Back at Bob's

I sit in the lounge at Bob's, back in Amsterdam as I type this. The past few days have brought me back to Utrecht and out to the Dutch countryside for midsummer, and now I'm back here. When we arrived in Utrecht the market was in full swing outside the station in the square. My first goal was to find fresh stroopwafel, which I did. Huge stroopwafel for only one euro. I felt as if I stole it, and Pete enjoyed it as well. We walked the familiar main street down towards Janskerkhof and turned into the alley street of Boothstraat. We were staying at the same hostel I spent my first night in the Netherlands at. Hostel Strowis' bright yellow sign was visible from the corner on, and we were offered the complimentary warm drink I had been too flustered to accept that first time I checked in.

Once settled in our first floor room, we headed out to Biltstraat, destined for Super de Boer, my second favorite grocery store. We picked up the makings of a decent hostel meal, and prepared it in the well-stocked kitchen. Strowis has a really nice garden, with plenty of places to sit and talk, and we spent some time socializing. It's always interesting to hear why people are in Utrecht, and more often than no they're there on a friend's recommendation or because they heard it was a great break from the insanity that Amsterdam thrusts into one's lap. Pete and I headed out down the Oudegracht, passing under the Dom and soon reaching the infamous Cafe Belgie, home to hundreds of beers, most of them of the Belgian variety and none disappointing. We chatted with a bartender on break about Dutch football, the American dollar and of course, beer. After a few rounds we continued down the canal, stepping down into 't Oude Pothuys for some 2 euro Brand. A step down from the Belgians up the street, but beer nonetheless. Before long the live music started, and the place filled up with Dutch. We cursed with what can only be described as a 90s funk band playing 90s pop songs with just the wrong mix of sincerity and energy.

The walk back to the hostel was rife with Pete comments like "I have no idea where we are," "this is great," and "I hope you know where we're going." I did, and we made it back to Strowis in time to relax at the now darkened patio. We made the mistake of sitting down at a table with a Virginian and a Bulgarian named Tony Anthony. They were drinking Jack Daniels, and requested some help with finishing the bottle. I had a chance for one wary look at the almost empty bottle of Coke before my glass was filled. The rest of the evening was spent discussing life, politics, and some philosophy. Great topics with a glass of whisky staring you in the face. Tony had an extremely interesting view on life, and stereotyped the hell out of Bulgarians. He explained he is a self-centered asshole, who thinks only of himself. He is also extremely self-confident, as are most Bulgarians. To compensate for this selfish lifestyle, he commits one good deed each day, most days. If that bottle of whisky was his deed on that particular day, I don't think it was so good for Pete, and I know I had to sleep off most of Mr. Daniels.

We rented bikes from the hostel, and I couldn't have been more pleased. These were Dutch bikes: a ton of metal, bells, back seats and beat-up. We took the borrowed stallions out north and west of the city, following canals past the infamous floating hookers of Utrecht, past the city limits and out to the Oud Zulyen, where Slot Zulyen and a few notable windmills greeted us. There was a wedding party at the castle, and they released doves as part of the ceremony. Where do those doves go? Can doves survive in any climate and biosphere? I doubt it, but damn, it looks cool to release a bunch of them at once.

We spent the rest of the day in Utrecht visiting some favorite sites, including Falafel City, Grift and Wilhemina parks, as well as the Dom and surrounding area. I woke up early to pick up breakfast from the bakerij and visit the Parnassos garden, which was empty, because international students don't wake-up before noon on Saturdays. Pete and I headed down the Oudegracht to Bert's Bier Huis. We picked up some favorites for the midsummer party, and enjoyed lunch at De Oude Muntkelder before saying goodbye to Utrecht once again, and heading southeast to Ede-Wageningen. Jeroen and Melissa, whom I know because Barry, my Utrecht roommate, is their brother-in-law and brother, respectively. As mentioned, the party had a medieval theme, and our plastic battle axes got us in the door. The scene was great. Authentic. But what made it for me was the axe throwing. Jeroen had fashioned some serious throwing axes, and we placed a wooden target against a sand wall. Pete and I quickly caught on, and before long we were throwing bullseyes. And of course, we had to make it a competition. Europeans can throw axes casually. We Americans need a scoring system so we can confirm victory.

A night of great grilled food, cheeses, Leffe, and mead followed, and the night carried into the early morning hours, which found us shouting about choice topics and not really listening. We woke up and showered, and boarded a train back to Amsterdam. It rained, poured really, for the first leg of the ride, but when we arrived in Amsterdam it was the best weather I've seen here. It wasn't even cloudy, and it's always cloudy in Amsterdam, so that "God can't look down and see." Sodom and Gomorrah paranoia I guess. Pete and I took a whirlwind tour of the still-under-renovation Rijksmuseum, and emerged into some kind of windstorm, where no one was having a good time except some guy flying a kite. He was having a blast, and when he noticed us watching him, he shouted, "Haven't seen this kind of wind in 20 years! Woohoo!"

Bob's was packed again for the Spain-Italy match, after which we enjoyed an absinthe at Absinthe. This bar would be a great place to start a film. Weird, underground, and hard to find. Later we stumbled into a bar I once found when searching for Absinthe. A brown cafe, as they're called, this place had some serious beer. We drank Kwak from the obnoxious glasses, and when I returned to the bar for round two, a German girl inquired. I explained the glasses as best I could, and made conversation. Meanwhile she ordered two, then four Kwak, and proceeded to pay for two. This was a problem, as I had just enough cash for the intended round of Palm, which runs a bit cheaper than Kwak. I snagged a euro from Pete just before he gave it to a drifter, and helped pay for the round. So now I owe a cute girl from Cologne two euros. I'll buy a Hamburger a beer to make good.

So now we're catching a seven hour bus to Hamburg, where we'll couchsurf a night and stay a few more in a hostel. The last run before the Copenhagen era begins. Watch for some photos and maybe even a video come Friday..