At this moment, I am zooming through Belgium on my way to Amsterdam for the weekend. I have been in Paris for over two weeks and have two weeks of French classes under my belt. Ask me how my French is. Je suis désolé. Mon française n’est pas bon. At least I can say that. And I say it often.

Paris is busy and gearing up for the Olympics. I’ll pick this thought up later.

We were zooming along, then stopped for a while, then went slowly for a little while and another stop. Then start. Then, we were deposited in Rotterdam to make our way to another train that would deposit us in Amsterdam. Late, but all in one piece. I hope.

Amsterdam. Well, it’s been a night. Pour a drink, because I’m going to unload. A friend of mine in Palm Springs had recommended a particular brand of ‘Shroom (I think that’s what the kids call them).

Anyway, I bought what I was told and took what I was advised would be good. Well, I took less, because, well, I’m kind of a Mr. Wilson. We will get more into the Mr. Magoo aspect of the evening later. So, I’m a good boy and did as I was told. I waited round for a while. I felt kind of like I had just eaten potting soil. Waited. Nothing. A little nausea. Meh.

So I go on the wine and cheese canal cruise that I booked ahead of time. Mr. Wilson. I, of course, make friends with the two nice old ladies from Australia. I’m feeling in my element. A nice old lady who wants to chat about her trip so far and how she is going back to Scotland to visit family. We really had a great conversation about geneology and shared stories of our family journey from Scotland to Australia and the US. I think I may have to take that cruise again, because I think I spent all the time chatting with this lady. I don’t think we ever exchanged names. Weird. Very Merchant/Ivory.

Anyway, on with the evening. We drank and exchanged stories. And I watched. I really do wonder what people think when I sit and just watch. Across from me on the boat were four twenty something’s from the best schools. I don’t mean that as a put-down, just a description. Very “Clueless”. Three girls and the boy. The girls were getting all the great light for pics, and at one point, I catch the eye of the guy who has been asked to slide down the bench, so to be out of the picture, and I laugh. He says, “They won’t let me in the picture because I don’t wear a shirt like yours.” Not mean, just, that’s the reason. I said, “Oh, don’t worry. They’d photoshop you out anyway.” I thought that was too mean, so I just added “You be you”. What a dork.

I say my good nights, tip the crew and wend my way back to the hotel. The hotel is right in the middle of everything. Well, I don’t know where everything is, but it’s like living in Times Square. Oh, and on the cruise, the swimming and just having a grand old time all over the city. I do highly recommend the canal cruise. I really need to speed things up here, you might notice, I am meandering. I’ll stop. Although, the evening did have a lot of meandering.

So, I get back to the hotel room. I feel exhausted, but really shouldn’t. The cruise was a short walk from the hotel. I lay down and close my eyes. And in about a second the entire evening, start to finish, came rushing back in an extraordinary blur. The city was so dazzling in that flash, that I had to go out. So I wandered. The streets and alleys and canals of Amsterdam (I think I walked past the Anne Frank house. I’ll have to go back). I was heading back to the hotel, very sweaty, but happy, and I thought, why not stop at one of the Coffeehouses and get high. That’s a great idea, said I. In the end, it was.

So, there was a place I had seen that looked, mellow, not on a main drag. Out of the way. I was thinking as I was wandering how much Amsterdam reminds me of the East Village in the early days. I don’t mean this in a bad way, but I never felt like I belonged in the East Village. I feel like an alien here and of course I’m wondering what the hell are they seeing.

I get to the place I saw, I go in, and am greeted at the counter by a lovely woman. “May I help you?” She, says. I say, “Yes” and that would have been fine, but I continued to explain that I wasn’t sure how things worked here. “You can buy something and smoke it here.” she said. I said “Great, and added we just take it home in California.” Thinking I need to let her know that I’m not a novice. And I’m not, I’m just an idiot.

We decided an a hybrid pre-roll and a coke. I looked thirsty. She said it put your head in a nice place. I might have made that up. She did say something about how it was pretty balanced. She offered me a lighter. I light up the pre-roll, and it becomes pretty clear to me, that I am sweating profusely. I think I may have walked a little too briskly. The two lovely ladies who run the place are being very nice. I’m sitting, well maybe not hunched, but lurking in the corner watching the world going. Sweating.

I’m smoking and thinking more and more, what the hell do they think of me? Who is this weird old sweaty guy who wandered into our shop on a Friday night. That’s not what they were thinking. She mentioned what a nice slow mellow night it has been, and I thought. They don’t think I’m a mess. Let me quit while I’m ahead. I’ll leave. What to do with the joint. Leave it, like you would a drink you don’t finish? So, I asked. Well, apparently not. Next time I’ll have to bring another to go container. I then proceeded to put the tip I wanted to leave in a Kleenex box. Then, attempted two other containers, that were not for tips. Candies and an empty mug. Mr. Magoo.

I made it home in one piece. Did I say I was staying in Times Square? I laid down, my mind went all over the place and I thought, let me write some of it down. It was a lot, and if you stuck it out this far, bravo. At the end of the adventure tonight, from my balcony, this photo.