on Rembrandtplein. This time we choose Dam Square:



We're not sure what to do. Moldova has about 6 days left in Amsterdam, most of them filled with work, but she has seen almost everything there is to see. It's a school night, so we decide to be well behaved and I take them to one of Amsterdam's little Gems; Bistro Bonjour:



Bistro Bonjour is a restaurant run by a turkish family who do french style food at a very good level. Their speciality is meat, and the steak is to die for. Moldova isn't sure at first about the idea of a bloody steak, but I convice her. The weekend has made us good friends, and we are able to talk the whole evening. My boss is also in the restaurant, so we say a quick hello.

When it comes to ordering I opt for Cote De Boeuf, while the Kiwi order's Lamb filet and Moldova follows my lead. She has better French than either the Kiwi or myself, so understands the menu. When the food arrives, the order has been messed up. They have brought me Veal instead. I know it will be tasty so don't kick up much of a fuss, as another Cote De Boeuf would take too long.

We chomp away at our main meals and the others are suitably impressed. The mouthfuls are slowing as we fill up with protein and wine. Then eventually I give in, leaving some of the veg on the plate. As I give in, the owner hanmds me my cote de boeff. He'd cooked one for me anyway:



We share it out, drinking some more wine. Now we really are full. The restaurant has a great atmosphere, so you have no problem having that extra glass of wine and continuing talking and enjoying the food and conversation.

Eventually, our bellies have settled enough to allow us to leave the restaurant. The night is still quite young, but it is a school night, so we decide that rather than head out to a few bars(It could be disasterous), we will have a night walk along the Amstel. It's nice to look out on the skinny bridge by night:



We also resurect a joke from last night by singing "November rain" at the top of our voices:




Not a bad achievement. (Apparently) Quiet Moldovian girl to Amstel-side Kareoke queen in one weekend.

Noapte bună

Amsterdam tours: Day 2 - bikes, burgers and susies

Saturday morning, and the weather is surprisingly good. We are going to try to show Moldova some of Amsterdam which isn't the inside of Bars - lets see if we succeed.

We meet on Rembrandtplein once again.

Although Moldova tells us she has only been on a bike about 4 times in her life, our Amsterdamness dictates that we at least have to try to do a bike tour. We have a few practices on Rembrandtplein. It's quite funny, teaching someone to cycle. Running along holding the saddle while the person shouts "Don't let go!!" I think this is the first time I've done this with an adult.

We wander through the canals to pick up my spare bike. We walk along the Prinsengracht and get a few photos of the bridges and canals:







Autumn is starting to arrive in the trees, and the sun gives Amsterdam a nice glow.

We pick up he bike, and Moldova practices in a small street. It's going to be interesting.

We are going to head for Museumplein. The Rijksmuseum is closed, but it is such a nice day that I think this is a good area of Amsterdam to see. On the way, Moldova takes crashes into about three Amsterdammertjes:



Following this, she nearly crashes into another cyclist, and I get more an more worried that she is going to cycle into the canal, so I decide, that maybe her dreams of winning the Tour De France are over. By the time we get to the busy, Stadthouderskade, we are walking and wheeling the bikes.

We finally land on Museumplein:



It's such a nice day, and there's lots of people enjoying the last of the year's good weather. From here, I'm able to point out some tourist attractions to Moldova:

Van Gogh Museum:



Rijksmuseum:



Concert Gebouw:



We sit and chin wag for a while, and have some drinks to ease our parched throats. We continue to laugh and joke about various things - Expaynsive Payens, Gurrrls - and generally have a good giggle.

We have decided that since The Kiwi has been to the Van Gogh museum twice already this month and that the Rijksmuseum is closed, that we are going to opt for street culture rather than traditional culture.

We have decided to ditch the bikes. We leave them at Museumplein and head for Leidseplein(or Led Zeppelin for the Nederlanderly impaired). It may be the cycling, it may be the weather, or it may be that we didn't have enough porridge for Breakfast, but an overwhelming hunger has struck us.

We stop off for a Hamburger at an Irish bar. The service is terrible and everything seems to take ages to arrive. The weather seems to have caused a mini tourist season for the weekend, and much hilarity is caused by the grumpiness of the Waitresses and their annoyance at having to wear Halloween costumes:



It's getting late in the afternoon, and The Kiwi has started on the Duvels. The phone calls start to be made to plan the evenings activities. Two friends have already joined us, and we have various options. People seem to be congregating at Susies saloon, so we decide to walk along through Leidseplein to there for another night of drinks and merriment.

When we arrive, it's clear that our co-drinkers have already contirbuted significant money to the bar's takings. We have a Kiwi girl, Dagenham Dave and a congregation of Danish people. It's wonderful to be sitting outside when it is nearly November. One of the Dane's is actually Macedonian. He has a little russian which he tries out on Moldova. She later tells me that she can't understand him. He doesn't speak any english, and the danes tell me that his Danish isn't that hot. The Kiwi however has found a new alcohol enhanced linguistic fortitude, and communicates with him all night. They both appear to be unaware that the other doesn't speak their language. It's another good night of laughs and jokes, and Moldova seems to be relaxing into Amsterdam life.

When it comes to walking Moldova to her tram, I decide to call it a night and take a tram home myself. The only adventure left for the night are a group of drunk russians outside my flat who I have a drunken conversation with in Russian. We are 10 minutes into the conversation before I realise they speak english and I can stop using my russian; Koshka(Cat), Dobri Utro(Good Morning), Dos Vedanya(Goodbye), Koreata(Cool).

доброй ночи

Amsterdam tours: Day 1 - The red lights of Amsterdam

Friday night has arrived again. I'm not long back from London, but we have the task of showing the Moldovian Girl around Amsterdam.

Purely for the ease of mutual transport connections we meet at RembrandtPlein. From here we can head to the Centre and bypass some of the prettier views, such as the Amstel:



From here, we head along through the canals towards the Red Light District. We stop for a refreshing beer at Susie's Saloon:



I should have known we'd be back here.....

We have one slow beer and get a good chin wag - get to know each other. Moldova has good theoretical english, but she is a little under practiced. This raises a few laughs, as she points out the ridiculous way that Scots and Kiwi's pronounce certain words. This gives us some good running jokes for the weekend.

I've heard this before. Scots roll their r's, so "Girl" becomes "Gurrl" or something like that. Moldova starts out quite quiet and timid, but soon she is taking the piss out of me for this like one of the lads. The equivalent's in kiwi speak(Apart from the obvious use of "Bro" instead of full stops):

Pen= Payen
Expensive = Expaynsive
Never = Nayver

Hence the running joke sentance "I have nayver bought an expaynsive payen"

We head from here to the Red Light District. Moldova is keen to see it as one of the sights of Amsterdam. We do the standard tour which I've done so many times, and generallly have good long walk and talk as we marvel at the lights and shops and play the "Spot which one used to be a man" game:



We eventually find ourselves on the Damrak, and for want of something better to do. We head for the Gollem. We felt it was a good way to introduce Moldova to Amsterdam bar life. On the way we manage to find the bar that the Kiwi girl works in(I think it may be a bar that you can only find - not go to), so we stop in for a Tequilla slammer. This is apparently closer to what they would drink in Moldova, but the bar is busy, and we aren't all moldovian, so we head for something we're a little more used to.

When we get to the Gollem, we meet a Bulgarian friend that Moldova knows, so we all feel quite at home. We sample a few beers by recomendation of the Bulgarian, and have some good conversations. Eventually, it's time for bed, so we head off and agree to continue the conversations at another time over another beer.

On the road again: Quick trip to London

Having though that traveling adventures were over for a few weeks, I found out late Monday afternoon that my boss wanted me instead of him to go to london for a conference. Normally I would baulk at a trip to hectic london full of people rushing along on the human conveyor belt, but there's a friend I want to look up, so I take the chance(I'm not sure I had the option)

London to a Scotsman is a god awful place. It's not foreign enough to be interesting, and it's too foreign to be home. Everyone moves too fast, it's too busy, and the locals are fond of that whiney english accent that sends chills up a Scotsman's spine - it's kind of an instilled racism

I've been to London a few times before. My father's brother's live down there, so I've seen most of the sites through family holidays years ago. Since then, I've attended the odd meeting or conference, and it's been okay - but ultimately it's still London.

I get a reasonably long lie before I head off to the airport. Saturday was the 15th Anniversary of Pearl Jam's first show, so I listen to the bootleg as the tram trundles along the familiar route to Amsterdam Centraal:





The bootleg I have starts with the Mamasan trilogy. This was a three track instrumental demo tape which Stone Gossard(PJ Guitarist and founder) gave to Jack Irons(Former drummer of Red Hot Chili Peppers) with a view to hiring him to join the band which was rising from the ashes of Mother Love Bone. Jack Irons gave it to a mate of his who he played basketball with called Eddie Vedder. Ed dubbed vocals onto the tape, creating the tracks, Alive, Once and Footsteps. He went off to seattle, and thus history was made.

The trilogy tells the story of a boy who found out that his father wasn't his real father, and that his real father was family friend who died.(Alive) That's what happened to Ed. After this we move into poetic license. "Once" tells the story of the boy who confused with life becomes a serial killer and can't find the answers to the questions which plagued him. Footsteps is a lovely acoustic B-side which tells of the serial killer on Death row who hears his mother's footsteps in the hall, but she can't make it all the way along to visit him.

These three songs show the strength of Pearl Jam; seventies based guitar rock with great musicianship and blistering solos(Alive), foot to the floor punk influence rockers(Once) and delicate beautiful acoustic which show that the emotion is real(Footsteps).

Anyway - it gets me from home to Schiphol. This is the first time since Copenhagen that I've been off travelling alone, and I have to say it feels great to be back on the road. The train's, planes and buses don't bother me, providing I've got something to read and and an iPod to listen to. Purely by chance, I picked a novel at random from my bookshelf of unread books and end up with "Tooth & Nail" by Ian Rankin:



It's main theme is that of John Rebus the scottish detective feeling out of place when working in London, so it's quite apt.

By now, I'm on the very quick(45 minute) journey to London gatwick, I barely have time to select a new album on my iPod before, we landed, and I'm shuffling onto a train to central London. My main objective on the train(Apart from tappping my feet to Guns N' Roses) is to work out where my hastily booked hotel is in relation to where my train lands(Victoria). My knowledge of London is terrible, but without any hitches, I manage to take the circle line to Notting Hill gate to reach my hotel around Portabello Road.

London is strange, it seems like you've heard almost every street, underground or district in a television programme or film, but you're not really sure of the significance of it. If I had lots of time, I would get off at various stops on the underground just to see what that area was about.

It's late by the time I've settled, so I head of to Marks and Spencer(British food!!!!), to get a snack before heading off to a bar with a scottish paper. It feels very British. I have a quiet pint and enjoy reading my paper, before heading back for an early night.

The next day, I take it slowly again. I need to be in hammersmith. London is manageable if you take it nice and slow and are not tempted to try to keep up with the rest of the communters. My whole london trip is like this, and it passes quite quickly.

My flight back is early in the morning and from London Luton. I need to make it back to Amsterdam for a meeting. I'm up at 5am, and heading by public transport to the North of London. It takes forever, but once I'm awake, I settle into it. Reading my book, grooving to pink floyd and generally people watching.

A real uper class tory comes on the train. He is a characterture of himself. He displays an air of authority and money. The blue blazer with the gold buttons and the daily mail under his arm. If he is as wonderful and upper class as he thinks... What is he doing on second class??

At one station two girls get on the train. They have clearly just come froma club and provide a stark contrast to the brain dead fast asleep commuters. I'm not sure where they had been, but although it is late October, they are wearing hot pants, bikini tops and feather boas. The Black girl has an absolutely wonderful bum and she's dancing and waving it around. I can't help giggling as Mr.Dailly Mail humphs and disapproves, while his eyes stray to look at her backside. London - indeed a cosmpolitan city.

..... well, it wasn't as bad as I thought, I'll have less dread in visiting London in the future.....

The Shamrock

Tonight we are off to a bar in the West of Amsterdam. A friend of mine runs Jam session's there, and they are having a benefit night, so they asked me to head along.

I take The Kiwi to see the other side of Amsterdam. It's a far stretch from the tourist bars of the centre, and the clientele tend to be ex-pat nutters, who have woken up several years ago in Amsterdam and decided to stay.

The jam session's can be good fun, and I've joined in a couple of times, but it gets a little repetitive(just like being in a band), so I wouldn't want to go every week. It's probably over a years since I've been though, so I can't complain.

When we arrive, you can barely get in the door. It's a popular Sunday night drinking venue, and the benefit has made it even more so. We have a pint of Guinness outside the pub and wait for my Dutch colleague who was out with us on Friday night.



It's an Irish bar, so the Guinness is pretty good. By the time my colleague arrives, the bar has got busier and the music has got louder, so we head across the road to another bar and have a few drinks there. The local worthies have recently had a lads trip to Glasgow, so they are keen to tell me all about it. They seem to have enjoyed themselves. We generally have a good laugh, and The Kiwi is shocked when a Dutchman buys us a beer(They are famously stingy)

Eventually we head over the road again, and listen to the music for a bit, but we don't stay for long, as it's a school night.

Yet another pub conquered.......

Saturday night in the other Gollem

Another quiet saturday. we are getting very heavy rain, so the will to leave the house and take to the weather beaten streets with a hangover is not strong. Our German friend who was in Japan for a month got back yesterday, so she comes over for a cuppa, saving us from leaving the house for want of something to do.

It's Saturday night, and we feel we should be off out on a great adventure, but it just doesn't seem to be happening tonight. Maybe this is the start of the depressing amsterdam winter where people party and socialise less and the city winds down to recover from the tourist heavy summer. We're going to settle on a few beers with the lads at the 2nd Gollem. It's good night of talking about nothing which ends reasonably early.

I get soaked on the way home.

The one good thing that came out of the night is that we introduced The Kiwi to the "Don't mention the war" episode of Fawlty Towers:



Cleese: "Everyone stop talking about the war!!!"
German:"You started it"
Cleese: "No I didn't. You invaded Poland"

Comic Genius(Even though it is a little racisit)

Slaap Lekker.....

Friday night in the gollem

I had a bitch of a week at work. I had my plate full, and my boss was out of the country, so there was less of the camraderie, and more of the head down, music blaring, smoke coming off the keyboard atmosphere. By the time I'm finished the week, I'm glad it's friday. I head home to fill my belly ready for a weekend on the town. I've not enjoyed work allw eek, so I know I'm going to be keen to make the most of the weekend.

Eventually the phone calls are made, and we are heading for the Gollem. No-one could make up their mind, so we kind of gravitated towards there:



I'm going to have to stop writing about it here. It is the busiest I've ever seen it. Even worse, I think we know more than half the people in the bar. I'm late, so I have my first few beers standing on the street, where my parents phone from America where they are visiting my sister. I'm am on the St. Bernardus tonight:



There is yet another Kiwi visiting, and all the kiwi's in the bar inevitably know him via some drinking mate. All the usual suspects are here, Bulgarian friends, Work colleagues, new friends, old friends, flatmates - the lot. The drink flows, and it really feels like a friday night.

After a long night of getting rid of the memories of a week of work, someone suggests we go and visit a small bar where one of the kiwi girls has started working. It's a new bar on me, and I can't remember the name.(we took so many wrong turnings to get there, I can barely remember the location), but I'm sure we'll be in there again.

Before long, I'm ready to cycle home. Friday nights are frustrating - you want to party all night, but your body just wnats to sleep.

Back in the Kitchen: Multicultural dinner

Following on from a spring cleaning session to while away a hangover and our Sunday night sesh in Belgique, tonight I am hosting a Multicutural dinner. Present will be delegates from Scotland, Bulgaria, Moldovia and New Zealand.







The menu originally intended to reflect lots of samples of the cuisine from these nations, but I failed in an attempt cook meringues, so the New Zealand dish of Pavlova went tits up.(Let's be honest, the failure was predicated on my attempt to rush things and get a last orders beer in before bad after slaving away in the kitchen) So the menu is as follows:

Oatcakes and cheese:


Scotch Broth:


Then the main courses, was a kind of Tapas of various things:

Shopska Salata:


Moldovian Potato Salad:


Butter bean Bulgarian Hot Pot(I misread the ingredients, so it turned out to be green bean)


Bulgarian Tarator:


And of course......

Haggis:


The music for the evening is also multicultural, I've scoured the library and come up with various traditional and pop music from all the countries, this includes:

National Anthems,
Crowded House
Split Endz
O-Zone
Wikeda
The Proclaimers

By the time that lot is eaten up, no one has any room for the desert options, so we settle for an Irish Coffee:



Everyone seems to be pretty satisfied, and we arrange to show the Moldovian girl some of Amsterdam during her stay, as the Bulgarian Bride and Obi Wan are off to Sofia on Saturday.

Belgique

It's a late start on Sunday after our Hilarious Saturday night. I play some guitar, cook a curry, watch the eastenders omnibus, and then get a phone call from the Bulgarian bride. She's in the centre meeting some friend's for a drink and they are meeting at 6.30pm on Dam Square:



A quick phone call to The Kiwi tells him to go there after kick boxing instead of home.

The Bride has a colleague staying with her for a week while she carries out a placement. She is from Moldovia, so I can tick off another country in my book of friends. Also present is Obi Wan and a Bulgarian friend from the wedding.

Tonight we are targeting Belgique:



Belgique is a small Belgian beer bar which nestles in the heart of Amsterdam's busy shopping street up a back alley. It is so small that it only has about 8 seats, luckily, the building across the road has scaffolding on it and they have hung hammocks from it. We claim some hammocks and then Obi Wan and I hit the bar.

He takes great delight in acting as waiter for the first roun of Kwak's as the beer comes in a very strange glass:



We swing from the hammock's and enjoy the fine beer. Obi wan is teaching us Dutch. The Kiwi asks:

"Heb jouw een grote slaapkamer?" = "do you have a large bedroom"

The Bride declares "He's leading the witness!". The Kiwi already knows that Obi Wan has a large bedroom, where each corner represents a different planet for lego spaceships to fly to:



Before long, it's time for the Diemenites, to head southwards, and The Kiwi, the Bulgarian and I stay for a few more beers before we head home to eat the curry and hit the hay. Before we hit the hay we have partaken in the following beers:

Amsterdam's own Zatte:


A Chimay blue:


And a St. Bernardus: