In the hustle and bustle of the last week (in the last week, between the pointless physical therapy and other meetings, I had stuff to do every afternoon after work) I forgot (not really) about my trip to Amsterdam last weekend.
It was a splendid long weekend: I left Berlin first thing Friday morning and, thanks to my familiarity with everything, walked on Amsterdam Centraal Station plaza just before 11:00. In the intervening space, I’d flown, navigated Schiphol Airport, bought a train ticket, and put way too much money onto my OV-Chipcaart (public transit ticket for The Netherlands).
I had a wonderful time – I went to Amsterdam to meet some friends for the weekend and to hang out – but since they were working, I had the day to kill, which I killed with a trip to Amsterdam’s gay bookshop, lunch with the Texpatriate, visiting the new Apple Store (briefly), and having a few drinks with a working colleague at one of Amsterdam’s few remaining authentic brown bars.
Once I met up with my friends, we had a lovely time – including indulging my new photography hobby, going to the movies (saw Albert Nobbs – Glenn Close is very convincing, but there wasn’t a plot), eating all you can eat sushi, and, last but not least, going to Haarlem for a walk around town.
The only down side to the weekend was the fact that I gained weight: Friday I passed a bakery with a line out the door, so I joined the line and bought an apple pie – it was the very best apple pie I have ever had in my life. Foolishly I did not write down the name of the bakery. Then, Saturday, at the all you can eat sushi restaurant, I lacked proper restraint – and I didn’t need food again until late Sunday morning.
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