Herrings, hash, and hussies

Got up late this morning. My circadian clock is still set to PST, I think. We dashed on our clothes and headed up to the dam so Dan could get his money (and he is blessed with victory). While he handles business, I trotted around Dam Square where carnival rides are spinning their gears in front of the royal palace. Across the street, pigeons and tourists flocked to the war memorial, so I did. While standing there, Busta Rhymes' tour bus pulls up and ten or fifteen bizness associates pour out looking bored with it all.

A couple of canals over is the red light district. We are heading to the docklands and Nemo, but a trip through smut-town sounds okay to us! On the second bridge sat Henk's Herring, and who could say no to that? A couple of herrings later and around the corner, we found ourselves in the Hash Marijuana & Hemp Museum. Very informative literature and history on cannabis. We were also treated to a view inside their growing operation, a rare opportunity. Within ten minutes, the museum had lost its luster, so we meandered up the canal, getting looks and window taps from the women behind glass. Some just sit there and talk on their cell phones. I figure that looking bored is a ploy to make themselves more desirable.

Adjusting ourselves on the way out, we oriented ourselves toward the docklands. The peacefulness of the docklands calmed our labidos and we were swept away by the views of boats and commented regularly on the supreme knot work on many of them. Dan and I split up from there, and I made my way toward Centraal Station to pick up John. Somehow we found each other in the bustling station, hugged, then started the journey back to the apartment. By this time I'd figured out the various routes home and we arrived in no time at all.

Together we destroyed many beers in celebration of John's arrival. His friend, Matthius, ventured out to greet him and show us a good time. He suggested a place on De Wag, which took us back through the Red Light district. This time it was late at night and we found the streets packed with tourists and learing gangs of frat boys. The women were even more exotic, dancing under black lights and booty shakin'. At the bar, we ordered more beer and talked story. Matthius needed to be home, so we finished our beer and said goodnight.