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RICK'S BIG TRIP page 6 |
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These two
shots are dedicated to my favorite coffee shop back at home. You can’t
“get high” at the shops back home, but at Idyllwild’s own Café Aroma you can
get a darn good cup of coffee. And I’ve heard that – now that I’ve left town
– they started serving alcohol too. Yeah, when I get back I’m gonna go right
over to my favorite mountain café and get loaded! PAAAAAR-TAY! Meanwhile,
here’s a little souvenir from Holland: a reproduction of an old Dutch “Aroma
Koffie” can. Can’t you just smell those beans a-roastin’? |
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And
what’s this? “Aroma Grand Café” in the heart of Amsterdam? Hey you
guys, this place may be set in an old town known internationally as a Mecca
of excess, but it hasn’t got the ambience of our little mountain town. The sweet
gal, barely discernable, posing in front of the café is Monica. (For a better
view, check Monica’s web
site) I met her on the internet too. She showed me around some hip spots
in Amsterdam, and on August 4th we’re going to a big dance fest
just outside Amsterdam. |
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For the
most part, we’re all one big western European society, with little
differences in language. But I love these subtle variations in, for instance,
what’s considered decent. Here I am making use of one of the public urinals.
It’s kind of cute the way passers-by can check the look of great relief on
the face of the urinator, and folks walking by can even watch the pee
channelling down the drain in the pavement (if they want to). And this is one
of the more enclosed variations! Back in the US, as you know, the details of
urination are a carefully guarded secret. |
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If you
carefully followed the account of my European Vacation 1999, you
were introduced to Han and Maartje, on their little old houseboat, which was
originally built as a freight vessel in 1905. Well that’s a piece of ancient
history. They now have a modern houseboat, which is more along the lines of a
spacious suburban home, made to float on the river. It’s really the most
ideal living situation: right there in the heart of the city, below the din
of the streets, great big windows open to the tranquil view over the Amstel
River. Lots of light, a little toddler running around (his name should not be
missed: Luko Amstel van der Maas – that’s the names of 2 Dutch rivers), and
one on the way (due in August). What a life. |
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But life
on the woonboot takes a serious turn, when Rick, visiting challenger
from the United States, takes on the boat’s reigning champion Han in a
dramatic series of speed chess games. I started with a strong edge – my
opponent seemed nervous, had a hard time focusing, kept losing on time – but
the tide turned on the Amstel when Han settled in and started making good on
his attacks. When my train back to Utrecht was about to leave, we were about
even…but I knew that Han (“the Man”) was just getting started with his
winning edge. The match outcome? – undecided. |
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Did I
mention my trip to Vlieland? (That’s pronounce “Flea-lahnd”) Up on the
northern edge of Holland there’s this string of islands, accessible only by
boat. One day I said to myself, think I’ll go up to one of them islands.
Hopped on a train up north, got on the ferry, rented a bike, and there I was
cruising through another face of Holland. Sandy hills of grass and trees,
fresh ocean air, folks on vacation camping, lots of Dutch and German
tourists. I
finished the day of traveling and touring by dancing my little Yankee butt
off in a touristy nightclub, among a bunch of drinking teenagers. Here in the
Netherlands, they have a rule that you can’t drink before you’re 16 years
old. It’s a little different in the puritanical, post-prohibition States. Another
thing that’s a little different in a Dutch nightclub: the popular dancing
music. Let me put it this way: a bad day of pop music in the US is better
than a good day of pop music in Northern Europe. The worst of American pop –
stuff that never made it in the States – mixed with oom-pa and seafaring
chants. And don’t expect so see anybody move their hips when they dance or
clapping their hands to the up-beat. Cultural deprivation, desperately in
need of African influence. |
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And
here’s something cute on the dock, just before I almost missed my boat out of
Vlieland: a little horse-drawn baggage wagon. Isn’t the old world charming? |
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