And One for Jaan

And One for Jaan

            Today, we woke up at 04:00.  We had little more than a nap, and I did not sleep soundly.  I had crazy nightmares, some of which were about being a wise, old man.  Weird.

            After groggily showering, I started stumbling down the stairs.  As I was coming down, I could have sworn I heard Will chatting up a British-Indian girl.  Now, I knew this couldn’t be true – Will doesn’t talk to people he knows, much less random girls in a hostel.  I reached the bottom of the stairs, and my jaw dropped.  HE WAS!  Spooky.

Once I had wrapped my head around the situation, we went to the lobby and checked out.  The Tube wasn’t running yet, so we had the hostel call a cab for us.  We got the bus station with some time left before check-in.  Check in started pretty late, so Will and I sat there.  We were at those bus station benches with two sides.  One seat down and behind me was this really fat dude with the worst snoring problem ever.  His head was hanging backwards and to the side at an odd angle.  He would start curling up as he struggled to inhale, almost like a hedgehog.  Then, on exhalation, he would unravel very suddenly.  It was driving me crazy.

Eventually, check-in started.  Since I was determined not to be stuck next to Blue again, I made sure Will and I were at the front of the line and could get our own seats.  Like the bottle of wine!  Sure enough, we got on the bus first and had two seats to ourselves.  It was going to be a long bus ride.  It left at 06:30 and got in at 18:30.  Fucking 12 hours on the bus.

Will and I killed a little time by watching Starship Troopers 2.  We eventually stopped for food.  When we got to Wales, we had to get off at the same passport control office as when we came over from Dublin.  However, instead of checking our passport, they made us walk through the facility.  That’s it.  Just a circular walk through the facility.  Super secure, Wales.  Good job.

From Wales, we got on the hotel boat again.  We sat down for the several-hour boat ride.  Will and I spent most of the boat ride updating the stats and adding new stats.  Yes, I know the “4^th quarter” is over, but you’re just getting final statistics tomorrow.  Suck it up.  I promise they’ll be worth the wait and amusing.  While sitting on the boat, an English couple sat next to us.  They looked to be about 16.  The girl might have been 15.  It turns out the dude was 17 and the girl was 20.  I called her a cradle-robber.  Anyways, they were nice.  We chatted with them about tons of stuff, but definitely a lot about national stereotypes.  I told them we need feed bags with blended McDonalds inside.

Finally, we got to Dublin.  We went to our hostel and checked in.  Then, we grabbed some vegetables and tried to cook dinner.  I was responsible for the pasta, and Will was responsible for the vegetables.  Will failed epically and burned the shit out of the vegetables.  He blamed the light source.  I blamed leaving them in the pan too long.  We got more vegetables, and then he succeeded with flying colors (he attributes this to more light, I attribute it to cooking it for less time).  They were delicious.  We watched Season of the Witch, which was one of Nicholas Cage’s better movies.  There was a demon and fire.  We approved.


While we were cleaning up, Will apparently had some conversation with some girls from Colorado about fire.  They exchanged fire stories.  One girl lit a pool on fire.  Will says she may be his hero.  I don't know what's gotten into Will.  I think he may have contracted a social life.  Antibiotics to follow.

Bed occurred at some point..

Will’s Corner

            Sometimes it helps to be able to see what you’re doing.  Flashlights can be helpful in this respect.

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Dear Joe,

            You need no holy book to vanquish witches and demons.  You can just party them into the ground.  You are truly a party crusader.

Love,

Will and Andy

And One for Prophecy

And One for Prophecy

            Paris is a cursed city.

            Every time one of us has gone to Paris, something terrible has happened.  The first time Will went, his flight got delayed for three days or something, and I think he got mauled by a bear.  The first time I went was earlier in this trip.  If you’ll recall, we didn’t have a hostel the first night, and everything was booked.  Paris has been the only city where that has happened.  Beer was inordinately expensive at the one hostel we DID stay at, and both of my attempts to go to the Catacombs (I’ve always wanted to go there) ended in failure.

            This time was no different.  We woke up early and tried to get out train ticket and go to the Catacombs.  At the train station, the only tickets we could get cost 183€ MINIMUM.  That was the cheapest fucking ticket.  Were we dumb not doing it in advance?  Yes.  Does Paris suck?  Bigger yes. 

            Then, we tried to check our bags in a locker.  Guess what?  Gare du Nord was full.  Yes, every single baggage locker in their massive facility was full.  We had to pay an extra metro fare to get to Gare de l’Est and check our bags there.  Goddamnit.

At the Catacombs, there wasn’t just a line.  There was a line that stretched around THE ENTIRE FUCKING PARK.  Even if I had waited, I wouldn’t have gotten in before 16:00, when they close.  Will called this like two months ago.  He said I’d never see them.  He’s like the Oracle of Delphi, but he’s from Rhode Island, and he’s not a female Greek virgin tripping balls on volcanic fumes (well, maybe he is that last part).

            I drowned my tears in the absorbent fries of McDonalds (it has free WiFi, and it’s the only affordable thing in Paris).  The French McDonalds franchise has created something epic.  They have self-service kiosks that work in 5-6 languages.  They only take credit, but you can put in your order and customize it however you want.  For once, Will was able to get his cheeseburger without pickles and mustard.  There was much rejoicing.

            I had been trying to see Camille, since she was in town.  However, that didn’t work out.  She was off doing Camille-type things, so that was sad.  Will and I got on our train and went to London.  On the train, Will finished Apocalypse Now.  I was certainly there, the laptop was in front of me, and I had earphones in.  Did I mention how boring the end is?  I passed out.  Again.

            We got into London and went to our hostel.  It was Friday rush hour, so the Metro was packed.  Will had murder in his eyes.  It was bad.  British people were standing in one place, saying shit like, “You can’t even move!”  My standard response was, “Yes, you can. *push through*”  That’s how we do it back home. 

            When we got to The Green Man (yeah, we went back), we saw Mimmi (she uses two M’s,” apparently) and Jaan.  We were happy to see them, and they were happy to see us.  Mimmi checked us in, and Will and I ordered four beers, two each.  We also told Mimmi stories of our fantastic voyage.

            After a beer and a half, I realized how angry I had been all day.  I didn’t realize how pissed I was until beer made me happy.  Holy shit, I was angry.  As with the Catacombs, Will called this.  He knew I was pissed, and he knew just how much beer it would take to solve that.  Once bouncy and joyous again, Will and I went to get some fine British cuisine.

            Did I say British cuisine?  I meant WOK TO WALK.  Yeah, there’s one in London.  It was delicious (suck it, Viv).  We also brought some back for Mimmi.  Jaan poured us another Staropramen (brilliant!), and while we were drinking it, these two Irish guys started talking to me.  First, they were shitfaced.  Second, they were hung up on the idea that Americans don’t know how to insult people properly.  The Irishmen explained that heavily insulting your friends is the key to building a rapport.  One of them started going on and on about women about two inches from my face, then maybe five from Will’s.  He was spraying spit everywhere every time he talked.  His main topic of conversation was “riding sluts” and how it “must be done” (i.e., it was required).   He also had a very low opinion of Irish girls.  I quote Jacques on the matter, and he agreed fervently.  He loved Americans girls, though…just like Jacques.  Irish, waaaay-drunker version of Jacques?  Perhaps.  Less creepy than Jacques?  Hells yeah.

After escaping the drunken Irishmen, Will and I tried to book a bus to Dublin.  The night bus we took last time was full, so we had to book the 06:30 bus.  Mimmi let us use the hostel’s office printer to print out our ticket.  Thank you, Mimmi.  You’re the best!

            Will and I then went to sleep as fast as possible, since we had to wake up in like…three and a half hours.

Will’s Corner

            Your pain.  My amusement.

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Dear Joe,

            You’re not cursed.  You’re blessed…with the power to rage.  Still, avoid Paris at all costs.

Love,

Will and Andy 

And One for Bart (and His ‘Raris)

And One for Bart (and His ‘Raris)

            Liz and I stayed up pretty late, so I did not want to get out of bed.  I kept flailing and hitting the alarm.  Will didn’t want to come out of his badger den either, so I don’t feel too bad.  Will and I checked out of the hostel and made our way to the PIZZA HUT BUFFET that we had seen with Walker yesterday.

            It was closed until noon.  Will and I were briefly despondent, but then we realized we could just watch the Deadliest Warrior episode that came out last night.  We went back to the hostel, downloaded it, and watched it.  Shit was rigged so Joan of Arc would win, but whatever (there were explosions, we don’t care). 

            Finally, the time for Pizza Hut buffet arrived.  It would be the first since London.  It wasn’t quite as glorious as we hoped.  It was more expensive, and there was neither a pasta bar nor an included salad bar.  Furthermore, there were no infinite refills on drinks.  Sadness.  Whatever, we were full. 

            Will and I grabbed a bus to the train station and tried to book a ticket to Paris.  Their computers were down, so they told us to go to Brussels (no reservation required).  Will and I got on the train, ready for the one-hour hop to Brussels.  We don’t really understand the concept of a one-hour train anymore.  Do you remember that time we accidentally went to Bucarest?  Yeah, that kinda happened again.  We ended up in Liege.  Naptime happens.

             In Liege, we had a soda and booked a one-star hotel in Paris (cheaper than a Paris hostel).  We tried to get a ticket to Paris, and they said it would cost us like 27€.  I asked if there were a cheaper way, and the lady said we could take a train to Lille, then transfer to Paris.  That would only cost us 3€, but would get us in at midnight.  That was fine with us.

            As expected, we got into Paris late as well.  We promptly got lost trying to find our hotel.  While trying to find it, several things happened.  First, the French were extremely snooty about their language.  I had more than one conversation like this (if my French is spelled incorrectly, I don’t give a shit.  They should learn what letters mean and not throw them around like maniacs):

Me:  Pardon, parlez vous Anglais?

French Person (in French, rough translation):  You are in France!  You should speak French.

Me:  Uh…pale Italiano?  Hablas Español?

French Person (still in French):  Hah!  No!  You are in France!  Speak French!  FRENCH FRENCH FRENCH *laugh at Andy, mock him*

          This seriously happened like four times in 40 minutes.  Back home, if someone doesn’t speak English but they give me three language choices, I feel bad for not understanding them.  They are clearly worldly, they just happened to learn languages that aren’t mine.  That’s not a problem, I just feel bad I can’t help them.  I don’t fucking make fun of them. 

          The language thing is the only thing I have against the French.  They’re nice and they generally want to help you or have a good time.  They just suck when it comes to their language (and maybe cheese *coughCLOTILDEcough*).  

          We finally found our way thanks to a lovely French woman with awesome dogs (neither she nor her dogs gave us shit about the language.  The dogs just licked our faces and wagged their tails).  She even drew us a map!  As we were walking, these two drunk-ass French dudes started giving us shit about not speaking French (surprise!).  They actually came out of nowhere to do this.  However, they gave us free beer, so we didn’t mind.

          We got upstairs, watched a little Apocalypse Now (I was too sleepy to finish because it’s three hours long, and it gets really boring near the end), and went to bed. 

Will’s Corner

          I guess I’ll have my Apocalypse later, if you don’t mind.

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Dear Joe,

          You don’t have to fight for your right to party.  Other people will do that for you.  You just keep on raging.

Love,

Will and Andy

And One for Eagle Warriors

And One for Eagle Warriors

            The first thing we did in Bruges was book hostels in London and Dublin.  We tried to be smarter than last time and book ahead in the two busiest countries.  We didn’t book for Paris because we thought we might be able to stay with either Lizzie or Camille/Clotilde or something. 

            For breakfast, we tried to go to a restaurant called Medard that Mr. Kindle recommended.  It was supposed to be the cheapest place in town.  That’s probably why it was booked until 15:00.  We made a dinner reservation for 18:00, then started walking over to a pancake place called Breton Pannekoeken or something along those lines. 

            Kelsey, this is where you are sad.  Will had a pancake filled with coconut and vanilla ice cream, sitting in a pool of Bailey’s Irish Cream Liqueur.  It was apparently delicious, and it was salted only by your tears. 

            While sitting in the Pannekoeken, we saw Walker from the previous night!  He was sitting with a red-headed British girl named Ema (yes, one “M”).  We talked with them a little, and then they left, saying they’d probably see us again at the Le Garre, a famous brewery / pub in Bruges.  We left soon after and headed towards Le Garre.

            Le Garre is VERY difficult to find.  The locals say you can’t miss it.  I call bullshit, since everyone does.  We walked down the street and saw nothing.  We walked back up the street against the opposite wall, pretty much feeling the wall for a secret passage.  We found one.  There was a tiny-ass little alley that was barely wide enough for one person.  If you’ve ever seen In Bruges, it was probably one of Yuri’s “alcoves.”  No, we didn’t murder anyone….this time.

            We walked into the tiny alley and lo, there was Le Garre.  What’s special about Le Garre is two things.  First, their beer is like 13% alcohol by volume.  Second, their pub is the only place you can drink it.  They brew it on-site, and they don’t sell it outside their restaurant.  You are limited to three because they don’t want people falling on their asses from their strong beer. 

            As we walked in, we saw Walker heading towards the bathroom.  He told us to go upstairs.  We sat down with Ema and chatted with her for a bit until Walker joined us.  Will and I joined them for a round of the house beer (it’s delicious).  Ema had to leave to catch her train, but Walker stayed with us.

            We ended up discussing the spirit animals thing with them.  Walker was enthused.  He explained that he believes that life is a river of Chi, and sometimes, people build dams that block that river.  He calls them “chi beavers.”  Also, he is one.  In addition to being a chi beaver, Walker was drunk.  This made him hilarious.

            Walker, Will, and I headed to the Choco Story, a Belgian chocolate factory with a tour.  We got free chocolate when we entered (tasty), but what was better were their ubiquitous Playmobile displays.  They used Playmobile for everything from Cortez murdering Aztecs to the farmer who invented milk chocolate to a trip to the dentist.  Check out this chick feeding a cow beer (that’s how you make chocolate in Belgium).

Happy cows come from California?  DRUNK COWS COME FROM BELGIUM.

            They also had this crazy chocolate mascot thing.  He gets crushed by machines and stolen by monkeys.

            He also gets possessed by HUMAN BEINGS.

Sup dudes?  We're chocolate. 

            After the tour, there was an exhibit of chocolate statues.  They had everything from ChocObama to crazy Russian rabbit doom things holding cheese.

There's actually a sign saying you can't eat the President

In Soviet Russia, cat feeds YOU! 

             We saw a demonstration of how to make filled pralines.  The demonstration was in Dutch, French, and English all at once.  The lady said every sentence in all three languages, so it took forever.  However, this was okay because we got to eat delicious Belgian pralines at the end.

            After the Choco-Story, the three of us went to Chocolate Line, a Belgian chocolate store.  Walker bought us a bacon chocolate and a vodka-lime chocolate.  Look at these things.

BACON! 

BOOZE!

RASPBERRY!

             I had a raspberry cream and vanilla something (see above) and some other stuff on top of those.  I just grabbed things that looked tasty.  Finally, it was time to go to Medard.  We sat down, and the lady asked us if we wanted our spaghetti small or large.  I glanced at a guy who had a large.  I have terrible spatial skills, and I couldn’t see the depth of his bowl.  It didn’t look very big.  You know what is big?  A GIANT CHOCOLATE ANTEATER.

Because why the fuck not? 

            Well, going back to the pasta, I was wrong.  Oh, how very wrong I was.  It was probably the largest portion of food I have ever been served.  Will had a small, the equivalent of a large portion at most restaurants.  This doom spaghetti destroyed my life.  It was tasty, though.  I couldn’t even finish it, which is absurd for me.  I eat everything in its entirety.  I’m kind of like the Sarlacc in the Great Pit of Carkoon.

            On our way back to the hostel, we saw the hat that will make me awesome.  Check this shit out.  You can see me “wearing” it in the reflection.  It totally makes me awesome, right? 

Walrus skull headdress includes neither staff with 

banana duct taped to it nor turtle orb

            I decided to join up with a pub crawl from our hostel.  Will had a beer with me before the pub crawl left.  I spent most of the night with these three Mancunian (that means they’re from Manchester) girls, Jess (who told Will her name was Mary), Chantel, and a girl who Will claims name is Liz.  I thought her name was Amy.  I think Will might be right.

            Anyways, we went to a bunch of bars.  I spent some time with Walker, and some time with a REALLY DRUNK Irishman named Sean.  Sean was very friendly.  After the pub crawl was over, I helped Liz (I still kinda think it might have been Amy, but we’ll go with Liz) walk her two friends back to the hostel.  Liz and I then went to The Crash, the rock bar that was our second stop.

           

            Liz and I had a beer and talked about all kinds of stuff.  Movies came up a lot, but this makes sense because she wants to go into film.  Smart girl.  After our beer, the two of us went back to the hostel.

Will’s Corner

            Apparently, Andy has eaten a few too many of the goldfish in his turtle pond and has inherited their memory capacity.

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Dear Joe,

            You are the ultimate party weapon to defeat North Korea…and their lack of having a good time.  Go forth, our son.

Love,

Will and Andy

And One for Harvesting Thyme

And One for Harvesting Thyme

            This morning, my alarm started going off.  Paul kept screaming that “ZE TIME IS NEIN” and I could not find my phone.  I thought it was in my backpack, but my head hurt so much, and my eyes were so bleary, and I just couldn’t figure out the lock.  Once I finally got it open (mind you, Paul is screaming at us this whole time, and I’m apologizing to the room constantly), I realize it’s not in the backpack.  It’s somewhere else.  After significant flailing, I discovered my pants crumpled up under the bed.  I turned off the alarm, switched it to not-Paul, and set it an hour forward.

            Will and I finally dragged ourselves out of bed at 10:00.  In the hostel lobby, we tried to find a hostel in Ghent.  There were no (affordable) hostels to be found.  We reserved a hostel in Bruges instead.  We then put our bags in a locker at the train station.

            For breakfast, we had something that isn’t Wok to Walk Wok to Walk again.  After I post this entry, I’m going to look for locations outside of the Netherlands.  At Wok to Walk, someone said “Hey!” to me.  I was confused at first, but then I realized it was the Israeli dude from the previous night!  Hooray! 

            After breakfast, Will and I grabbed the next train in the direction of Brussels.  We got off in Antwerp and transferred to another train.  I helped out a confused American family.  Eventually, we got to Bruges and checked into our hostel.  It’s pretty nice.  We had dinner at some little café thing.  I had a cheese omelette, a Dutch pancake with hot, melted Belgian chocolate, and a Belgian waffle (also with hot, melted Belgian chocolate).  Will had lasagna bolognese and a butter / sugar Dutch pancake for dessert.  

            After dinner, Will and I went to the hostel.  I worked on the blog.  While I was working, these two chicks come in the room.  One was an Aussie and the other was a Kiwi.  They were pretty drunk.  Their names were Lauren and Hannah.  They insisted I put them in the blog.  Apparently, when they checked in, some dudes were sleeping in their beds and it was some huge fiasco.  They contributed that “[they’re] having the time of [their] lives.”  They then burst into song.  Lauren and Hannah were irate that Will and I didn’t feel like drinking with them.  We were just in Amsterdam for four days!  I need a night off.  Finally, they said something about a bathroom party tomorrow morning.  No idea what the hell that’s about, but how can you possibly go wrong with a bathroom party?

Will’s Corner

            Do you Walk the Wok?

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Dear Joe,

            You Walk the Wok.

Love,

Will and Andy

And One for Spirit Animals

And One for Spirit Animals

            First, we switched hostels.  Cuddling with my William was great and all (blegh), but we like our separate beds.  Remember the whole “Will is like a territorial badger” thing?  Yeah.  Don’t piss off badgers (Will was long asleep by the time I got home, so I just kinda crawled into his badger den and he was none the wiser). 

            For breakfast, we had Wok to Walk (SURPRISE!).  Yeah, that’s right, fuckin’ Wok to Walk.  You know you’re jealous.  I would be too, if I were in your position (hint: it’s a position that lacks Wok to Walk, which is SOOOO GOOD). 

            Today, we decided to go hunting for a sword for me.  We first went to a flea market that I had heard of.  I saw one really nice looking sword.  I started to unsheathe it about two inches, just to look at the blade, and the dude started freaking out, going on about how it was dangerous, it would scare everyone, and I would probably murder the entire flea market.  I moved away from everyone and took out the sword.  It was blunt.  I don’t mean like blunt from use, I mean FLAT.  There is more of an edge on a butter knife.  It had like…a quarter-inch flat surface where the blade should have been.  It was not meant for combat.  Ever.  I would have an easier time murdering the flea market with my titanium fold-up spork.

            We then tried an antique store that Will had found on the interwebs.  It was more than a store.  It was a hub-market of like, tons of antique stores (probably between 10 and 20).  We actually found some pretty sweet blades.  There were two stores that had swords, but there was one I really liked.  It was from India, pretty old (waiting to hear the actual age from the owner, but it’s pre-1900).  It’s made of this crazy steel called Danast.  It’s supposed to be super strong, and it has these cool patterns in the blade from how the metal is worked.  It’s a long sword, mainly a thrusting weapon, but it has some thickness to it.  Tormented guard.  If I had to murder a flea market, I would greatly prefer this weapon.  However, that’s only if I had to murder a flea market.  I don’t think I need to.

            I bought it.  It was way cheaper than I expected.  Oh, you want a picture of it?  Sorry, I got too excited and totally forgot.  Here’s a picture of the dog that worked at the store.  She was very helpful.

What items do you seek, noble Sir?

            The store wasn’t willing to ship my blade.  They said that even though it’s totally legal, they didn’t want to go through the hassle.  We took it to a nearby post outlet, and they said they wouldn’t ship it because it was longer than 1m (it was like 1.01m, we measured it later).  The lady at the outlet gave us directions to DHL.

            Fail.  The next thing we knew, we were in the middle of nowhere at some industrial shipping depot.  It was not a place for customers looking to ship a parcel.  We got on a bus that took us to some random-ass train station.  There, we found another bus to take us back to Amsterdam. 

            For dinner, Will and I went to an Italian place.  At first, they wouldn’t give us tap water.  Will had some pepperoni and onion pizza thing.  I had a pizza and tagliatelli al burro.  I’ve been looking for a good butter sauce the entire trip, so this was the culmination of my epic quest.  At one point, the bartender came by and said, “I’m not supposed to do this, but here.”  He gave us tap water!  Then, when Will ordered dessert, he asked us if we wanted a drink on the house.  Free beer!  We gave him an epic tip.

            After that, I went on a pub crawl.  I decided to do it Joe-style.  I found that perfect point where all you want to do is dance and look at colorful strobe lights.  Everything else is secondary.  I kept getting confused when people would talk to me.  I took blog notes because I knew I’d forget everything, so I’ll just transcribe my notes verbatim:

“Netherdutchland:

Ok so I met rhianon and leandra from ausssie and they helpd meget a drink$$

Thebb I met mary and anne from Denmark and they were cool.  Anne liked toi dance

Then I met crazy british animal hippie chick??

Then I met Natalie something from england who was a fucking dance hurricane of broiken glasses and mary cra-eziness.

“Oh hay I’m supposed to tell people I have a voyfriend and stuff but I dunnio”

Oh but first I met nice dude from chile

Oh and the israeli”

            British animal hippie chick (??) spoke in such strong cockney that she sounded like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady when she is an urchin.  She actually said, “it’s more harder, i’n’t it?”  It was impressive.

            Natalie was crazy.  She was dragging me around and kicking glasses on the floor.  There was broken glass everywhere.  She reminded me a lot of my friend Mary.  I had no idea what was going on.  I just wanted to dance.  I got really confused when she started saying that her friends insist she inform everyone she has a boyfriend.  I was just dancing off by myself, Joe-ing it up. 

            I met some dude from Chile and another guy from Israel.  They were funny, but I was really focused on my attempt at being Joe.

Will’s Corner

            I am a sword-finding genius.  Sword-finder of a generation.

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Dear Joe,

Andy:  I tried to be like you.  I couldn’t handle the awesome, but the taste…the mere taste of it was unforgettable.  You are my hero.

Will:  You did it, B! 

Love,

Will and Andy

And One for Potatoes

And One for Potatoes

           

            Today, we bro-ed out.  Again.  I told you, it was our plan for Amsterdam.  The rain continued for a third day.  In fact, it had been raining so much that our tent was starting to leak.  We decided to leave the camp site a day early. 

            We went into town, booked a hostel using a coffeeshop’s internet, and had breakfast at Wok to Walk.  Awww yeah (it’s so FUCKING good).  Like, we were such eager beavers for Wok to Walk that we were outside their door when they opened.  We were the first customers of the day.  That’s how delicious it is.  It’s also not pizza.

            After super tasty Wok to Walk, we moved into The Flying Pig.  When I reserved the hostel, I saw that my only choices were “0 people” or “2 people.”  I thought this was weird, since you can normally choose something in between those two numbers (like, say “1 person”).   However, I paid this no mind.  When we arrived at the Flying Pig, my confusion was cleared.  Will and I were sharing a double bed.   It came with two separate blankets, two separate pillows, and one (fairly large) mattress. 

            The Flying Pig had a kitchen, so we cooked a meal.  This was probably a good thing, since we’ve been spending all of our money on beer and Wok to Walk (it’s SO GOOD).  Hell, I don’t even call it “stir fry.”  It has its own name; it is its own food.  Hell, I’d eat it right now. 

            Will and I finished watching The Rite.  It was pretty good.  We continued to bro out.  One thing we did while broing out was identifying the spirit animals of all of our roommates from Junior and Senior year.  Guess who likes tables!

Table 1: Roommates and spirit animals.

Person	Animal	Reason	Picture
Will	Badger	Likes to burrow, wander, will sometimes pick dumb fights.  Somewhat anti-social.  Territorial.
Andy	Turtle	Will says it’s self-evident.
Chris	Black Bear	It’s Chris.
Cabbie	Bird of Paradise	Lots of colors, complex mating dances, kinda sketchy bird, would probably drink warm Natti.
Joe	Wombat	Who wouldn’t want to rage with a wombat?  You wanna hang out with a wombat?  HOW DO YOU SAY NO TO THAT?

            After broing out, I wandered through Amsterdam.  I picked a direction that we had never been in before (East) and just walked.  Forever.  At one point, I saw lots of red lights and all-but-naked women standing in windows winking at me.  I was confused for probably a full ten seconds before going, “OHHHHH.  Amsterdam.  Right.”

            I ended up at Wok to Walk at like 02:15.  Go figure.

Will’s Corner

            He is such a turtle.

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Dear Joe,

            Broseidon, Lord of the Brocean, where are you?  We need you now more than ever.

Love,

Will and Andy

And One for Things Yet to Come

And One for Things Yet to Come

This was our typical day in Amsterdam.  First, we went to an amazing restaurant called Wok to Walk.  The menu works like this:

            You end up getting a shit-ton of amazing food.  We only ever ordered things with teriyaki because their teriyaki sauce was epically delicious.  After Wok to Walk, we sat around and had beer in a coffeeshop.  After a few hours, we went to a place called “Pancakes!”  I had a Dutch pancake with chocolate followed by American pancakes with maple syrup.  Will had American pancakes with syrup and bacon. 

            It was about then that we realized all we wanted to do in Amsterdam was eat, drink, sit around, and bro out.  After Pancakes!, we went and had another beer or two at a different coffeeshop.  Eventually, it was time for dinner.  Our dinner menu?  WOK TO WALK.  It’s so good. 

            We got back to our tent at like 3 or 4 or something.  It was raining forever.  First, we finished watching Skyline in the tent.  That movie is dumb.  I love bad sci-fi / horror movies, but it was just…so bad.  It wasn’t even funny-bad.  It was just terrible.  We watched half of The Rite with Anthony Hopkins.  My laptop ran out of battery part way through.

Will’s Corner

            Meow.

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Dear Joe,

            We’re walk to your wok any day.

Love,

Will and Andy

And One for Señor Drogas (x6)

And One for Señor Drogas (x6)

            For breakfast, Will grabbed some baked goods from the Back Factory.  I was a bit too hungry for just baked goods, so I got an entire pizza for myself.  It was tasty.  Amsterdam is super expensive, so Will and I planned to stay at a campsite for ¾ of our nights in Amsterdam. 

            When we got into Amsterdam, we hopped on a ferry that landed us about 2km from the campsite.  We hiked over and checked in.  It was about twice the price we were expecting, and we had to buy a tent.  We got one second-hand from them for a reasonable price.  After pitching the tent, Will and I grabbed a four day transportation pass and took a bus into town.

            If you ever go to Amsterdam, know this: you need to not only check in with your transport pass, but also check out.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a subway, tram, or bus.  If you don’t check out, it voids your card.  Don’t forget it!

            As a sidenote, if you’ve ever played The Sims, Dutch sounds exactly like Simmglish.  I don’t speak German, but when I hear German speech, I understand that words are being said – it sounds like a language.  When I hear Dutch, it just sounds like gibberish.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s great.  The Dutch sound super excited and happy about EVERYTHING!  Some guy gave me directions on a bus, and his accent/tone of voice made it sound like he was so…happy for me.  I’ll put the subtext from his accent in brackets:

            “You’re going to get on the (whatever)straat, [and you’re going to have a great time].  Then, you’ll take a left, [and it’s going to be awesome].  You’ll then be on the Prinsengracht, [and you’re going to love it there].”  Seriously.  He sounded that excited for me.  Everything in my day was just going to be the best thing ever, and he was so happy to inform me of it.  Again, if you missed it, the stuff in brackets was the subtext from his accent / tone.  Dutch people are friendly.

            Once we got into town, we checked out the local coffeehouses and bars.  We had dinner at some point, but that’s not important.  What IS important is that we ended up at this place called Happy Bar (I think it was Happy Bar, at least).  We call it Elli’s bar.  Elli was our kiwi bartender.  She was great.  For my first drink, I had a Liquid Apple Pie.  Will had a couple caipiriñas.  I had a taste of his, and it was a damn good caipiriña.  Will and I ended up ordering a bunch of the things.

            While sitting at the bar, the dude next to me starts talking.  This guy was in his late 30s, wearing sunglasses in the dark bar.  I start chatting with him, and he starts rolling a huge joint.  His name was Bart, and he was ridiculous.  According to him, he made millions of dollars in the debt resettlement industry.  Bart was frequently spouting racist epithets and talking about “the ‘raris, bitch!” Yes, he called Ferraris “ ‘raris.”  He also wanted us to get into his business.  Bart claimed to be old, lazy, and way too rich.  However, he had a dialer back home, and all he wanted was a young guy with some drive to pick up the business and give him a little off the top. 

I am going to give a sample of what it was like talking to Bart.  I am going to quote him exactly.  If you are deeply offended by racist epithets, SKIP THIS SECTION.  You are warned, so no bitchin’.  Bart had conversations with us like this (note: his voice got higher and he started squeaking more as this went on):

Bart:  Make shit-tons of money, niggaaaaa!

Me:  I just wanna be a veterinarian.

Bart:  Fuck that shit, nigga!  We gonna get RARIS, niggaaaa!  Raris and bitches!  All the best drugs, nigga!  You WANT that shit?

Me:  Uh, I’ll be happy being a veterinarian.

Bart:  Will, what about you?

Will:  Nah, I’m good, I don’t need the money.

Bart:  You’ll get the RARIS and the whores, nigga!

Will:   I don’t need a Ferrari, my Ford works fine.

Bart:  Fuck that shit, nigga!   I wanted a Lamborghini, so I just threw down the money, cash, and it was in my driveway that day, niggaaaaa!

            The more this went on, the more Bart smoked and drank.  The more he smoked and drank, the higher his voice got, the more racist epithets he spouted, and the more his suddenly DEEP Tennessee accent came out. 

Bart:  Hey Will, you want a hit of this?

Will:  Nah, I don’t smoke.

Bart:  What the fuck, why not?

Will:  Well, the military asks if you’ve ever done recreational drugs over the age of 18 when you apply for OCS, and I don’t lie under oath. 

Bart:  So just lie, nigga!  Fuck America!

Me:  Uh, lying under oath isn’t cool.

Bart:  Fuck that shit, you can just join the regular army.

Will:  But then I earn like $20,000 less a year.

Bart:  I wanna take twenty grand, wipe my nuts with it, and *squeak* LIGHT THAT SHIT ON FIRE.

Will:  ……..Cool.

            I had a lot of trouble understanding Bart’s business scheme.  I now understand it, so I’ll explain.  You may find this boring, but talking about it took up most of our evening.  You’ll live. 

            Just to illustrate the point, I’m going to use easy, arbitrary numbers.  John Doe buys $10,000 worth of shit with his Visa card.  He is making minimum payments.  Bart calls him up and says, “Look, you’re paying minimums right now, right?  You’re never going to get out of debt that way.  For $1,000, I can make it so you only pay $5,000.  You can pay $5,000, right?  Good.  Now change your phone number.” 

            Bart then calls up Visa and says, “Okay, you’re never going to get in touch with him.  If you want any of your money, just accept $5,000.  You’ll get it.”  Now, credit card companies make a SHIT-TON of money.  Built into their business plan is expected loss from people who don’t pay.  However, they make so much money that they don’t care.  If they can get $5,000 soon, they’d rather have that.  It minimizes their losses.

            China then buys the debt from the credit card companies at like $0.40 to the dollar.  Visa would rather have a lump sum immediately than small payments, and it also guarantees that their loss gets minimized.  China takes a risk, but it’s a low risk.  For a possible $5,000, they’re only investing $2,000.  Good deal for China.  Visa has minimized its losses, John has halved his debt, and Bart has made $1,000.

            Now, you may be asking, what happened to the $5,000 that Visa said “Whatever” to?  It’s gone.  Poof!  Vanished!  There are 5,000 fewer U.S. dollars in the world.  Thus, the value of the dollar increases slightly.  So who gets fucked?  Pretty much everyone who has non-U.S. currency.  For China, John, Visa, and Bart to make some money, every person on Earth who has non-U.S. currency sacrifices a small fraction of a penny.  This loss is too small to be noticed, but the cumulative effect is that Bart, Visa, and China make millions, and John gets $5,000 of free shit. 

            When Bart left, we asked Elli if he was serious.  Apparently, he’s living at the nicest hotel in Amsterdam, and he just comes in every day to drink and smoke all day.  He also throws money around like crazy.  He was real, and he wanted Will and me to join in his multi-million dollar scheme.  Will and I weren’t interested.  I want to play with puppies and I guess he’d rather just blow shit up.

Will’s Corner

            You can’t really get by in the world without at least some use of money, but I don’t expect that I’ll ever need or even really particularly want to be a multi-millionare. I like to keep things simple and money just complicates shit.

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Dear Joe,

            Keep up the good work.  Just remember, we’re always watching.  Always.

Love,

Will and Andy