And I could’ve tried to act a little less butt-hurt about it.
Idiot.
‘So, do you like Amsterdam?’
I’m sitting in a cavernous bar in a hotel in the centre of the city, a wall of glass looking out into the dark street. I turn to my companion, not someone I know or someone I’ve invited to have a drink with me. But it’s a bar. In a hotel. In a city. Full of people travelling for business, alone. You find companionship where you can—even sitting at a bar, because it beats being alone. ‘What’s not to like?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe the people? The bike lanes? The fact that we can’t queue for shit?’So a local, then.
‘The people? I love ’em. The bike lanes? Yeah, they’re not fun. Especially when you accidentally step into one. It’s like taking your life in your own hands, as well as a decent lesson in swearing.’
‘Yes, that’s very true.’ My companion laughs. ‘We are a little militant about our cycle lanes. Step into them and someone will curse your whole lineage with a nasty disease. That’s not so good.’
‘Yes, but you also have canals, and pretty streets, museums, and beer.’ I raise the brown bottle in my hand as though toasting all the great things Amsterdam has to offer before I tip it back a little to read the label in the dim light.
Arcense Bierbrouwerij Hertog Jan Tripel
8.5% alcohol.
Jesus. Another couple of these and I won’t be able to make my way back to my room.
‘Is there anything else you like about Amsterdam?’
The people, bike lanes, canals, pretty streets, museums, beer.I run through the list in my head. What else?
‘The food,’ I manage to say, pulling the word out of my head in the vein ofeureka!
‘Really? The food?’ My companion laughs, adding a little shake of the head.
‘You don’t believe me?’ I find myself laughing along before my gaze slides to the big screen TV to the left of the bar. Ajax is playing at home, which gives me another item to add to my list.Football and AFC Ajax.
‘We’re not known for our food, beyond it being plain and a little... what’s the word? Stodgy?’
‘I dunno where you’ve been eating, but the food I’ve had over the past couple of days has been great.’ Honestly? It’s been a little dull, apart from the pickled herring, which was a culinary experience I don’t ever want to repeat. Still, I’m at the stage where I could kill for a bowl of spicy pho.
‘Really? I don’t believe you! What have you had that was so tasty?’
‘I hadpoffertjesyesterday.’
‘Lieveling, that’s not food. More like a snack.’
And if it was the kind of lunch that was served with wine and followed by dessert.
‘Bitterballen, then.’
The kind where people spent hours at the table, too stuffed with food to move.
‘Meatballs. Also a snack.’
Relaxed in good company. Fake arguing over the dishes.
‘Oliebollen?’ After this, I have nothing but pickled herring.
‘More spherical-shaped snacks? Do you have some fascination with balls?’
I laugh loudly. ‘Maybe my own.’
‘You knowOliebollenmeans oil balls?’
