The temperature when Rick and I arrived in Amsterdam was colder than it had been on Christmas Day. We were there to meet up with my Cape Cod cousins, who would be friends if they weren't relatives and who routinely come to Europe. Wherever they are I go meet up with them, creating wonderful memories of Bordeaux, Burgundy, Frankfurt, etc. Amsterdam was to create a new memory as they satisfied they urge for "old world" life. My cousin had found a charming hotel, not a chain. His only complaint there were no croissants for breakfast, but I thought the cheese with cumin and raisin bread more than made up for it.
Monday, the temperature went up and we decided to do the hop on hop off canal boat tour. Why this photo? Look closely at the word next to the window and O ticket shop. I don't think many tickets were sold.
Years ago in Milan I felt I was being attacked by 50 million Fiats. This trip to Amsterdam was 50 million bikes. Bikes to the right of me, bikes to the left of me. At least it was never a bike on my face. I do understand though why everyone is in such good shape. We could count the overweight people on the fingers of one hand. I can just imagine what Amsterdam would be like it all those bikes in the bike parking lot were cars.
As we crossed a bridge, we saw locks on the chain of the lock.I don't know the story behind it.
The view from our hotel window. So many of the buildings were decorated with tile. If there is an ugly part of the city, we missed it.
The canals made me wish Bruegel was there to paint the scene.
The port of Amsterdam is nothing like the Jacques Brel song (see the end of the blog for lyrics and youtube). No sailors pissing anywhere. The old ship Amsterdam is beautiful.
Rick discovered what people warned him about me was true. We arrived at the airport almost three hours early for the flight back to Geneva. I admit after working for Interskill and running through airports often with my shoes in my hand to be the last one bursting into the cabin, I'm neurotic about not missing a flight or rushing except to rush to be early. He's a just-in-time person. Neither of us are right or wrong, but as he said, he "enjoyed yanking my chain" once we were at the airport asking, "Do you think we have time to (fill in the blank) before the plane leaves. The fact that the gate hadn't been posted, just made him smile more. However, he didn't object to the nice lunch we had.
In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who sings
Of the dreams that he brings
From the wide open sea
In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who sleeps
While the riverbank weeps
With the old willow tree
In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who dies
Full of beer, full of cries
In a drunken down fight
And in the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who's born
On a muggy hot morn
By the dawn's early light
In the port of Amsterdam
Where the sailors all meet
There's a sailor who eats
Only fishheads and tails
He will show you his teeth
That have rotted too soon
That can swallow the moon
That can haul up the sails
And he yells to the cook
With his arms open wide
Bring me more fish
Put it down by my side
Then he wants so to belch
But he's too full to try
So he gets up and laughs
And he zips up his fly
In the port of Amsterdam
You can see sailors dance
Paunches bursting their pants
Grinding women to paunch
They've forgotten the tune
That their whiskey voice croaks
Splitting the night with the
Roar of their jokes
And they turn and they dance
And they laugh and they lust
Till the rancid sound of
The accordion bursts
Then out to the night
With their pride in their pants
With the slut that they tow
Underneath the street lamps
In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who drinks
And he drinks and he drinks
And he drinks once again
He drinks to the health
Of the whores of Amsterdam
Who have promised their love
To a thousand other men
They've bargained their bodies
And their virtue long gone
For a few dirty coins
And when he can't go on
He plants his nose in the sky
And he wipes it up above
And he pisses like I cry
For an unfaithful love
In the port of Amsterdam
In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who sings
Of the dreams that he brings
From the wide open sea
In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who sleeps
While the riverbank weeps
With the old willow tree
In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who dies
Full of beer, full of cries
In a drunken down fight
And in the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who's born
On a muggy hot morn
By the dawn's early light
In the port of Amsterdam
Where the sailors all meet
There's a sailor who eats
Only fishheads and tails
He will show you his teeth
That have rotted too soon
That can swallow the moon
That can haul up the sails
And he yells to the cook
With his arms open wide
Bring me more fish
Put it down by my side
Then he wants so to belch
But he's too full to try
So he gets up and laughs
And he zips up his fly
In the port of Amsterdam
You can see sailors dance
Paunches bursting their pants
Grinding women to paunch
They've forgotten the tune
That their whiskey voice croaks
Splitting the night with the
Roar of their jokes
And they turn and they dance
And they laugh and they lust
Till the rancid sound of
The accordion bursts
Then out to the night
With their pride in their pants
With the slut that they tow
Underneath the street lamps
In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who drinks
And he drinks and he drinks
And he drinks once again
He drinks to the health
Of the whores of Amsterdam
Who have promised their love
To a thousand other men
They've bargained their bodies
And their virtue long gone
For a few dirty coins
And when he can't go on
He plants his nose in the sky
And he wipes it up above
And he pisses like I cry
For an unfaithful love
In the port of Amsterdam
In the port of Amsterdam
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