Back on the road - Train to leipzig

And so it is, after a wild weekend, the Hugo Boss shirts are in the bag ready for another stint of meetings and conferences, only this time they are joined by the trusty kilt for a bit of fun time in between. This time, I'm heading across from Amsterdam to Leipzig. It will be my first time in formerly east Germany, so I get to clock off another country, and hopefully be a little closer to the interesting traveling in Poland and Bulgaria.

As soon as I hit the road again, the iPod is turned on, and on recommendation of the Space Cadet, I choose Mogwai:



Although Mogwai are scottish, I've never actually listened to them. Music for me has always been about escapism. The further away it is from real life, the easier it is to escape to. This makes me a snob to British music, and even more to scottish music, there's very few british bands that really turn me on. There's the obvious exceptions of Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and The Who, but they are in the past, so again it's far away, just not geographically. Scottish music, while wonderful and all the rest, is even worse. Too close to home I think. Maybe I'd feel the same way about Grunge if I grew up in Seattle. Anyway. For this reason, I've never listened to Mogwai. They were always compared to Pink Floyd, which I heard as British modern band which sound a bit like pink floyd, which then in my head becomes the most Pink Floydy that Oasis could sound - not enough to get me to the record shop.

So I'm grooving along to the subtle tones and colours of Mogwai. I'm amazed how much the project the same mood as sigur ros. The ultimate in martian music which can only be escapism. How can some boys from Glasgow seem so far away.

спасибо

Anyway.....

1st class trains let me plugin the laptop and get some work done, watch some movies and update the blog.

This makes the journey fly by, and eventually, I have my stopover in Minden:



I have no idea where this is, but I learn here, that it's an extremely cold day, and that Minden doesn't have much to offer the traveller spending 45 minutes there.

Chug Chug, and I'm back on an efficient German ICE headed for Leipzig It's getting late now, and my wild weekend, coupled with bad german coffee means that I'm getting to the stage that watching movies is the only thing left that my brain can handle.

Eventually, Leipzig arrives to surround the train. I get off and find that the rumours are true, Leipzig has a very large train station; It's not so mcuh that the triain station is large but more that there is a sprawling shopping centre in the middle of it.

In my first German in god knows how long, I manage to negotiate directions from a Taxi driver as to how to walk to my hotel. Luckily it's just round the corner. By now, I'm listening to one of my travelling playlists. It's quite simple. It starts with the first disc of Mellon Collie and the infinite sadness and continues with the second disc. I really reckon this album could get you through just about anything.

I arrive at the hotel, and the staff are pretty friendly. The give me a map and give me directions to the must see areas of Leipzig. After a quick baggage drop off and a freshen up, I head out to discover Leipzig. First impression is that it's cold and dark, but as I move towards the centre, I can see that theres a sprawling shopping centre which makes its way through lots of little arcades. It's about 8pm now, so everything appears to be shut. The only signs of life are the Gluiwein huts which stand about in the streets. These always have a few people standing around warming their hands, mouths and chests on the sweet sickly alcohol:



I decline. The Hotel receptionist has pointed me to the area for nightlife, but drinking alone's never fun, and my liver could do with a few nights off before I go to Prague. It's a good job I wasn't looking for nightlife, cos there seems to be none of it around. Maybe I'm a little early. The Christmas stalls, huts and decorations are still around from what looks like a very busy Christmas shopping area. I get a few photos of the main attractions before heading back:

Bach:



Bach was musical director at the Thomaskirche in Leipzig and wrote many of his great works here. Unfortunatley, it's covered in scaffolding which detracts from it a little, but it's very dark and gothic at night:







I also climb some scaffolding to get a picture of a Goethe statue. He studied at Leipzig Uni:



The building works seem to take over everything, you can't get near most of the attractions. I later find out that it's because the money has come through for the German World cup, so they've started doing work links, rechts und centrum.

Maybe it's because I've lived wild over the weekend. I'm rather unimpressed. Dave Navarro recently said that he's lived such a debauched life, that the only sexually deviant things that could turn him on would have to be clearly illegal and immoral, like hiring a prostitute to kick vagrants while he watches. I'm feeling a little the same in Leipzig(Except toned down a few notches....

....and on that note; Gute Nacht!!!

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

Sunday

On Sunday it's no surprise that we wake up late, although The Kiwi, The Space Cadet and I listen to Neil Young for a good two hours before Mowgli even moves from the brown stain he's beeen sleeping in on my bed:







Neil Young is great Sunday morning music. It's pretty much great music anytime. You just have to watch you don't start feeling too sorry for yourself while you're listening to it. Luckily it's interspersed with flashbacks of the previous nights adventures and The Cadet and I telling tales to The Kiwi.

Eventually, The Cadet needs to head back to Amstelveen and The Kiwi heads of to knock his hangover out on a kick boxing bag. For want of something better to do, I wake up Mowgli and we get showered espressoed and porridged before heading off into town for a wander about. It feels strange to be putting on jeans, as it;s my first time not in a kilt since Thursday night.

We decide to walk into town. It seems like the perfect activity to ease our hungover heads and slacken off our danced out feet. We talk with pride of how we turned the party around last night and how we were almost definitely the best dressed in the place.

Once in town, and after wandering around the red light district, we eventually hear from the girls. We arrange to meet them on Leidseplein. We're there anyway so have a wee while to wait.

While we're waiting, we watch the little Argentinean man who does tricks with a football which can only be described as advanced keepie upie. He's slowly warming up and gets better and better, climbing lampposts while bouncing a ball on his head, etc. etc.

Once he has an audience, he starts to play with the crowd, passing to them. Telling them stories of his training with Maradonna back in Buenos Aires. It's pretty good fun, and he has good patter. At one point he starts on a tourist and asks him where he played such bad foot ball;

England.

The previous week, England beat Argentina at football, so he has a real go at him. The guy can't walk away when his mates are there, so he has to just stand and take it. We really enjoy it.

When the girls arrive, it's clear that lying in bed late, then eating porridge and espresso is a far better way to deal with a late night than getting up and playing volleyball. Tempers are frayed and eyes are bleary.

We pick up some falafal....



....and some chinese...



.....then head back to the flat for a relaxing night i front of the stereo. We crack open a bottle of wine, enjoy some quality cheeses with oatcakes and then make our way through a few episodes of Fawlty towers.

We finish the night by watching the Jane's Addiction 1997 tour DVD. It's a good one to have in the background, cos it doesn't make sense even if you do try to keep up with it.

We again fall asleep to Camp Freddy.....

Uggggg I need to work tomorrow. Back to normality....

Fancy Dress

Luckily I'm not playing volleyball, and I get to wake up late on Saturday. I get up and sit around with The Kiwi and recount the tales of the previous evenings adventures.

I can only presume Mowgli was lightening on the volleyball court:



New Zealand are playing rugby again today, so it's not long before, he's off to start another beer session. I have more pressing engagements. Cut myself a furry red beard and dye a pair of Y-fronts orange.

I'd like to point out at this stage that neither I nor Mowgli owned a pair of Y-Fronts and we have a Czech Tesco receipt to prove it.

By the time a very tired looking Mowgli returns from Amstelveen, I have all the preparation done and all thats left to do is to paint ourselves our respective colours. I've already tested that he paint works, and that it washes off reasonably easily once it's dry.

We quickly get a bite to eat and then stand in the kitchen and rub ourselves down. At one point while we are rubbing down each other's backs, I realise what a strange site it must be with a big yellow man rubbing down a small Indian boy. Even though this is Amsterdam, it still has to one of the stranger fetishes they've seen.

Once we're ready, we've decided too go into the centre and join The Kiwi for a post rugby drink. It will also give us a chance to wander around the centre as Willy and Mowgli. We get on the tram:





It's wonderful. If the tram had been a bus it would have been off the road, because the girl driving the tram completely lost it once she saw us. We got on and took our seats. It was like being in kilts, where some people ignored and some people laughed along with you. The woman driving even whistled through the Tannoy at us. It's looking like it's going to be a fun night.

After a quick bum flash to the driver, we get off at Dam Square and head towards Susie's where The Kiwi's drinking. It's good fun at first, but the mood isn't quite as high as ours is, so we only stay for one pint. This makes us early for the party, but we head along anyway for want of a better place to go.

The party is near the Amstel station, so it's another tram trip and then a little walk across the Amstel river. We pass the odd pedestrian, but it's later now, so people really are keeping their eyes down when they see us.

When we walk in the club, it's completely empty. There are just a few people there already - their costumes don't come close to ours, and I have to explain to everyone who groundskeeper willy is. The Simpsons doesn't seem to have very high viewing figures among students in The Netherlands.

We sit at the bar and start on drinking pitchers of beer:



It's a far stretch from the beer we were drinking last night - but this is student life now.

Mowgli is freezing as the club hasn't warmed up yet. We drink away as various arrivals come up and laugh at our costumes. My red furry beer is starting to smeel off beer, and its getting heavier and heavier and slipping off my face. I've stopped adding extra glue, as I was starting to worry I was gonna get high on the fumes.

Eventually the club has filled, and just about everyone we know is there, we are pretty well oiled, but we still can't start dancing cos the music isn't up to much. They are playing bad 80's hits interspersed with unknown(to us) Dutch music. It's a bad state of affairs, because past experience tells Mowgli and I that it has to either be extremely cheesy music or headbanging music for us to make it to a dancefloor. We need to do something about it, as the night will end quickly if we continue downing these pitchers of cheap beer without sweating some of it out.

Mowgli goes and has a word with the DJ. The DJ isn't quite convinced, but he plays the first song Mowgli suggests, and we are straight on top of the table at the side of the room. Everyone surrounds the table, and Groundskeeper WIlly and Mowgli start dancing like nutters for a while. The DJ takes his cue, and realises that it's gonna be a better night if he takes our advice.

From this point on, our beer is pretty much free. We've turned it from a mediocre club night, into one where everybody is dancing. Various other people join us on the table for songs, that mean something to them, or more to the point they know they can dance to. At one point Mowgli arranges with the dutch guys that he's going to do a stage dive and crowd surf. He always wanted to be Eddie Vedder, and his lack of musical ability, or at least a band to sing to means he lives out the fantasy at an possible convenience:



He stage dives, and then crowd surfs around the room for a while. He then encourages me to do the same. I am slightly larger than he is, so the first time I attempt it, the 8 guys buckle, and I make it back to the stage without falling off, a few more volunteers arrive and soon, the kilted yellow man is also crowd surfing.

We are now dancing on the stage until we get knackered, and then sitting the odd song out to refresh ourselves with the free beer.

By now, I've finally succumbed to sanity and removed the red beard and bald wig. It's much more fun dancing drunk with long hair if you can swing it about a bit.

It's now well into the wee hours, and 9pm seems like not that long ago, when we had entered this cold club; Mowgli with erect nipples from the cold.

The night is not yet over however, as Mowgli has a few tricks left up his sleeve to stop the night going stale. He's asked the DJ to play "Baby take off your hat" from the Full Monty soundtrack:



Mowgli is up on the stage before I recognise the song. He's only wearing orange Y-Fronts, so he's miming taking off his clothes. There's not much I can do except join him - It's amazing what cheap beer and camaraderie will do for your bravado. I'm soon up on the stage with him. Rushing to catch up with the song. Mowgli is hopping tables trying to find a woman with a hat as a prop. He has to fight it off someone dressed as a cowboy. Luckily, I have the kilt as a prop. We strut our stuff for the song, and are eventually standing starkers looking upon the screaming audience. Mowgli poses in my sporran for a while and we get brought some pitchers of beer:



I thought i might be a wild weekend, but it surpassed even my imagination.

We've pretty much peaked, so we leave the table dancing to our proteges. I get outside for a breather and talk to The Space Cadet for a while. It's now about 5am, and people are starting to go home. Mowgli and The Space Cadet don't take much convincing that they aren't gonna be playing much volleyball tomorrow, and we head off to find a taxi back to my place.

I'm sober enough to get in a shower and waash the yellow paint off me that hasn't been sweated off. When I come out The other two are out cold in the living room. I have to almost carry Mowgli into bed, he's that tired. I think it must have been the volleyball, cos I know he can handle the drinking and the dancing.

We fall asleep to the strains of Camp Freddy radio once again, but I don't think any of us hear much of it.

Amsterdam in Kilts.

We wake up slowly and get some porridge and espresso into us. Mowgli and I are wearing kilts, and we're gonna go for a wander in the centre. Living away from home means we put our kilts when we're together. It's a lot of fun and puts you in a great mood, especially when you're just walking around the streets speaking to people.

We get on a tram in the Baarsjes, and everyone is staring. By the time we get off in Leidseplein, we are less self conscious about it. Amsterdam is a liberal city. This means two things. One is that people will holler at you even if they are not drunk, and the other is that people aren't really shocked by people who are dressed funny. This is how you can tell the Dutch/Locals from the tourists. Everyone takes a first glance, when they see two men in a kilt, but the tourists look back for a double take, and usually laugh and say hello. It feels great to be putting a smile on people's faces, adding a little joy to get them through the cold.

Apart from the casual wander, we are in town to put together some fancy dress costumes for the volleyball party tomorrow. The theme is "Cartoon Characters", so I'm going as the famous Scot Groundskeeper Willy:



And Mowgli is going as ...... well Mowgli(Hence the blog name):



I wanted to wear my kilt and I loved the simpsons, so I thought it was the perfect combination. Mowgli is a bit of an exhibitionist, so was attracted to the idea of turing up to club dressed in nothing more than orange Y-Fronts and a wig. After picking up some orange dye in a chemist, we head over to the Rosengracht to the party shop. This gives us a good walk along the Prinsengracht. It's an icey cold day. Suddenly the sweaty kilt of Bulgaria in august is a distant memory, and I'm glad of my scarf and wooly socks.

This is the first time Mowgli and I have been alone(except for a few drunken conversations last night), so it's a great walk to catch up on old times. Eventually, we arrive at the party shop on the Rozengracht. When we go in, the woman behind the counter seems pretty chuffed to have two kilted scots in the shop. It seems ironic that we are in looking for something to dress up in.

We start with the Mowgli wig. There are various black wigs but we settle on one called "The Sandra". It's a black bob, and Mowgli looks like transvestite, or no worse than some of the transvestites that I've seen in my time in Amsterdam. Next, we ask for body paint. Mowgli asks if there is a colour called "indian boy 5". She offers us a small water based colour tub. We tell her that it's for the whole body. She's laughing by now. She realises that we are full on nutters.

Next is Willy. We get a tub of yellow paint the same as "Indian boy 5". This one's probably called "springfield nuclear power yellow". We try for a red beard, but don't get too far. The girl suggests trying the Albert Kuijp market. We do however get some body glue for the beard. I want to make sure, that I'm not going to be covered with flecks of red fur all over my chin when I head off to conferences and meetings on wednesday. She sells us an alcohol based make up remover but tells us that we probably won't need it. Mowgli tells her it might come in useful for removing lipstick stains from his willy in the future. The woman now knows that we are her best customers of the day.

From here we need to go to the Albert Kuijp for red fur. We walk towards Dam Square to get a tram. Before I get on the tram, I need to get some strippenkart, so we head to Albert Heijn. As usual, the queue takes and ages and Mowgli(Like Nine Inch Nina), starts to talk to the people around him. It turns out the girl in the queue behind us is from The Gambia in West Africa, she is amazed that I've heard of her country, never mind been there when I was 16.

We head off to the tram, happy to have brightened yet another person's day.

The Albert Kuijp is a little more out of the centre, so as we arrive, we start to get more looks as we walk along the open market in our kilts. After trying a a few dressmaking shops, we find the livid red fur we are looking for. The shop assistant is quite impressed by the fact that we are dressing up as willy and Mowgli.

From here, we head off back towards the centre, where we are meeting the girls. We get a few dusk photos of Museumplein....





.......and make it Leidseplein in time to have a few beers before the volleyball players have to head off to Amstelveeen to drop off their bags before heading back to the centre for a friday night.

Sitting in a warm bar for a few beers in a bar leaves a few interesting designs on the stools:



I head back to the flat, shower and fill my belly with some of yesterdays leftovers before heading off to meet them on Leidseplein again. Also coming along for the ride is the girl I went to uni with who I was drinking with on Tuesday.

There's lots of options for the evening, but I decide that the best one to show my guests, is our usual haunt; The Gollem.

When we get there, The Kiwi and his dutch colleague are already sampling Belgium's finest. We settle down and make some introductions. Before long, Dagenham Dave comes along and we get started on the La Chouffes, Lucifers and Satans.

We have the usual great drunken fun. Mowgli is a good addition to our drinking crew.

The bar is so busy, that it's easier to go to the women's toilet than it is to go to the mens. We have long hair and skirts, so we're half way there anyway. At one point, Mowgli comes out of the toilet and there's a Dutch woman waiting to go in. I tell her that if there's pee on the seat, that it was Mowgli. She takes me seriously and grumpily demands that he come in and clean the seat.

After he follows her in. He sticks his kilted leg out of the door and shakes it, then his head, and shouts "I'm being violated". The Dutch woman is pretty pissed(Appropriate) off and protests her innocence. Mowgli just rants about how rough and wonderful Dutch women are.

Once our Bulgarian Beer connoisseur arrives, I get some russian prompts from the Space Cadet and her sister and shout them across the bar. I tell him he's a drunk!!!

He comes over and joins us, not before advising a few beers. Our drinking party is spreading across a few more tables, and we are gradually taking over the bar.

A few beers more and Marilyn the Argentinean Munro Bagger comes down to join the fun. She's a good addition to the table. Unlike the Dutch woman, she has a sense of humour, and is amused rather than annoyed when Mowgli continually refers to her as mexican.

He asks her where she's from; Buenos Aires. She asks if she knows where that is. He says Florida. It's a subsidiary of Disney(Buena Vista)

Eventually it's time to get the volleyball players to their game in Amstelveen. We have a hilarious drunken walk to the bus stop where I deposit them before heading off to the bar the kiwi girl works in where The Kiwi and Dagenham Dave are already drinking. Everyone is very impressed with the kilt, and I stay for a few beers before heading home after a long but wonderful day.

A Night in

The Glasgow University Volleyball team are playing in Amsterdam this weekend, so there's a group if them that I know staying in my flat for the weekend. Madness and carnage is bound to ensue, as one of them is a long time friend who knows how to party like only two very good friends can.

The troops arrive about lunchtime and I meet up with them and put their bags in my office, then when I've finished work, they come back to pick them up. They have already been out enjoying Amsterdam, and are full of fun and spirit - just what you need as the Amsterdam Winter Depression sets in. It's going to be a good weekend.

We've decided that since we've not seen each other for a while, that we're going to have a night in tonight and catch up. The weekend's guest's include a girl from Luxembourg who studies in Glasgow, Russian twins, one of whom does my degree in Glasgow and one who studies in Edinburgh, and Mowgli, a mate of mine who has joined me in adventures over the years from working in Supermarkets together, to sharing a house as students. Now he's working in Prague for six months, so our adventures are starting to hit Europe.

It seems like everyone on the team(Both drinking and volleyball) lives in Scotland apart from the Scottish ones. I've decided that given that Mowgli and I are missing home, and that it's getting chilly, we should have a good hearty scottish meal. I've cooked a big pot of Scotch Broth and a huge pot of Mince and tatties. We get some beers in and start to eat, drink and be merry.

The Russians start with a snooze on the couch. Mowgli informs me that their out cold while I'm cooking. I jokingly open a bottle of vodka and blow across the top of it from 10 metres away. One of them wakes up scratching her nose. Her timing was perfect.

Mowgli and I are the DJ's as we catch up on various musical discoveries. Since our last meeting we have discovered that Trent Reznor may be the greatest musical talent of the 20th Century and that the Czech version of "Should I stay or should I go" is painfully bad. We are still at odds as to whether Shakademus and Pliers are the new messiahs.

The Russian twin who is studying in Glasgow is known as The Space Cadet. This is not without good reason. Mowgli asks her if she can point to Luxembourg on the European map on our wall. She doesn't get off to a very good start, but that could be because Mowgli told her it was bordered with Ukraine. I still don't think she would have found it though, because when Mowgli bets her she couldn't find France, she complains that she's not seen this version of the map before - it's going to be a good weekend.

We make our way through my vinyl collection:









Mowgli takes over via his 15" Powerbook, and we get cheese for about an hour. It keeps the party going.

Eventually The Kiwi returns home and joins the party at full force, despite having work the next day.

We head to bed about 2am. Those that study/studied in the electronics faculty sleep in my bed and the others sleep in The Kiwi's room.(He's headed off to visit a friend for the night.)

We fall asleep to Camp Freddy Radio ready for a weekend of adventures.

Tuesday

I got a surprise email from a friend from University on Sunday. She's gonna be in town for a conference and wanted to meet up. She suggested Thursday onwards, but my plans aren't clear yet with the Voleyball players ho are arriving, so I have to make it Tuesday.

After work, my boss and I head out to bar near Leidseplein called Eijlders:



It's a bar quite close to our work where we drink every now and again. It's near enough Leidseplein that I can nip out and collect the girl from uni at the tram stop.

We settle down to some beers, and I catch up on the little gossip thats happened to our various university colleagues since I saw them all last. I've been quite secluded in Amsterdam and have only kept in touch with a select few. What's clear is that there's nothing much of interest to tell.

By the time The Kiwi finishes kick boxing, he comes along and joins us. It turns out to be quite a beer flowing night for a tuesday, with me having fun recounting stories from University and the best of the stories that have happened since.

The night also marks the night that I finally succumbed to an Amsterdam tradition; Febo:



I always thought that Febo was horrible. Little salmonella windows where you put ina coin and take out a lukewarm burger, but The Kiwi has demonstrated that they hold other delights if you walk further in..... Fresh fried chicken:



hmmmmmmmm

Good Night!!

Cote De Boeff

Today has been a very very long day of meeting. My energy levels are low, and i´m chomping on cough drops throughout meetings to stop myslef coughing. The only benefit in the day is when we take all the project partners out to Bistro Bonjour where I sample the Delights of French onion sounp, wine, Cote de Boeff, wine, Desert, espresso, wine wine wine. It´s a great night and everyone seems pretty chuffed.

Zorro

To avoid remaining a recluse all week, I have agreed to head out to the cinema despite my cold. Moldova wanted to see Zorro before the rest of her countrymen. I know for a fact that Obi Wan loved the first film, so we make a night of it and have, The Kiwi, The Bulgarian Bride, Obi Wan, Moldova and me.

Since everyone except me works in the Bijlmer, we decide to go to Pathe Arena:



Don't let the photo fool you folks. If Amsterdam ever need an enema, they will stick the tube in the Bijlmer. I'm not often this far out of Amsterdam. I've been plenty times before, but you always forget how horrible scaffolding and concrete can look. I don't often use Amsterdam's metro system so it's a bit of an adventure to get there. Anytime I've been on the metro I've not been on the underground bit, so bizarrely makes me feel like I'm travelling.

People arrive in dribs and drabs, coming from thier various large concrete buildings. Obi Wan is very surprised to see us. He hadn't realised we were going to the cinema as well. He's just back from a week in Bulgaria. I ask how it was. It was amazing aparently, he bought some star wars lego. So much for Shopska Salata, Rakia and spekaing your mother tongue - maybe when he's a little older. So, popcorn in hand, we head to see Zorro:



From the onset, the film is pure cheese. It's wonderfully tongue in cheek. Somersaults for no reason during sword fighting. Fighing while holding a baby - all the rest. Any close ups of Catherine Zeta Jones feature fuzzy filter's which make it look like something out of gone with the wind(Either that or she write this requirment into her contract).

There's some good lines, great fights, great comedy moments. Everyone enjoys it, including Obi Wan, which is the real test. On coming out of the cinema, The Kiwi asks:

"You gonna trade in your light saber for a sword, bro. "
Immediatly Obi Wan has already thought of the answer:
"NO!!"

Zorro's good, but the light saber still wins.

We head back by Metro and call in on a bar I used to drink in for a few bedtime beers:



It´s a great old place for a good beer, and it´s wooden cosiness and candlelight is perfect for the mingingly drizzley weather outside. We are all pretty ill or tired and we don´t stay for long. I take Moldova home while The Kiwi heads off for his bike. As we leave the bar, I can´t help likeing the small of the fresh rain as we are huddled under the umbrella. It reminds me of Scotland. Good honest rain.

I get the tram home trundling along to my iPod and reading a book. I´m sure we all fall asleep to dreams of sword fighting and latino beauties.....

Update: Photos of Billy Corgan, Ghent and Leuven

Finally got round to scanning in the Analogue photos:

http://furbyx4.blogspot.com/2005/06/billy-corgan-in-gent.html

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