Slow Sunday

Hi. It's almost six pm, I'm in my PJ bottoms and feeling seriously sleepy, despite the fact that I slept for over an hour this afternoon. I had a big day yesterday, though not the biggest ever, it does feel that way. It was great, though.  Unfortunately there was no dancing, but we sang. Loudly, in public, and out of tune. It was glorious. We sang Pizza Calzone by Enge Buren. A spoof Dutch version of Eros Ramzotti's Se Bastasse Una Canzone. Seriously hilarious lyrics.

I traveled to Amsterdam Friday night, and stayed at my sister's place, though she wasn't there herself. I had made a date with Emily since we both felt the need to see each other just one more time before I'm going to Italy and France tomorrow, and as she had other plans for Friday night, Saturday it was. It was pouring with rain all night and morning and the weather was just grey and miserable altogether. What summer? I was pleased to have worn my winter jacket when I walked to the tram stop. We both encountered the usual Amsterdamned Tram Trouble, so we met about a quarter past 11 am and Stella joined us too, we had coffee at Two for Joy, which was very good. As we left the sun had come out, totally agains all weather forecast predictions, and it stayed out all afternoon. Needless to say, suddenly my winter jacket was too hot and I ended up carrying it most of the afternoon. However Em and I still enjoyed a nice leisurely day of strolling through tourist-stricken Amsterdam, buying a few things, eating some things and sharing the general banter and laughter that comes with our being together. We were still hunting a cocktail bar that could make my now infamous Vanilla Pie cocktail, and I had found a potential candidate so we made our way there after a quick break at Phiroze's apartment to drop off my stuff, where I would be sleeping that night with the hopes to have a few hours with the man himself later as he would be in the country for 12 hours to repack his bags.

We hadn't really taken the fact that it was dinner time into account when we started drinking cocktails. Emily introduced me to a satekroket 'out of the wall' from the Febo that afternoon, which I enjoyed very much. I am sad to say this delightful snack was not part of my diet when I lived here, but it is now. Below are pictures of how one buys snacks 'out of the wall' (which can be done 24 hours a day), by the way, something quintessentially Dutch.

Choose your snack

Satekroket, yum

Insert coins and take out snack

We had also just unabashedly shared a bag of potato chips (Joppie Saus flavour) later that day, the way we always have since we were little children. Potato chips are part of our history. And one does not eat some chips and then put the bag away. One finishes a bag by the handful. So we didn't feel the need for dinner, but we did feel the need for cocktails.

We headed to the Vesper bar, which was nicely tucked away from tourists, in the Jordaan district. The bartender was quite cute and very friendly and helpful, however he was unable to help me introduce Emily to the Vanilla Pie. So he made me a Pornstar instead. Yah, I know, which would you rather consume? What a bad name for such a nice cocktail! I told him I wanted something girly and very sweet and he delivered on that. Emily had the Red Lipss (or was it Hot Lipss? Memory went a bit fuzzy around that time) and that was also very delicious. We were enjoying ourselves quite marvellously there and the drinks went down very well. We decided on a second round. The night was very young, and the cocktail menu very appealing. However our lovely bartender told me he'd make me something especially sweet and girly, and he had assumed correctly that I am fond of vanilla and cinnamon. He concocted something quite spectacular, which I got to name myself. I lovingly called it the Sinterklaas-in-a-Glass or the Taai Taai Pop. Sinterklaas, which you should by now know if you've been reading my blog loyally and regularly as you should, is a Dutch family holiday celebrating said Saint, who was the inspiration for the man known to many as Santa Claus. Anyhow, it tasted so much like that Christmassy, Sinterklaasy sweet & spicy flavour, that it put me straight in the mood for presents. However, it turned out I would be enjoying presence rather than presents that night, namely that of my good old friend Emily and my good new friend Phizz. Something much more valuable.

Florence holding a Pornstar

That second cocktail, however, did contain quite, quite a lot of alcohol. I couldn't taste that which was what made it such a good cocktail, but I could tell and Emily could tell, too. For the first time in my life, I could feel the effects of alcohol quite clearly and it was funny. I wouldn't say it's really worth making it a regular state of mind, I found it rather unsettling, but it was entertaining nonetheless. People seem to make a big fuss about it, and seem to enjoy being drunk very much, but I'm not in any hurry to get back to that state. I wouldn't count myself as having been drunk as such, I could still speak very coherently and walk in a straight line and all that, it was only two cocktails after all, but I have to say I was hyper aware that I felt a bit woozy and slightly out of touch with my brain. I had six cocktails on my birthday without feeling very much effect, so I found last night's occurrence quite surprising. But with cocktails being pricey drinks, and the realisation that we should probably eat something to soak up the wooziness, we strolled out into the evening and headed for food. The bartender could not tell us where we could find 'a healthy salad' (he seemed very amused that we wanted to eat that), so it was up to us. In my slightly befuddled state, I forgot to tip our nice bartender. I feel bad and will have to go back there next time and give him an extra big tip.

Emily, whom as I have mentioned in previous post, has quite a voice when it comes to funny accents, beatboxing and also just singing in general. Not specifically beautiful or angelic singing (sorry Em, you know it's true) but very impressive, and highly entertaining, all the same. We were singing and laughing along the Amsterdam canals, when some eastern European male tourist walking in front of us had noted out elated state. Silly womenses as we were, should have kept our voices down, however, we were giggling and having fun. They slowed to speak to us and one said this to Emily (if you ever see her, ask her to do his accent, she's ace at those): 'You are very beautiful. Your friend.' I think he meant me. We weren't equally enchanted with their appearance, so we continued on our path after ignoring them the most polite way we could, but laughing quite hysterically at the remark. Then a few hundred meters along, the same man stopped and asked me quite unashamedly if I could give him a kiss. Granted, he pointed at his cheek while saying this, but I still told him very clearly I was married and held up my wedding band-adorned hand for emphasis. He responded cheerfully that this was not a problem, he was too, and proceeded to show me a picture of his baby on his phone.  I told him that he really should not be asking women for kisses if he was married and had a child, but to please enjoy his time in Amsterdam. We quickly walked the opposite direction. In hysterics, of course.

Then we found a cosy little place where we ordered a salad, and I received a text from Phizz a bit earlier saying he had finished in Paris early and would be back earlier than he had anticipated, so he joined us after our salad for a drink. We wanted to go lounge at Werck for another drink and maybe some food for Phizz, and maybe even a dance after, so we stepped out into the night once again. The night decided it wanted to shower us, so the heavens suddenly opened up, thunder cracked over our heads and rain came lashing down. This didn't dampen our spirits as much as our heads, so we continued on. Emily was telling us she didn't want to dance on her own and translated it thus: 'I don't want to dance in my ducky' (the Dutch word for 'being on your own' and 'ducky' sound exactly the same). It is now one of my favourite literal translations ever. We also came to the conclusion earlier that day that the French have not eaten cheese of how to make coffee. This is also a literal translation that we found very amusing. In Dutch when someone's ignorant in regards to something we have a saying 'he/she has not eaten cheese of it' and as it's a sad fact that making good coffee is not something the French are particularly famous for, we came to the above conclusion. Language is one of my favourite toys!

We didn't end up lounging at Werck due to the lounge area being closed, but rather eating chinese vegetable soup in a completely uncharming but favourite food joint with a tv blearing. That's when we all really realised we were actually exhausted and dancing was most definitely not going to happen. So we said our goodbyes, and all went to our beds. It was a wonderful day. Really good to be with my good friends before heading off for a week or two. Phizz and I really wanted to talk for hours and catch up properly, but we were just too tired for it. Our brains synced just by proximity. He's a MacBook Pro, I am a MacBook Airhead, we sync quite well and soon all we'll need is a cloud. Sorry, that was a bad Macjoke. Don't order it at the MacDonald's.

This morning, Phizz's 5 (yes, 5) alarms went of with about 10 minute intervals starting at 5.55 am and I was awake from the first one. He, however, managed to turn each one off and go straight back to sleep. Now it was him, not me, that needed to catch a plane and I reminded him of that eventually, so he begrudgingly rolled into action around 7 am. And me, well, I felt quite aware of my poor food and drink choices of the night before. Tummy was not happy, but made me feel that I might possibly be hungry, or something. After Phizz hopped is his taxi after our usual 'See you in a month' I was very hungry (bakery was closed), but missed my tram and had to wait 10 minutes in the rain for a bus, it was still too early to drink coffee and eat fresh croissants at Screaming Beans (half an hour too early) so then I got on my bus to find that wasn't going to go all the way to Central Station because of roadworks, and I had to walk 10 minutes in the rain. Imagine my mood. Things felt slightly better after some croissants from the station and having gotten on my train home, but to be honest, not much.

I was almost asleep when I got to Eindhoven, and nearly missed my connecting train, but when I got home, I was rewarded with cuddle from Mum, and my soft, sweet bed. I slept for a lovely while. Then I woke feeling groggy. I decided I need to pack for our trip, and I did so using some of Phizz's amazing Tom Bihn packing cubes, which brought me much joy. I am beginning to think Tom Bihn has designed his products especially for us. Maybe Tom Bihn and Steve Jobs should design products together.

Now, the washing is about done, the asparagus are about ready, and I am done telling you about my last few days. So. Tell me about yours!