1/09/00

We got here. We're pooped. Roy's fine...he's sick. Weather is awesome and Roy's surprised. We even got hustled by a black-market taxi cabbie who didn't rip us off...but he certainly wasn't following "the rules". We waited for the train to come by and stop and Roy explained that it was the first day they've had without rain in a week or so. Soon, a van with pulled up and the driver shouted for our attention while dodging cars crossing the street; "I'll make a deal with you! I'll give you ride to your hotel for..." and another car zipped by. Roy grinned and agreed to the amount offered.

While driving (way too fast, I might add) to the apartment, I leaned over and said; "Now Bruce, you have to remember. Here in Amsterdam, they speak this funny language... You have to ignore it, they're doing it just to annoy you. They say they're speaking 'Dutch', but it's really just a fake language...it doesn't really exist." Roy and the taxi-driver laughed loudly and Bruce blushed a little. The taxi driver and Roy continued on their discussion of how beautiful the weather was.

We climbed the stairs, which were hazardously narrow and steep while Roy rattled on about how hard it was to move their belongings into the apartment. He was relieved it wasn't nearly as hazardous as their previous apartment but aknowledged that they were indeed trecherous. He quickly showed us to the water-closet, the bedroom and pointed to the little cot in the living room where he chose to sleep. "Omi gets back Thursday. So, until then, you two can have the bedroom and I'll sleep here. On Thursday, we'll switch and I'll pull out the second cot and you two can sleep out here." It was agreed and Bruce and I readily crawled into bed for a three and a half hour nap.

Roy took us on a quick foot tour around his apartment starting counter-clockwise around the block. "That's the super-market over there" he pointed to a sign with large blue letters spelling "Albert Heijn" across the top. Strangely enough, it looked really small until we got closer and realized the entire store was underground. "This is Rijksplein here" Roy said waiving his hand back and forth across a large grassy park. At the far end of the park stood a large castle sized building; "That's the Rijksmuseum there of course" he said while we walked along side. "The Van Gogh Museum is over there..." Roy said without breaking his stride. "They've added this section just a few years ago I guess. It's really neat in the summertime because they've got a garden pool they've dug up so the water level is even with the base of the building." I could tell Roy wasn't feeling well, just by his voice and his tone. We found a small caf� on the next block with a tiny wooden black man holding a tray at the door. "It's a gay restaurant!" I exclaimed noticing the gay colored flag billowing in the breeze.

"Over there in that area," Roy pointed to the east, "they'll have a bon-fire tonight. There'll be music, dancing and all kinds of neat stuff." A man pulling a brown-dried evergreen tree behind him walked around us while we watched a small crew of men in the middle of the park working on a pyre made of wood. "They've been bringing their Christmas trees in for the last few hours getting ready for tonight's bon-fire." We turned and headed back to the apartment before Roy changed directions and we headed across the trolly-tracks and over a canal.

"This is all Leidesplein here" he said pointing to a huge cobblestone courtyard surrounded by restaurants, souvenier shops and hotels. In the center of the courtyard, a huge chess board was designed with black and white marble stones and two men were in a heated match. Pointing across the canal we just walked across he said; "That's my street. So if you memorize that, you'll know how to get back home. And...it's where I'm going myself. I don't feel well so I'll leave you two to go off and do what you want while I go and lay down for a while." He took a few minutes to show us the rules about using the ATM machine so we could get a little money. We thanked him and he trotted off for home, looking boths way before crossing the street and dodging a few speeding cars.

We shivered in the chilly damp air and wandered aimlessly around until we found our way back to the gay caf� with the wooden statute at the front door. Bruce wanted a beer and I was in need of a Diet Coke. I almost forgot that in Europe, a Diet Coke is called "Coca-Cola Light", which the server promptly returned. We talked and watched the people walk by the restaurant, many dragging their dead-brown Christmas tree behind them, a few taking notice of the wooden statue.

Finished, we had to work out the money issue. "Is this enough money?!?" I asked the server. He nodded is appreciation for the tip that was assumed to be his. We left and wandered over to the bon-fire area, which by this time, a large gathering of folks had gathered. "Keep an eye on your wallet Bruce" I whispered as we threaded through the crowd. On the far side of the fire, a small band of minstrels were weeding themselves through the crowd, playing hand-organs and tamborines. Barely able to feel the warmth of the fire, we left and returned to Roy's apartment which we found dinner ready to be served.

Well, I'm heading for bed. Lots to do and lots more to see.


Hugz and Love,
Mark and Bruce