Friday...... A Gollem, A Bhudda and some beers...

After a graze stinging shower, I'm off to work again... to end what seems to have been a very long week of burning the candle at both ends.

I'm meeting Paprika for lunch... we have several things to do, but first we sit down for some food on Kalverstraat with her and my boss:



After we are fed and watered, we head to Maison de Bonnieterrie to try on some Tommy Hilfiger clothes. Tomorrow, we are going to the Factory sale, and I want to se what size Tommy Hilfiger thinks my waist is following my healthy living and gym attendance.



It's good fun nipping in and out of the changing rooms in Maison de Bonnieterrie. It's not, but it masquerades as being posh, so the staff are on you like flys on a shite as soon as you show a passing interest in clothes. Paprika does a good job of massaging the staff's belief in commission while I ascertain that I can fit into a 34" pair of jeans again(it's been a few years)

After this, we head to a little Tibeten shop. Paprika has been fascinated by the bhudda around my neck which has fuelled many a kerouac/morrison inspired cod-philosophy discussion, so I want to get her something similar.





I got my Bhudda from a friend of my sisters. She was living and working in Phucket, Thailand for the year:



A drunken man started a conversation about Bhuddism with me... I kept up with him in both Singha beers, and also in drunken philosophy, while being determined that he wasn't getting scissors anywhere near my hair. At the end of the holiday he gave everyone in my family a Bhudda. Mine has been round my neck through thick and thin for about 8 years now. It kind of reminds me to stay chilled, be aware that what I'm worried about is probably only in my mind, and that I'm in control of my future and my destiny.... or something like that.

We find something little to suit Paprika's little frame, and buy it along with a chain for it...



The little man is very nice, and gives her a little hand made purse to keep it in. I'm shocked when he asks just 10 euros for the whole thing. I feel a bit bad.... I got a nice shiny pair of converse.

.......

After my afternoon of work, we meet for coffee at the Molenpad. No one appears to be doing anything tonight, even though it's a Friday. Tomorrow we are getting up early to go to Tommy. Since we are running out of drinking nights and Paprika hasn't been yet, we should head to the Gollem:



At 7pm, we're pretty early for a Gollem session, but I decide that if we limit ourselves to 2 beers, then we can be home without crashing. I settle into my standard end of work refreshing La Chouffe:




Paprika has been itching to try two things... the first one being her second Zatte of the holiday:



Beer number two is a Rochefort:



Paprika joins me with a Kwak.... finally in the correct glass(The Zotte is out of Kwak glasses):




Half way through beer number two..... disaster strikes. Some Kiwi's arrive and I have to stay for a further drink.

I go for a Chimay Wit from the tap while Paprika juggles some Kwak:



Tonight is a special night... There is a mystcal trappist brewery known as Westvleteren. The Monks only let you buy two crates of beer at once, so it's pretty rare. Tonight the Gollem has Westvletern 6 and Westvleteren 12. The Kiwi's order some up:

Westvelteren 12:




Luckily the kiwi's have a prior engagement and are heading off to an Irish bar somewhere.....

As we are finishing the dregs of our beers and working out where to get food on the way home disaster strikes again.... everyone's favourite Bulgarian Beer Connoisseur arrives..... we have to stay for another. This time Paprika and I opt for the same tipple... a (relatively) mild Chimay red:



Our Bulgarian chum of course wastes no time and whacks straight into a Westvleteren 6. We are soon joined by an American tourist, who has come to Europe to discover himself and discovered the joys of Belgian beer. He's a jolly fellow and we drink away until we decide that home could be a good idea if we're going to make it to the Tommy sale for 8am....

The cycle ride home passes without incident...

Wednesday and Thursday

Wednesday passed without incident. We didn't go to the Zotte, and given that it was midweek, we stayed in and I cooked Curry:



On Thursday I was out of Amsterdam for the day, so I didn't see Paprika until late at night. Because there were very few alcohol based landmarks that I could meet her at, and I was coming from a train station, it was the Zotte with my boss:



It turned into quite a sesh. It started with an Orval:



and fuelled by spicey sausages....



...olives....



......fresh brown bread.......



.......pate..........




..........cheese...........



moved to Chimay Blue:




The music was also flowing, we had some soundgarden:



.....happy mondays....



.....Busted.....



Eventually when it was getting too busy, we decided to have a beer outside at the bar next door.This idea was soon rained off and we headed for home. Although Paprika was drunk, you'd hardly recognise the drinking constitution that arrived last friday.

It's almost June, but no one seems to have told the weather. I was really disappointed that Paprika didn't get better weather, cos Amsterdam really is wonderful in the sun.

We find ourselves cycling home through what becomes torrential rain.



We are hardly dressed for winter, and it just seems to be getting worse and worse and worse... intelligence would have dictated that we should have taken the tram, but getting an Amsterdammer to give up his bike isn't as easy as that.

On the last turn before home, I slide on a wet tram track, and we're on the ground. Luckily Paprika is unscathed, and apart from a leg that is still several shades of Blue, yellow and purple from ankle to knee, I came off okay.

From the gutter, we dust ourselves down and head for home..... Paprika's trip to Amsterdam seems to become more complete by the day.

Tuesday: A real Zotte sesh.

Tuesday: museums...Bulgarians in the Zotte....

The weather is worse than ever... It's getting worse instead of better.

I have another day at work while Paprika heads off and discovers Amsterdam. This works quite well, although I wish I was off wandering about and being a traveller too. It won't be long till a summer of travelling starts and this just makes it seem closer.

I drop Paprika at the Anne Frank museum:





It's a while since I've been, but Paprika's German abilites should mean she gets a lot out of the old Nazi letters and the whole experience in general.

I come and pick her up again at lunctime. Ont the way my peddle falls off....



.....so it's a quick trip tot he nearest bike shop before lunch which is a wander around the Negen Straatjes:



The Negen straatjes is an area of Amsterdam within the canal belt that contains nine little streets(negen straatjes) of curious little shops, boutiques, cafe's and restaurants. It's good for a wander, and it's quite near my work, so it's a suitable way to spend my lunch hour. We get some take away(but not from Wok to Walk), and then do some window shopping. It sometiems amazes me what people can successfully sustain a business on.

I head back to work. When I am finished, I head to the Zotte with my boss, where I;m going to meet up with Paprka. Apart from being to the Anne Frank, she's also managed to visit soe museums. Namely the rijksmuseum.....



....and the Van Gogh museum:



we crack into some fine beers:





and have some olives and spicey sausage....

We are pretty well oilled when a Bulgarian Beer Drinker that I know comes in. He seems to have decided to have a night off from the Gollem.

Paprika has been merrily(Drunkenly) craving some genuine belgian frites since she first smelt them. So once the Bulgarian table get some, I suggest that she should go and ask nicely for one. She heads over battering her eyelids and using her womanly charms and manages to steal a handful:



When my boss leaves for another bar, we join the Bulgarian table and continue to get well oilled on various beers. When I try to buy Paprika a non alcoholic beer:



she continues to just drink my la chouffe anyway:



I chomp down a delicous Tuna steak. It turns out that the chef in the Gollem is Greek, so Paprika uses her language skills to ensure that we have a friend for life in the Zotte from now on. Not a bad man to know, cos his food is always delicious.

We continue through some witkap pater:






and some Chimay:



and then head for the tram(My bike is still pedalless at this point).

Quite a big night for a tuesday, but apart from a long wait at the tram stop its home to bed ready to go to work the next day.

Γοοδ Νιγητ

Monday - Back to work

I make it back to work, and make a better dent on the mountain of work than I'd expected to. Mowgli pops in to drop off his bag at lunchtime and we head for lunch.

He comes back at 5 to collect it before heading off to catch his plane.

Sadly, the weekend is over.... but I'll see Mowgli again when I go to Prague on Thursday night.

The girls stagger along ready for home too. I meet them on Leidseplein after work and we head for a few drinks with two of my colleagues in Eijlders. I could do with going home, but the girls want to buy me dinner for letting them stay the weekend, so we head to a new bar I've been wanting to try out:

Zotte:



It's a little Belgian beer bar which is tucked away on a side street near Leidseplein. It has a similar alcoholic content to The Gollem, but it's a far quieter affair that serves food. It;s always busy and which gives it a great cosy atmosphere. we only have starters and don't have room for main courses.The Russians have soup, while I have half a loaf of fresh cooked country bread with pate. It is absolutely delicious and a great aside to a couple of tasty beers. This isn't a wild night though, so after that we head back on the tram.

The music still plays, but I'm tidying the flat as it does. We look over the photos of the weekend and have early nights.....

Tonight The Space Cadet and I make a break from Camp Freddy radio. We listen to the soothing sounds of Sigur Ros:




.....and a little bit of Plastikman:



We stay awake talking until about 3am about life, love and music, but after that playlist, the zeds soon kick in....

доброй ночи

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.

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: