The diary of bootsi frank.. Hello Holland..

Madness; a parking place for bikes?
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So its time to chat about being Amster-damned!

Ooh doesnt that just give the wrong impression of what I thought about this remarkable city, and the rollicking great time that we had? But at the end of our four-day expedition on top of the two and a half weeks in Ireland, I was well and truly a certified train wreck.

Departing Dublin on the seedy side, after a rather blurry weekend of day and night celebrations RE; our new silverware, we ventured off from the dreary sideways rain to the most spectacular blue skies Ive seen for a very very long time

Plane hair, a hint of liver failure, and a slight look of discolouration in our faces, (suggesting signs of jaundice) we woke up in The Netherlands. Hello Volkswagen I thought. (The extent of my Dutch vocabulary, only later to be informed by Sally VW is actually German. Oh well.. Hello Heineken)

Somehow the lack of sleep felt worse than any recent hangover. But we soldiered on, we were here for 4 days, and time was of the essence. So finally, after hauling an excessive amount of luggage 500 miles through central Amsterdam, and Leash successfully knocking over a thousand bicycles, domino style, we arrived at our apartment (no hostels for these avaricious travellers) where we settled in for a supposed quiet night. However, with our new found alcohol tolerance we decided to start the week off with a few, and or a few too many drinks around the dinner table, laughing, skulling, cheering, appreciating the amazing company we were in and generally reminiscing about the good times in Ireland.

Basically passing out from exhaustion and possibly a few too many drinks (for those who were unfortunate enough to a) be a victim of the infamous drinking game ring of fire and b) having to drink some random beer from Bolvaria). We woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed ready to explore the illustrious sights of this incredible city.

To be blatantly honest here, I have quite a vague recollection of the weeks events and cant recall everything that happened and or the order in which it happened, so I will just talk about the few things I actually remembered.

Day what ever, we cruised around most of the city, deciding to visit the infamous house of Anne Frank. Initially lost after Motto was certain, according to her map, we were in the right area, Cowi, our nominated spokes person, asked the closets stereotypical looking local politely Anne Frank house? Only to receive a somewhat blank facial expression in reply, she asked again, this time in her best Dutch accent (which actually is just English at an extremely slow pace) Anne Franks house'? After finally realising we werent actually taking the mick he burst into laughter and pointed to a door that literally was 3 meters away.

After speed-reading (Kath and Kim style) The Diary of Anne Frank in Ireland, preparing myself historically for Amsterdam I was dumbfounded learning of the stories, watching the documentaries and literally walking through the house. It was a very sad and sobering reminder of the atrocities reaped in these beautiful cities. It was sadder still, when I was able to link the Anne Frank house with the experience of Anne dying in Auschwitz-Birkenau. It is almost inconceivable that they were able to survive for so long in such a confined situation, and that Anne was so incredibly astute for her tender age.

Anyway, enough of that, leaving Frankies house we decided we were over walking and caught, well didnt actually catch but travelled via horse and cart (Arthur Tindall style) from one side of the city to the much anticipated Heineken Experience

I was a little sceptical of the place to be honest. Having been to the Guinness Factory and absolutely hating Guinness, comparing the taste to gravel, in a liquid form, I had become a little bored with these places. How wrong was I? The Heineken Factory was awesome, and totally set-up for the consumer experience with 3 half pints included (or more after the bar staff found out we were 6 young Australians he was loving us sick) in what was to be the start of much Heineken that weekend.

Stumbling out into the beautiful sunshine with no food, no quality sleep, loving ourself sick with our token Heineken glass and 300 half pints under our belts, we headed home via the scenic route, which is anywhere really. For a very serene hour, appreciating the gorgeous quaint canals that makes this city, and successfully avoiding any bicycle casualties we arrived home to what was soon becoming a regular nightly activity (as discussed earlier)

Note. I dont actually drink Heineken and or any beer, but figured it couldnt be any worse than Guinness so I held my nose and successfully drank a couple of pints, pretty sure the girls drank my half anyway)

Here I digress for a moment to talk about bicycles in Amsterdam. This is a city where bicycles rule. Pedestrians and cars alike beware. It is hilarious. There are bikes everywhere and hardly any cars. People in 3-piece suits, families, young girls and old men, everyone rides. Oh and bicycle rage is heard everywhere with the very insistent peel of bells telling people to get out of their way! Bling Bling.

Morning came, and so too the thought of Do I really have to get up? After realising I had successfully blocked all sinuses in my sleep I managed to drag myself out bed, showered and off to do some more exploring.

A late lunch and some of us opted to appreciate time to rest while others decided to check out the fabled coffee shops of Amsterdam. Although knowing I was missing out on a fundamental part of Amsterdams culture, my sinuses were at an all time high thus I decided to opt against it. After hearing very vague yet positive reportsRE the food, I found myself pondering, what was so comical and why did Relbynow feel the need to sleep for two days straight.

The last night soon presented itself and we were off partying, dancing and having fun. Everyone but Relby (who was now well into day one of her sleepathon) and I who still hadnt managed to ditch the sinusitis. Deciding I didnt want to miss anything I volunteered my camera thinking I will at least get some decent photos of the nightlife. And indeed I did. The look on the young lad working in the Kodak shop when I had the photos developed says it all. Thanks girls.

Thursday was a travel day for the rest of the group where they headed onto Spain. Been there, done that got the shirt, so I decided to head back to England. Waking up on time, packing our gear and fishing out our passports (literally for some)all ready to depart my new found favourite city.

Note. Naivety does pay off. After we arrived in Amsterdam, constable Cowi decided it would be a safe idea, suggesting to everyone we hide our passports. Not taking any notice of adopt a cop over there I left mine blatantly visible to anyone and everyone on the dining table, justifying to myself that Id have more chance actually hiding it and forgetting where it was than having it stolen. Sally and Motto both agreed with Cowis idea and decided to put it in the safest place, in what she thought was an artificial plant in the lounge.

Out of site out of mind, literally until a rather shocking yet comical discovery the evening before we were due to leave..

The plant was actually real, and had some remarkable self watering capability.

In a moment of pure chaotic proceedings Cowi rescued all three passports from the drowning seas at the bottom of the plant. Needless to say her passport remained 100% in tact. In a desperate attempt to revive the faint image apparently of one Sally Anne Cooper and one Mary Mottrom, they both spent the next few hours aimlessly trying to dry out each page with a high-powered hair dryer.

Sally Cooper, alas Scheppelle Corby and Mary Mottrom alas Mercedes Corby did manage to leave The Netherlandss successfully the following day after a powerfully persuasive speech at customs.

Waving goodbye to the girls, praying to god I wasnt going to be abandoned here because of an excessive amount of fog that morning I prepared myself for departure, and by the time I managed to arrive back to the bleary eyed London, I had that sinking feeling that urgh, you know when something amazing is coming to a close....you can feel the anticlimactic buzz in the air....

Goodbye Amsterdam

Hello frost bite.