31 October 2012

A forum where you can read the great
adventures of the visitors to Amsterdam.

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Dogbreath
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31 October 2012

Postby Dogbreath » Thu Nov 01, 9:19 am

The first morning a few days ago waking up at the Movenpick hotel, the room coffee, I discovered much to my chagrin, was freeze dried. How can that be in the land of excellent coffee? Unwilling to spend 21 euro each for the hotel breakfast, I ran over to the Subway a few doors down the block two pick up two coffees.

We have now evolved into room service coffee. For a six euro fee, a pot of coffee is delivered to our room. This we find this is a great value… we each get three to four cups of coffee. A quantity sufficient to ensure we are fully amped.

Mid-morning off to the Albert Cyup market on tram 25. We soak in all the sights, sounds and smells of this market. Red tells me the same cheese she bought at that fancy bakery/ cheese shop on Haarlemerstraat is only 1/3 the cost here. We walk from one end of the market to the other. Then we make our way back.

A street intersecting the Cyup market looks familiar. Katzu? We explore. Ahhhhhh, yes, Katzu coffee shop. We stop in for an energizing coffee and smoke some Laos weed. We have plenty of stash, but the weed menu has some good offers. We see Kali Mist, a longtime personal favorite and classic sativa, available 20. euro for 2.2 grams. This conforms to the laws of Amsterdam economics: the cost of an item is inversely proportional to the distance from the centrum.

The vibe at Katzu is quiet and mellow, as I have remembered it from past years. Locals, for the most part, stopping in for a coffee, smoke, and chat with neighbors/friends. Such a fine social opportunity for the locals.

Revived by the coffee and our attitudes properly adjusted by our first weed smoke of the day, we hop a tram for the post office near de Dam. It is now such a nice day… sunny, very dry and no wind; perfect NL weather. We grab an open pair of seats facing the rear conductor. We feel good. We discuss how taking the tram also provides us a rest and a chance to get off our feet and rest. And watch the world go by, engulfed in a warm aura of contentment.

A couple of stops later, the tram doors open and a man in a wheelchair gets off the tram. He rises from his wheelchair, steps off the tram, and then turns around to retrieve his wheel chair. But before he reaches terra firma, three Dutchies, waiting their turn to enter, immediately jump on board, pick up the wheel chair, take it off the tram and put it next to the man. Then they hop back on the tram, swipe their fare cards and looks for seats. An act of uncommon courtesy, or just another everyday cultural norm? Methinks the latter.

We hop off at de Dam, then to the post office to buy some stamps for seed mailings. But being soooo stoned I do not wish to interact with any human; in fact, I simply cannot interact. So I end up just sort of uselessly browsing around the post office, looking at boxes and new stamps issues.

Now effectively dysfunctional, we retreat to the hotel for a nice afternoon cat nap. One of life’s great pleasures.

Later, a hot shower, clean clothes and off into the night for dinner. We go to the Indonesian restaurant in Rembrantsplein, which was recommended by one of the mechanical engineers who works for me. She is Dutch, with a Dutch mother who lives in Pittsburgh, US, and German father, speaks perfect English (as well as Dutch and German) and is American as apple pie. She was recently in Amsterdam in September visiting family. Her advice was sound… we had a lovely multi-dish dinner and enjoyed the view on this most excellent mild evening people watching over Rembrantsplein.

Afterwards, we stroll over towards Bush Doktor coffee shop. But we elect not to enter…. We did not remember to bring our industrial grade ear protection. The last time I had been there… years ago with Hebe, another channelite, the intensity of the sounds (noise) seemed greater than an industrial boiler plant.

Slowly walking towards the dam on this perfect evening, we stop in at 420 café for coffee and a smoke. We buy some NY Diesel, a strain I have, for some unexplained reason, never tried, even though it is a popular variety. After five minutes, I decide it is not for me… the Indica is too strong for my Sativa tastes. But we are totally content with our state of mind in this coffee shop.

The cat comes over and sits on a stool next to Red. Red scratches the cat behind the ears, and the cats leans into it, enjoying the sensation. Then suddenly, the cats turns and bites Red on her hand. Blood. But it’s only a very small wound, and Red washes the wound. All is well.

It is late, we depart the 420 café, and Red is attracted to the bright shiney objects in the pastry shop window right across the alley from 420 Café. I tell her these are overpriced, and we can do better down Haarlemerstraat. We wander slowly down Haarlemerstraat.

It is a perfect evening and all is perfect. I stop for a moment and have another epiphany that there is no place on earth I wish to be than right here in Amsterdam.

We see the shops closing, and under the influence of a strong munchies attack, there is now a desperate element in our quest for munchies. Defeated on Haarlemerstraat, we walk back to the shop across 420 cafe, load up on a multitude of goodies and make our way back to the hotel.

There is no place like Amsterdam.

There is no place like Amsterdam.

There is no place like Amsterdam.

Dogbreath

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moe.
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Postby moe. » Thu Nov 01, 4:15 pm

Another great read with my morning tea and space cookies. Thanks!

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sdshadow
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Postby sdshadow » Thu Nov 01, 4:51 pm

Great report DB. Keep them coming!

Moe - Nice to see you post again!

winnie
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Postby winnie » Sat Nov 03, 6:00 pm

a lovely read... thanks for taking the time

a story about that cat at 420... I heard the original cat died and this new one (who looks almost identical to the first), turned up out of the blue and moved in the next day. He must have heard about the coffeeshop vacancy on the cat radar

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Dogbreath
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Postby Dogbreath » Sat Nov 03, 6:26 pm

The original cat... the cat I remember, was a very large tabby named Max, who I first looked for. He was moody, but on good days, he would be affectionate. But this new fellow was certainly not Max, by his fur color.

The new cat, like all cats, has adopted an arrogant attitude, thinking he owns the place.

But he got his comeuppance a few days later when we stopped by to have a coffee. Herr arrogance was prancing about like he owned the place when a woman with a large german sheprard came in and sat down. the dog's ears were fully perked thinking, "A cat, dog-sport".

The cat jumped to a safety zone: the weed tenders counter.

Dogbreath


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