Best pickup line ever?

So this morning I get up and go get breakfast, which is included at this hostel, and the guy remembers who I am, which is either 1) creepy, 2) nice, or 3) suggests a slow night. I’m sort of leaning towards 1) and 3). I’m chomping away on something covered in nutella when who do I see but Yuta, a guy from my French class at AUP. Never have I once run into a classmate in Paris, so it figures that I would run into one 6 hours away in Amsterdam. Probably because we are never all in Paris when the rest of Europe is a train ride or 29€ flight away.

Rather than wander around by myself, I tag along with him and his friends, and we go to the Van Gogh museum, where I learn how dark and twisty Van Gogh is and that he went through a Japanese phase. Neat. Then we got hungry, and Yuta’s friends knew about some legendary Dutch pancake place, and it was very good. It sort of reminds me of ‘smac, in the sense that they take a traditional concept and fuse it with other styles to make it better. I got the Indian pancake, which looked like this:

And the table had molasses that looked like this:

After lunch, we went to the Anne Frank House, which is as chilling and depressing with a touch of hope as when Frankenstein gives the little girl a flower and then drowns her. (I have not read Frankenstein. But I am reading David Sedaris.)

Tip: Anne Frank’s House does not look like you would expect it to on the outside. If you think you are there according to your map, but you are confused because there isn’t a crappy old house, don’t worry, you’re there. Unless you can’t read maps. In which case, we can’t be friends.

After that, I split off on my own, and went to a diamond… refinery? The place where they chisel them and give them facets and stuff. There were lots of Chinese tourists there. (It’s because we are drawn to shiny things that indicate possession of wealth.) I saw both very tiny and very large diamonds, and they were equally amusing.

Then I wanted to walk around the red light district, but at first I couldn’t find it. I was clearly walking in the area indicated on the map, but I was thinking, “Where are the – oh.” And there they were. The euphemisms in Amsterdam are excellent. For example:

Yeah, I bet. They also say “smartshop” instead of “buy weed here.”

Anyway, I went to get dinner at Satellite Sports Café, where I got those little pierogies which I already forget the actual name of, but are traditional Dutch things to eat. While there, they played Thriller and Ghostbusters. It was odd.

I went back to the hostel, where I met Jonathan, a random American college student. He was going to meet with his friend, and I decided to go along, so I rode on the back of his rented bicycle to his friend’s hostel. I hadn’t done this in a long time, and I’ve never done it when the biker isn’t Chinese, so I was a little anxious, but it was fine. When we were walking around, a couple of guys about 10 feet away got into fisticuffs, and suddenly every single freaking police car in Amsterdam showed up and they rather roughly shoved us all out of the way, as if their violent pushing was less dangerous than an accidental swing from one of the drunk guys. I was not pleased. However, I was also amused. Because clearly, the police here have nothing else to do.

Then we went to “wonder bar” where we smoked hookah (because obviously, getting high with strange men is probably not the best idea). At this bar, Jonathan and his friend, whose name I forget, but let’s say Mark, were telling me about the school they go to. It’s out in one of the flyover states on the west side of the country, and they learn about chakra and things. They “taught” me how to take my pulse and “measure” my chakra or something. You have to use three fingers, and then the sensation that goes through each finger is different. So yeah. I’m never going to go to that school.

Then later in the evening, Mark, who is 31, turns to me and goes, “So when are we gonna make out?” In my head, I’m thinking, “BAHAHAHAHAHA. Seriously? That’s your line? Are you kidding?” but I manage to say, “Uh, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” Then, his response is even better. “Just kidding. But not really.” I mean wow, what a follow-up. Like a moth to a flame, baby.

Two final things:

Hand chair! (Watch Arrested Development.)

Street urinal!