Oh dam

Pretty Canals

Haha, hey Amsterdam

Sitting on the carpet in my friends apartment in the centre of Amsterdam I can hear the church bell tolling and feel the temperature dropping. The bell rings every 15 minutes so it just becomes light and cheery background noise after the initial irritation passes. We're conveniently situated in the centre of dam, right next to the red light district, lovely coffee shops and gorgeous art galleries so we have sex, weed and art at our doorstep, perfect getaway. I'm here staying with a girlfriend for a little break from the madness that is London. I've been surprised by a few things since I've been here 1) not many people actually speak English. The one downfall of not being bi-lingual :s, so navigating my way through platforms and stations that all had kooky names wasn't too easy - thankfully I'd been given directions, all of which were perfect except the spelling mistake of the house number '85' instead of '58'. This lead to some rather exasperating conversations with neighbours that didn't understand a thing I was saying, and those that did were telling me what I refused to accept 'there's no house number 85 around here'. But despite the slight confusion I eventually made it safe and sound. The second thing that surprises me is the not so lackadaisical attitude towards weed. I expected to walk around with fumes of spliff drifting through the air and joints casually being rolled next to the pretty canals, but as I was told by my friend yesterday, that's really not what goes on. Police roam the streets fining public smokers or people with (a rather unlikely amount) >9g in possession, and the frowned upon image of teenage stoners,  is still frowned upon. But it's a fair system that I think should be adopted by more countries, the novelty isn't present if it's so readily available, the coffee shops swarm with tourists, not locals - and the government makes money off us all! The laws are changing, but I doubt they'll last.

Bicycle traffic

Before I came to Holland all I imagined were flat grounds and copious bicycles, and the stereotype rings true! It's so lovely though, I feel a lot more inclined to move out of the way when I hear a bell ring for a bicycle to get passed me as opposed to a loud horn and a bulky convertible. It also adds to the freshness of the air - here you feel like you're actually taking in more oxygen compared to London where the air can be stifling.
Speaking of breathing I learnt an interesting fact the other day -- to 'inspire' or to breathe in, is the root of the concept of inspiration. And if you think about it, when you're inspired you take a deep breath in amazement or admiration for the person, place or thing and you therefore gain something of value. I love looking at the etymology of words, it adds a whole new layer to something that was once flat ground - a bit like Holland, ha.

The second bell just tolled and I'm rocking side to side slightly, trying to keep my eyes open in my fairly delusional state. Over the passed three weeks I don't feel like I've had 1 proper nights sleep and last night didn't help. Flights in the early hours of the morning used to excite me more than anything. Getting up when it's pitch black to go on an adventure somewhere in the world gave me butterflies. But now nothing could be worse than waking up in the cold darkness, and attempting to function well enough to catch your flight on time. I decided against having 3 hours of sleep because that groggy feeling is almost worse than not sleeping at all. And I've come to realize the danger of this - I'd be staring at a painting to realize that the painting wasn't actually spinning in circles around me but when my eyelids had closed for the last blink in-between my nonsensical thoughts, had lasted longer than a few minutes and I was now dreaming. I managed this by setting an alarm every half an hour, much to the annoyance of whoever was sitting next to me but sacrifices had to be made. So now the endless days of not giving my body its 8 hours of sleep is catching up with me, and by 6pm, or after a puff on a joint, my eyes are droopier than the image to the right..

An old friend!

I had to slightly gather myself together and make an effort to socialize with a friend that I hadn't seen in a few months - he introduced me to my first coffee shop, that was by far the best - "Relax" (Binnen Oranjestraat 91013 HZ). I walked in and was sucked into the trip - crystals growing out of the tables, trippy colours and paintings all over the walls and images of eyes made out of beautiful stained glass. I enjoyed the experience while it was still a novelty, it was the strangest thing ordering weed from a menu over the counter and it being OK! You literally choose your strains off a menu, and a communal vibe of rolling and smoking. Looking around me as my head was floating into space I held onto the crystal to ground me and ensure my whole body didn't float off. It was so strange looking around me and wondering whether everyone else was feeling the same when their external appearance looked 100% normal.. besides the red, droopy eyes and the giggles. 

Pies..

It didn't take too long before our stomachs were rumbling and we made our way to the only English food joint that I knew in the area 'Pieminister' - I've figured out the reason why McDonalds, Starbucks etc etc are all so succesful are because no matter where you are, you always know what to expect of the ambiance, the menu, the music etc. it's always guaranteed so it makes people feel comfortable and 'at home'. That's how I felt in the pieminister, surrounded by Dutchies but yumming down a spinach, sundried tomatoes and feta pie with mushy peas and gravy made me feel right at home :) -- Mm so far Amsterdam, you've served me well. 



Recipe of the day: Feta, tomato and spinach pie 

http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/4540/crispy-greekstyle-pie-