Naturally in the brisk Spring air there are birds a chirping in the morning as we wake and it looks like a sunny glorious European day. We bundle up under our many layers with a clear thought in mind. Go to the bridge. Take the jump. So we do. While we were nicely tucked onto a metro the skies turned gray and windy. We rode the escalator up and finished our last bundling up moments before heading towards the mighty Amstel river. The windy swirled around us and what first seemed like an innocent sprinkle of rain, ended with a snow storm (the Floridian's definition to storm means lots of snowy sprinkle thingys.) We continued towards our goal. At first we were excited and then the natural apprehension occurred when we arrived. The nerves. The cold feet (literally.) Then we saw it. The sign in graved in stone "Berlagebrig." We found Tracy's grandfathers' bridge. A famous architect from Holland that certainly made a name for himself to the point of being highly regarded by our New Orleans born server, she was impressed that we would know such people.
After our little adventure we headed to see VanGogh which there was no doubt of his brilliance. He had the ability to recreate himself as an artist later in life and evolve through his influences of people and of art. Brilliant. We tucked ourselves into a tiny pub with some well poured pints and blokes all around.
Our day ended after eating the best darn cheeseburger a human has ever consumed and heading to the Red Light District. I was amazed at how casual it is to be half naked standing in a store front and how little it struck me as odd. Maybe I have known too many whores in my life and it seems like they are simply among you or maybe the hype is simply not that bad. It was like any crowded street in any town with bars and sex shows (kind like being on US 19 except red.) The feel was not overly seedy. We did take in a live show and with a 4 drink complimentary ticket we were sure to see every act. Again, if you have seen any porn on TV there is no need to squeamish. Most ladies danced and stripped to a short series of songs and even the actual heterosexual intercourse was fairly traditional and unalarming. Though, there was a moment where a woman smoked a cigarette with her vagina and that to me was the most offensive demonstration of her talents.
Oh. For all those waiting for it, we didn't elope. Silly people.
Today I mowed my own lawn. I had never mowed a lawn before, so it was an exciting double whammy. Eliot took pictures of the proud moment. It was 80 degrees and I was wearing flip flops which I was told is not appropriate show gear for this sort of task but it turn out okay. I still have all ten toes. There is apparently also strategy involved. Some mowers like an up and down the aisle path, while others prefer the circular system. I have got to say, though it was my first time and all I think my diagonal sporadic approach did not only provided a bit more entertaining way of mowing but it worked just as well.
