Amsterdam, Laundry

OK, this is getting ridiculous: Sat. morning I forced myself out of bed at 10 to (supposedly) pack up my laundry (at the place that opens at 10) and catch a bus north to Amsterdam. However, the building was locked at 10, which left me at a loss, as the sign on the front door left little room for misinterpretation: August 16th, 2008, 10:00-20:00 Marlies Van de Walle (the name of the girl who was supposed to open). I waited around a few minutes, but after no sign of life, I went to Marlies' room to see what was up (the room number was also on the sign). I knocked on her door with no response, and her neighbor soon came out to inform me that Marlies was, of course, "on holiday". On holiday?! That's just flipping fantastic. Why wouldn't she be? What a life. Don't want to open the laundry room on the one day a month you're supposed to? Go to the beach! Screw the clueless American who's had clothes in the dryer (not fully dry, mind you) since Wed. night.

Amsterdam was a good time. It was great running around with Jurrien -- someone who knew the city well. We toured around the red light for a while, hit a few bars, then went to the club. There we met one of Jurrien's friends, Maurice, and the three of us hired a Korean prostitute to hang out with us for the rest of the night. I paid a little extra so that I could go first--Nice!


I'm kidding. We actually saw this girl in the stairway, and after seeing that her dress, like Jurrien's shirt, was purple, I acted like two people wearing the same color (different shades, no less) was the rarest phenomenon I had ever experienced. "Club purple" was born, (another member soon joined), and we had made friends for the night. I was drunk enough and comfortable enough to showcase my lack of coordination on the dance floor all night for anyone who wanted the entertainment--it was a fun time.

The quintessential Amsterdam experience could only end one way:You guessed it! By visiting the Van Gogh and Rijks museum, showcasing some of The Netherlands' most famous artists. I also wanted to visit the Anne Frank House, but the line was a half hour long, and though the house would have been neat to see, I figured the diary itself was the most revered piece of history that Frank left, which I had read on my last trip through.

An experience to remember! On to Munich...