She farted. I’m sitting in the Fyra train from Amsterdam to Antwerp and all I can think is: she farted, that old bitch next to me. “Someone farted”, I tell my wife who’s sitting right in front of me. She doesn’t smell it. In the corner of my eye I can see the farting lady trying to ignore my remark. “I think it was her”, I say to my wife, “The woman next to me.” She gasped. The woman next to me, I mean. But no apology. No comment. Nothing.
Howdy, ladies and gentlemen, dear fans of the.ego.tripper. How are you this evening? Did you enjoy my little train situation? I didn’t. But I let it go. I decided not to be bothered by farts (someone else’s of course, mine are just fine), bad breath, ignorance, idiocy, … anymore. I’ve grown some ‘patience’. In about 24 hours. Thanks to Amsterdam!
Anyway, the reason I went to Amsterdam yesterday morning, at fucking 6 am, was to get away from Antwerp for a few days. Don’t get me wrong, I love Antwerp, but sometimes one needs a break, doesn’t one? Besides, it was the perfect excuse to be followed by the crew of the tv show I’m doing for the Belgian channel five (Vijf). Sure, I’ve been to Amsterdam plenty of times. Almost all of them rainy weekends. But I got lucky yesterday: no rain. At least not a lot of it.
So the idea was to do the clichés of Amsterdam. Cause I’m a cliché kinda guy, you know. Nothing gives me more pleasure than hopping on and off a hop on bus in a strange city. Just to describe my level of clichéness. I’m the one who goes to London and buys an umbrella with the Union Jack when it starts raining. I’m the one who goes to Amsterdam and buys an umbrella with marihuana leaves printed on the outside. I’m the one who makes ‘pushing’ pictures of my wife when we’re in Pisa or who is ‘creative’ with pinching fingers and an Eifel Tower.
So, Amsterdam, clichés. Brilliant. Only one issue: you can’t really go around filming in the Red Light District, can you? No you can’t, cause the prostitutes will get angry. And if there’s one thing you’ll never want to see… Trust me. Also: you can’t really go filming in a coffee shop, can you? No, cause I don’t smoke marihuana and I don’t want to – as an experiment – try a big chunk of space cake, if you know what I mean. It’s already easy enough to make a fool out of myself, without being shitfaced or stoned. So what clichés did you do in Amsterdam then? Good question, ladies and gents. Good question. How bout cycling? Yes, we cycled and cycled and cycled, we almost fought other cyclist who were annoyed by our cycling skills. And we went on a boat tour and toured the magnificent canals at night. We also went to the Waterloo square for some second hand shopping. It was mainly garbage. We ate pea soup and took some croquets (is this really a word?) from the wall (I’m quite aware this is a strange sentence, but the fact is that in Amsterdam you can just buy food displayed in tiny glass containers that are mounted on a wall).
To get even more cliché: I bought cheese. And we went shopping in the ‘Negen Straatjes’, which is some sort of an ‘alternative’ shopping district. This is where the cool people get their sneakers. And their lomography shizzle. To make an end to all of this, we went to a bar, a bar with one hundred dutch beers on tap. I commented: this must be my lucky day. I hope the irony isn’t lost on the viewers of the tv show. This is where I drank a ‘Hatseflats’, which I kinda immediately regretted. But since I’m a lover of clichés: the experience is more important than … whether or not you get diarrhea of the mouth or ass. If you do get the latter: please don’t fart on a train. It’s annoying for other travelers and dangerous for the dryness of your pants.
After having had a few delicious drinks in café ‘Het Arendsnest’, the crew (the cameraman, the director and the sound guy, who were pretty cool, I must admit) went back to the central station and got on their train, hopefully for them: fart free. The wife and I decided we could use some more clichés. So we stayed. We spent the night in Amsterdam. And we did manage to go into a coffee shop and into the Red Light District. Score!
Oh, one more thing. We also went to ‘Pied à Terre’, the travel book store. Well, not just any travel book store. This is one of the biggest travel book stores in Europe. And for a traveler like me, who loves globes, travel posters, Lonely Planet’s and other guides and all other travel knickknacks, this book store was the highlight of my day. And it wasn’t even that cliché, was it?
Oh, still one more thing. On one of my pictures you’ll spot the infamous Bananenbar. I didn’t go in this time. I did it a couple of years back, with eight of my friends, and that was quite enough bananas for me. In fact, after that experience I’ve never really enjoyed bananas anymore. Those ladies spoilt bananas for me. You can’t believe what those girls (in fact, mostly women over 40) do to those poor pieces of fruit. I’d like to tell you, but I think it’s better I don’t.
Anyway, peepz, hope you enjoyed this 24 hours in Amsterdam post and hope you will follow me on television in March. Don’t be scared: I stayed decent. Only one time I mentioned diarrhea, whores and heroin. Child proof, in other words.
Oh, last thing: I fucking forgot to take my Canon EOS M to Amsterdam. I hate myself for it. These cell phone pictures will have to do for now.