2 years ago
Sunday, June 6, 2010
This day began with me getting ready early, and nearly strangling Matthias for not getting ready as early. But after my distress was made known, things started looking up.
We borrowed a bike from a dorm-mate of Matthias' and headed out for a city tour. The nine streets are a collection of independent boutiques just southwest of central Amsterdam and as per my request we toured them thoroughly. Matthias even got more hardcore about the vintage shop than I did. After perusing the goodies and sifting through the velvet bow tie box, I was ready to go and scanned for the man. He, however, had usurped the full length mirror and was deep into the vest section with his potentially dapper pieces and hangers scattered about. After convincing him NOT to buy a jewel-toned nineties print abomination, we hit up a houseboat museum (and sat on the bench atop it until they kicked us off of the canal), checked out the museum square for possible live entertainment (it was freedom from the nazis day) and biked back to the pad, again with a severe case of hunger.
At the corner stoplight before Matthias' flat, we discussed the idea of pizza, although both of us were at a loss for where to get this cheaply and deliciously. Staring deep into each other's eyes to determine level of pizza want, we overheard someone say the magic word as they biked on by. Matthias turned his bike in pursuit and began pedaling, I saw the commitment of his move and knew immediately what to do; follow in silence. He was onto something. Several awkward stops and moments of trying to look inconspicuous later, we arrived at the world's smallest most delicious smelling eat-in pizza restaurant just ahead of the six students we'd been trailing. PERFECT.
The beverage menu listed "Beer: 1,50" so we ordered. "Two 'Beers'" please. And the woman knelt down beside our table and extracted two Heinekens from the fridge adjacent, popping the tops. Nice. The pizza also turned out to be cheap and ultra delicious. Matthias was so excited that he invented a new term. "What are you doing?" I asked as he yanked the collar of his t-shirt down nearly to the middle of his chest, scratching. "What? Oh, I am just scratching my breast crotch." He stated and continued looking around, amazed with his find as I lost all muscle tone in raucous laughter.
photo by Matthias