Too much
There is so much to think about I find myself unable to say anything of interest. There's really nothing new to say about European visits by Americans, I'm sure.
But...as you can see from all the half-baked garbage I was willing to send up to my blog in my absence I will thrust some bla bla into the dark and vast ether simply because??? Well, who knows why. Somehow I couldn't stomach the thought of an empty blog. It's those dates on the top, you see. That's why I used that 'future posting mode' even though I had so little to say.
American in Amsterdam. That's what I am. Oh, yeah.
And here I sit sighing and wishing I lived in a small country of friendly souls who don't shoot each other on a regular basis. It's inevitable, I suppose. You go to Holland and you feel that deep sorrow of those forced to live in a large nation of the very, very cranky. The seething resentment and chaos that characterizes my homeland. Where I shall return very shortly. It happened when I was sitting on the tram...Yes, the convenient and ample public transportation that prevents the smog and traffic horrors. That alone might be enough but sitting ahead of me was a slightly plump and rosy Dutch woman of about 50 who saw a slightly older woman get on and immediately leapt to her feet to ensure that this woman would have a seat. Like all good American urban dwellers I was doing my best to avoid all eye contact because I forgot that most of these people are not armed. The older woman refused the seat but the kindly Dutch woman continued to smile at all and sundry in her gentle way.
And this is when I projected upon the unsuspecting Dutch my hopeless desires for community, harmony and tolerance. I imbued them with virtues they no doubt imperfectly have if they have at all--pretending that I have discovered a society of perfect cooperation and concern for the welfare of one's fellow man.
Yes, they are known to be quite opinionated and blunt, etc. They had their empire, etc.
Blabbity bla bla bla. It is only through travel that I come to terms with my utter dissatisfaction with the city planning and ethos of my homeland. Love it as much as I do.
And this nauseates me as the thought of being a 'Europe-lover' is just so...well, icky and snooty. I want to be proud of the irritable people from whom I stem, those bitter and money-driven folk.
In any case, we survived
Yes, the Abejas were the loudest people on any train. We could be heard for miles. Papa Abeja got into a few alteracations here and there. He policed the lines into museums, turning away those so bold as to line jump.
As usual, he was very funny...he criticized the street artists work to their faces and said 'black cabbage soup! Eeeewww!' when we were offered this at the local trattoria. I tried to console the artist by explaining that papa A or 'el meromero' as he is also known had offered some suggestions for redesigning the Duomo in Florence also. I mean, he's right...it IS too busy.
Ya see? I can't think of anything good to say but it might be the horrible pop music playing in the background at this internet place.
It might be a good thing for my career and life in general if this blog takes a nosedive.
Sorry...the pot and sex will have to wait. I'm in Amsterdam but I'm feeling a bit shy to go into that now. That is the icky part and you see I'm so sold on the Dutch way of life. The problem is not the activity, the legality of it or the nice locals but the smelly hippies that are drawn to here like flies. I'm a little worried as el chico is reading about the escorts and prostitutes here on the computer next to me and I may have to sign off now to prevent anything unfortunate from occurring.
