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being normal, what?

As I prowl though my guidebook to see what will happen to me in Amsterdam, I am reading this:" Act normal, that's crazy enough."

*is completely charmed*

Apparently the wooden gears inside the windmill engineering are awesome. Also the dike system where once upon a time this tyke put his / her finger into the dyke [er, DIKE] to save the country from drownding.

The book raves about Dutch tolerance but I'm not so sure.

Certain people have to go around with bodyguards since (1) they are prominent (2) they push messages that inflame Muslims, like parity for women, women's rights, terrifyingly radical propositions like that (3) they get killed.

Like Theo Van Gogh, the former filmmaker. I think his female assistant is still in hiding or has emigrated.

Well, ya know, killings happen in Boston and New York, too. From terrorist action, too. In New York, 9/11; here, it was police terrorism when they fired a rubber bullet through the eye of a young girl, student, celebrating the Red Sox winning the World Series for the first time in 89 years. She died, of course [brain haemorrhage]. This all happens, of course, far from tourist pathways.


The last thing I wanna do is be a tourist.

The next-to-last thing I wanna do is be a corpse.

Then again, sometimes passion for adventure trumps choice of what happens, no?

Anyway the dike story captivates me. Just like Hans Brinker. My skating career ended the third time I fell on my bony tyke ass and it hurt tooooooooo much. He did better than I.

And I *do* lurve me my other Anna -- Anna Frank. Go google Hannah Taylor Gordon + Sir Ben Kingsley and watch the movie and you'll see what I mean ;) That is a great introduction, if you need one. Inside the theatre and out.

Our Anna visited in Amsterdam, too, had electric experiences in someplace called Warmoesstraat, involving a bet with Euros, but I don't wanna say any more about that since one of her companions is here reading and she will get it right and I won't ;)

Anyway ... uhm ... there don't seem to be any lack of places for me to sleep.

And when I get exhausted there's always Utrecht lol

And when I wanna get to a peaceful, contented place after Holland, why then, off I go to Jerusalem or somewhere near that. Maybe I'll hole up in the American Embassy. Or turn myself into Spidey, so I can have an even chance of reaching Cambodia later on. Cambodia being another peaceful spot.

At least there in the Holy Land, there's no pretense of any tolerance at all. My impression is that when Jews are not fighting one another or their own government, they're defending against the Palestinians and the rest of the circle of Arab countries who are on their own holy mission to annihilate them.

Good thing my major is military history, eh?


( 7 comments — Leave a comment )
(Deleted comment)
Jul. 24th, 2008 02:22 am (UTC)
w00t. Nope, that's the Anglicized version used mostly all over the place. She was christened Anneliese Marie but Miep Gies, the Gies & Co. office secretary who was directly responsible for recovering and hiding her Diary after the Gestapo raid, always calls her "Anna" in her interviews and writings.

In much German and Dutch usage, final -e at the end of words is a phonetic -a.

It's more fluent as pronounced ah-nah frahnk, too. Think that's how Amsterdammers do it, and so that's what I'm going to find at the Anne Frank Huis, when I get there, I bet.

Anyway: one girl's A is another one's E ;)
Jul. 25th, 2008 02:28 am (UTC)
Oooh, I've been there. Can't remember if they used an A or E though. o_O I think it may have been an E.

Btw, don't stay in Hotel Max. It's a rip-off place they send tourists to when they ask for a hotel at an info booth. They even proclaim "Hotel Max" at one of the bus stops. It's waaaay expensive for the crappy, moldy gross room you get. -_-'
Jul. 25th, 2008 02:48 am (UTC)
How cool, KA, did you have fun?

*consults guidebook*

Can't find Hotel Max atm but there is a Hotel Hemp [you gotta bring your own pot, apparently, which is no prob in that country] and also an Xaviera Hollander Bed and Breakfast, where XH is this Lady who wrote her bombshell book in the USA called "The Happy Hooker" before she ...erm...emigrated to "the same culture who gave us Calvinism."

Actually my fave so far is something called "Flying Pig Downtown Hostel" cuz (1) Kiota once wrote a poem about Flying Pigs (2) the book encourages me to "hang out with hundreds of young, dope-smoking backpackers at this very-relaxed, very central 30-room hostel" where there are 30 rooms but over 100 beds. There's also a "chilled-out, cushioned-lined basement called 'The Happy Room.'"

I dunno about this 30-room / 100-bed ratio ---- but apparently I will be studying innovative Dutch architecture and might be starting a new career in organic plant management?
Jul. 25th, 2008 03:01 am (UTC)
Yeah, I guess I had fun. I was with my father, though, so I was bickering with him quite a bit.

I'm trying to imagine you in this hostel. It's a very interesting picture, I must say. I'm not a fan of hostels. I need a nice clean shower. But hey, try it out, maybe you'll enjoy it.
Jul. 25th, 2008 03:13 am (UTC)
You won't have to imagine because I will send you a picture or fifty.

The low Euro cost attracts me but the common shower doesn't, particularly. But in Europe there are somewhat different plumbing ideas than we have in America. So when in Rome / Amsterdam, do as the natives do? [If I meet any: the place is chock full of tourists, it seems ...]
Jul. 24th, 2008 03:39 pm (UTC)
I'm worried for you. I know you'll be fine with your wits, but I can't help it!

Jul. 25th, 2008 02:07 am (UTC)
Oooooh. Alicia, that's very sweet of you.. *sends big long huggles*

I think bad things can happen to you anywhere. Good things can too. It's all this "Though I walk through the Shadow of the Valley of Death" parable.

I focus on putting out good, positive vibes because that feels better to me, and that's who I am. They almost always reflect back to me, in some form. When they don't, it's a learning experience I can't get any other way!!
( 7 comments — Leave a comment )


kiota too late for the stars
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