After spending three days in Amsterdam, both L. and I have finally learned that “coffee shop” doesn’t mean a cafe, but a place where you’re served cannabis (in whatever form you fancy): there won’t be coffee. If you DO want coffee, you need to proceed to a *real* cafe (cannabis wouldn’t be included).
As far as it goes (mostly, following my nostrils) cannabis here has a less intimidating smell than in Cambridge, which, I guess, means a high quality product or something.
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We tried very hard to avoid That One Quarter in the city that everyone heard about, yet still ended up in one of the dodgy corners, while slightly deviating from the route that was built by gps (both of us somehow totally missed the tiny red lights above). A little glimpse at the red curtain and a young woman in lacy underwear behind it, thoughtlessly staring in front of her and at nobody in particular through the glass made me extremely sad: no amount of mental gymnastics persuades me that it’s not gross. Girls behind red curtains most likely didn’t need my compassion (if we assume that they were there completely voluntarily) yet they have it from me anyway.
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Cheese and Stroop waffles! Never in my life have I seen so many sorts of Gouda, and boy oh boy do they look divine!.. The problem is that we, being from the UK, are prohibited to bring it to the Mothership (due to the recent outbreak of foot and mouth disease), and it hit us hard!
Anyway, we compensated it by eating Stroop Waffles at every central corner—plain, with caramel, chocolate and berries etc, and let me tell you: you simply cannot visit The Netherlands and not devour at least five of them (the largest, of course: the bigger the better).
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Amsterdam is ablaze with greenery of all types, shapes and sizes, and every door looks like a magical gate to the fairy tale. Of course, we’ll be back.
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