So the boys (Rocky and Booberry, though some may argue their gender stati on a technicality) and I have been on our own. Rocky has been recovering extremely well, and has plenty of tricks to finagle an extra treat out of his medicine routine. Booberry can't figure out why the other side of the bed is neither warm nor lumpy. Daddy has been doing what everyone would expect of a 'bachelor' with a week in the crazy city of Amsterdam: work and taxes.
Yes, it's that most wonderful time of the year even with an ocean's divide! Communicating one paragraph (or scanned PDF) at a time with our accountant has been challenging, but I think we are nearly on the verge of done. Enjoy our contributions to your societal benefits stateside Americans!
OK, there have been a few free moments in the city...
Wednesday was Boys Night Out with a small crew from Swindon. We strolled through Red Light and drank pricey pints before dinner. Tim once again permitted me to watch him school me at billiards. After a vigorous debate about our dinner options, we stumbled upon a comfortable little place with Continental fare. Despite Other Tim's warnings about cheese consumption -- allegedly a matchbook-sized portion contains enough saturated fat for a month -- we ordered the "30 Matchbook" fondue with Cheddar, Stilton, and olive tapenade. Yum. We finished the evening with desert (Guinness) at the Tara pub up Damrak.
Friday, I was invited out to the movies. Going to an actual theater is a rare treat, so I was quite anxious to go. The experience was even better than expected, as the movie was playing at the amazing Pathe Tuschinski near Muntplein. This is an incredible Art Deco building with a classic interior--an opulent lobby, red velvety seats, and balconies. Ignore the rats, but enjoy the beer with your movie! We saw Vantage Point, which was entertaining up to the over-the-top end sequence. We all ate too many sweets from the Jamin. I had walked there to expand my knowledge of Amsterstreets, but thankfully found that the 24 Tram had a stop at Muntplein.
Saturday I took full advantage of my Museumjaarkartje. Early in the afternoon, I went to the Rijksmuseum. I tried to use the 'Fast Lane', but unfortunately our card (or my accent?) doesn't have that privilege. The wait was only 20 minutes. Did I mention I am a fan of Dutch Masters? The Rembrandt collection was really good. My 2nd favorite was his Self Portrait as St. Paul. They also had quite a few Vermeers as well as Frans Hals and Jan Steen. Of course, there is no topping The Night Watch. The sheer size of it is impressive (though the museum describes it as 'relatively small'), and the sense of motion combined with the contrast of light and shadow really make it wonderful.
From there I darted over the the Van Gogh Museum. I started with the special exhibit of John Everett Millais. We had seen posters of his painting Ophelia around town, so I wanted to make sure I saw it before it closed. The web picture of this painting really fails to capture its power. I hadn't seen Millais' work before, and I was really impressed by the radiance of the paint jumping off the canvas. I added a few to my favorite paintings list, though I was underwhelmed by his later landscape portraits. After that, I circled back through the Van Gogh gallery. On this return visit, it did strike me that many of his more famous works are conspicuously absent. On this visit, I think my favorites were two by Gauguin: Self Portrait (Les Miserables) and VVG Painting Sunflowers. The evening closed with a glorious meal at BK and a few beers with the local crew at Hole in the Wall. John made it clear that while I may narrowly escape a beating while refering to Guinness as desert, I shall not drink it with a straw. On the Tram ride home with John, a local asked us why 'North Americans' were so loud. Dutch directness nearly collided with an Irish beatdown (you see, Ireland is not part of North America), and that was when I nearly missed my stop but artfully leapt through the closing doors at the last second.
The final footnote to the week is the haircut (aka Mowin' the Fro-in'). I really had to brush up on my Dutch to be sure I didn't end up with a reverse mohawk.
Befro
Aftershave
There seems to be a recurring self-portrait theme here...
