Amsterdam, Netherlands

Next week Friday, Günter and I will fly to Madrid, Spain, where we will spend a long weekend celebrating the fact that we met each other fifteen years ago. It was in a small gay bar call Gaiety, near Munt, where I met him all those years ago, and despite the fact that the bar not long after, our friendship continued. A couple of months after we met each other, Günter became my first flat mate on Amstelkade when he moved into the spare bedroom. Not too long after that, at the end of July 1997, we went on holiday together – a week in Sitges, Tossa de Mar and Barcelona – all in north east Spain. Three rolls of film (slides) were shot during that holiday, the old-fashioned way with analogue cameras.

Tonight, all these years later, Günter came over to my place (no longer Amstelkade of course) for our usual pizza-wine-chatting evening, when we got to talk about that holiday in 1997, which was also the first time I had flown again since 1979 (I know, I have caught up in the meantime.) “I still must have those slides somewhere,” I said to Günter as I opened the big red box that also server as my dining room table. It is filled to capacity with slides and photographs, so finding those particular slides would be quite a challenge… but sometimes you just need to be lucky. The very first set of slides in the first, randomly picked box, that I picked turned out the be the one from our Spain holiday. Next step was the slide projector… Now, I knew that I had moved it with me to Oude Hoogstraat, but where was it? It turned out to be in the storage room down the hallway. I unpacked it and gingerly I plugged it into the electricity socket, half expecting it to go ‘boooof!’ before dying altogether. Nothing happened. Light switch on… and there was the light! It was still working! I took a clock and the map of Scotland from the wall and moved the TV out of the way, and before we knew it, there were our memories of Spain 1997, projected on my white living room wall! It was great to see those pictures again! We had a great time reliving memories. The slide in the above picture shows Günter overlooking Sitges bay. Ah… to be young again…

Amsterdam, Netherlands

When I mentioned to Andy and Colin on Friday that, temporarily, times had been… ehm… financially challenged, Colin jokingly said “Oh well, you could always start working full time.” He didn’t know it, but he was completely right. As per 1 March, i.e. Wednesday, I will start working full time, and the only reason for that is indeed a financial one. That means that this week is the last week that I will work four days per week, and yesterday was my last part time day ever. Well… not really ever. As soon as the strain on my bank account relaxes a bit I will switch back to either 80% or 90% part time. If I win the lottery tomorrow I might reduce that part time percentage even further to 0.

So, back to the office it was, today, as if the past two weeks – full of travel – never really happened. As far as trips go, I still have two trips booked for the next month or so. Next week I will go to Madrid for a long weekend with Günter, and three weeks later I have a trip to London booked… but I might not do that latter one, again for financial reasons. After work, I took the above picture of Oudezijds Voorburgwal, where I usually park my bikes, and then I went home to welcome a new couchsurfer who will be staying here for three days. Cristián from Chile (currently residing in Geneva, Switzerland) turned out to be a very nice guy when he arrived at my place at around 8pm and we chatted the rest of the evening about all kinds of stuff.

Glasgow, Scotland

My last day in Scotland once more, but with my flight only scheduled to leave in the early evening, that meant that there was enough time to spend in the city itself! Lynne took a train to Aberdeen from Queen Street Station in the early afternoon but before that we had already visited the University Chapel where there was a gallery with art work depicting the Twelve Stations of the Cross – Jesus’s last walk to the hill where he was crucified. Some of the paintings (it was mostly paintings on show) where truly impressive, including two by painter Peter Howson. The biggest one (click here) was not for sale but most of the other art work was… but unfortunately in price ranges that are presently a bit too ambitious for my finances. Nevertheless, it was a wonderful exhibition, and I was very glad we went – also because the chapel is really very beautiful.

Lunch was in the church cafe opposite the University, in the basement of a magnificent Alexander Thomson building. The lunch was fine – nothing wrong with it at all – but it was the staff that was rather… ehm… interesting. The (very) elderly lady serving the soup had a beard that would have taken me quite some time to grow, and the lady with the trolley tried to push her way through the restaurant, not minding to much if she had to push chairs (with people on them), bags or coats out of the way. It was a very funny experience! We walked back to Andy and Colin’s apartment via Byres Rd (popping into the Oxfam bookshop and into FOPP, the music store) and from there Andy drove us to Queen Street station where we said goodbye to Lynne. I had also put my bag in the car and from Queen Street we drove towards the airport, stopping at Braehead shopping centre for an amble through the centre, a coffee at Costa and a stroll along the river Clyde. Then, it was really time to head to the airport… and that’s where we said our goodbyes again.

The flight home was uneventful, although it was nice to see Glasgow Airport’s duty free area again. The airport has changed quite a bit since I last used it, not in the least place because it suffered a terrorist attack some years ago when someone drove his car into the terminal building. Back home there was nothing much more to do than unpack… and relax. It was a wonderful weekend to Glasgow once more and I can’t wait till I see my friends again.

Glasgow, Scotland

If, like me, you love films with actresses Dame Maggie Smith or Dame Judi Dench, or if you’re quite impressed with Tom Wilkinson’s acting, or if you can’t help looking at Celia Imrie and seeing Miss Babs (and smiling to yourself) then there is one film you definitely need to go and see. The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel – it is absolutely wonderful!

We went to see it in the afternoon in the lovely Grosvenor cinema in the West End having picked up the tickets earlier in the day. It was a good thing we did because the film was sold out and we sat in the front row. That meant looking up quite a bit, but of course you completely get immersed in the film that way. I loved it from scene one to scene last. Not only does it have an outstanding cast, but it’s also set in one of the most fascinating and colourful countries on Earth, India. Honesty makes me say that in general I am not very much attracted to Asian countries… but India is definitely an exception. Perhaps it’s because of the vibrant and varied colours… or the people… or the warm glowing sunsets… I have no idea, but I would love to visit the country one day. 

Before we saw the film, we went to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum where we had expected the organ to be playing at 1 in the afternoon… but that turned out to be later, so we had a coffee and strolled through the museum instead. Having had a delicious home made cooked breakfast, there was no need for a big lunch today. The museum is simply a delight and even though I’ve been there many times, there is always something new to see and discover.

After the film we walked the (very) short distance to the restaurant where we had dinner, namely Belgian restaurant Brel. Obviously, with me being Dutch, there are some serious hurdles to overcome before I go to a Belgian restaurant (and even more for me to admit that I liked it)… OK, that was a joke. Brel serves very nice food and has quite casual atmosphere and, even though we drank wine tonight, they also serve some seriously delicious Belgian beers. We continued with the wine as we went to The Ubiquitous Chip afterwards for an after dinner drink and we returned to the apartment not much later because Colin has to go to work early tomorrow morning. Time for me to start planning starting a hotel in India, me thinks…

Glasgow, Scotland

It was off to the airport again today! Ehm… but not for me to return to Amsterdam – fortunately. After a lunch at IKEA in Braehead (Swedish meatballs – obviously – served by a rather large and rather gay guy) we went to the airport to pick up Lynne, Colin and Andy’s friend who lives in the London area and who is visiting Glasgow and Aberdeen (her home city) for the next week and a bit. I met Lynne a couple of times in the past so it was great seeing her again, also for me!

After we had dropped off Lynne’s luggage in the apartment we returned to the West End for a coffee in Tinderbox and we then went to Dram! (initially wanting to take a subway train into the city centre until the subway dropped us off one station down and didn’t continue because of ‘an incident’ on the line) where we waited for a message from two other friends, Eugene and Diane who were attending a football match (is that what it’s called with football matches? Attending?) and who would be meeting up with us later today for some food and – yes – drinks.

Now, ‘waiting’ sounds like a nasty word, when I said that we were waiting in Dram! but it was actually very pleasant to sit in the pub that was once called Uisge Beatha, chatting, checking the newspapers and doing the whisky game. The whisky game, yes. It’s a game that was invented by Andy, Colin and myself, and it’s one of the nicest games imaginable. It works like this: one of us goes to the bar, orders three whiskies (of course after having checked that there is indeed enough choice), takes them back to the table and lets the others guess, as good as possible, which whiskies are on the table. Given that there are a hundred distilleries in Scotland, with many of them producing various single malts, it’s very difficult to guess the exact whisky (and close to impossible for me) but there are already points to be had for guessing the correct region (Highlands, Lowlands, Campbelltown, Islay, Islands, Speyside) with Speyside, with its 50 distilleries, the guess with the highest percentage for a successful guess. Even though typically we only buy Scottish single malts, every now and then we’ll sneak in a different type, such as a Scottish blend, or an Irish or American whiskey, but that’s just part of the game.

The whiskies in the picture above were bought at the bar by me. One of them is an Auchentoshan Threewood (Lowlands), one of them is a Ardbeg Blasda (Islay) and one of them is a Glenmorangie Ten Year Old (Speyside.) Up to you to guess which one is which. Quite spectacularly (at least to me, who can’t often even tell a single malt from a blend) Colin guessed the Auchentoshan Threewood correctly and also decided that the Ardbeg one was an Islay. We repeated the whisky game and in the meantime tried to explain it all to Lynne (who couldn’t be convinced and stuck with her vodka-lime and Diet Cokes.) Now some people might say that the whisky game is just a silly excuse to have some nice whiskies in a pub. But those people… well, we don’t listen to what those people have to say.

After Dram! we walked to the wonderful Bon Accord pub where we met up with Eugene and Diane, and not too long after that we had delicious curries in the next door Indian Restaurant. That is truly wonderful in Glasgow; the abundance of Indian restaurants that serve great curries. Coming from a city where Indian restaurants are a bit rarer, having a curry (“the best curries outside India” it is claimed) in Glasgow is a real treat. And tonight was no exception. After we had said our goodbyes to Dianne and Eugene, we walked back towards the apartment but not before popping into another bar on Great Western Road where I ended up being the only one still getting an alcoholic drink (a blend for once) and we also started writing silly things on the fogged up windows. Time to go back home, after a great day out in Glasgow! Oh, and the Ardbeg is the one on the left, the Auchentoshan is in the middle and the Glenmorangie is the one on the right…

Schiphol Amsterdam Airport, Netherlands

At first sight this day was a bit of a repeat of Tuesday. Against previous intentions, I did go to work this morning, and I worked till shortly after lunch. Then, in the mid afternoon I took a train from Zuid station, just outside the office, towards the airport and… well, that’s where the similarities end, really. I didn’t meet my sister and nephew there and I didn’t fly to Barcelona… but I did see the lovely sight that you see in the picture above. An easyJet flight to Glasgow!

EasyJet flew from Amsterdam to Glasgow some ten years ago, when I flew on that route many, many times. Then, they reduced the number of daily flights from two to one, and somewhere in 2005 they stopped flying AMS-GLA altogether. For a brief period of time a low cost carrier called FlyGlobespan took over, but they too abandoned the route. Transavia, a Dutch low cost and holiday airline subsequently tried flying Amsterdam to Glasgow Prestwick Airport (as opposed to Glasgow International used by easyJet and FlyGlobespan) but also closed down their single UK destination some two years after starting it. In the meantime, easyJet continued their Amsterdam to Edinburgh flights so those were the ones I used most in recent years. Then, in the middle of last year came a very nice announcement: easyJet were starting up their AMS-GLA flights again from the end of October 2011. And lo and behold, here is an easyJet flight ready to depart to Glasgow!

Andy and Colin were very kind to come and pick me up from Glasgow airport, and the drive to their apartment was much shorter (despite the fact that it was Friday evening rush hour) than when they came and picked me up in Edinburgh. Naturally (and I know I always say this, and believe me I always mean this) it was absolutely great to be back in Scotland. It sounds melodramatic, and that’s not how it’s intended, but Scotland is the country that never happened for me… but probably should have. Certainly given the current difficulties with the house and the fact that I’m financially tied to Amsterdam for the foreseeable future, it is easy to start dreaming about ‘what if I had dared to make the jump’. But… I didn’t dare, I didn’t jump, and, again for that foreseeable future, the book of Scotland stays closed. But that doesn’t take away the fact that being in Scotland always makes me feel very happy – and much of that happiness of course is due to Colin and Andy’s wonderful hospitality.

A perfect example of that hospitality was tonight’s home made Scottish dinner, with haggis as its star attraction. Delicious! We ate it, accompanied by real ales, and it was simply yummie. Andy and Colin had bought me Christmas presents – a Banksy T-shirt, whisky, chocolates and biscuits - and despite the fact that I had also bought some presents, those weren’t Christmas presents. I have had some tremendously austere months (at least compared to how I used to live) and with Christmas a while ago, buying Christmas presents had been a bit difficult… which was unfortunate tonight… But I will make sure to compensate soon. After dinner we walked into the west end and we had some whiskies, real ales and half-and-halfs in The Doublet. The bar was full, and despite the fact that I felt exhausted (house worries had kept me awake a bit too much last night), I simply felt very happy, looking around me in this wonderful pub, and chatting away with my friends.

Barcelona, Spain

We had to return to the airport in the early afternoon, so this was really just a blitz visit to the Catalan capital, but we still had some time to be very active in the morning. First point of action, after breakfast and checking out of our hotel of course, was a visit to the Aquarium in the Mare Magnum area, once more a first for me in this city. The Aquarium had just opened when we got there and we took our time to see their impressive fish tanks, including the giant tank that you can actually move through (without getting wet, mind you) on a conveyer belt type of walkway. Just as Camp Nou yesterday, this was something I had never done in this city (often in Barcelona I just like to be outside, enjoying the sun and the people) and again it was something I didn’t regret. I was happy that I visited the Aquarium!

Afterwards, we had a stroll through some of the streets in the Gothic area, past the Cathedral (and actually visiting its cloisters) and for a quick lunch close to Plaça de Catalunya, from where we took a bus to the airport. Some quiet time in the airport, a smooth flight back to Amsterdam and a hasty goodbye to my sister and my nephew as they got on the bus to Amstelveen… and that was that again! A long awaited visit to Barcelona had turned out to be very nice, very successful, and very enjoyable.

Camp Nou was impressive, of course, but the nicest aspect really was that I could spend some time with Joyce and Beau. They live in Limburg, so it’s not like I see them daily (although Facebook has brought the family a bit closer together again) and it was really nice to have a couple of days together with them. It’s also interesting to see how Joyce (and that goes for my other sister Ilse as well) is raising her children, especially now that these children have become, or are rapidly becoming, young adults. I don’t have children, will never have them, and that actually is fine by me (I don’t miss having children and never have) but to see how my sisters are singlehandedly, and very capably (under circumstances that aren’t always easy) are raising their kids and turning them into responsible and caring young people actually makes me feel proud of them. And, more so than Camp Nou or the Aquarium, that was probably the best thing for me to witness here in Barcelona. Now if only my nephew could get a contract with FC Barcelona…

Barcelona, Spain

I’m not sure how many times I’ve been to Barcelona, but I would guess would be somewhere in the mid 20s. Considering that I visit the place around twice a year and that I’ve been doing that for quite a while now (give or take a decade) that doesn’t seem to be too wild an estimate. You can say that I love the city to bits. I know my way around, I’ve got a pretty good feeling for orientation, I adore the Mediterranean sea, I love the small street of the Gothic District or the Raval or Barcelona, but can also appreciate the grander buildings in the Eixample, or the modern buildings in the Forum area. Shops, food, people, street life, night life, there really isn’t much that I don’t like about Barcelona and there aren’t too many obvious things that I’ve not done there.

Except Camp Nou. Except anything that has anything to do with FC Barcelona. Except anything football related.

To be honest, after all these visits to this city, I wasn’t even exactly sure where Camp Nou was and I looked it up as we were having breakfast in our hotel this morning. Having left the hotel after breakfast, we walked through parts of the Gothic area (El Gotic) and took a metro from Drassanes station up to Maria Cristina station in the north west of the city. From there it was just a short walk and before we knew it, in the distance, the shape of Camp Nou was getting clearer and clearer.

Camp Nou, and that cannot be stressed enough, is massive. The biggest football stadium in the Netherlands, the Amsterdam ArenA (home to Ajax football club) can hold around 50,000 people. Camp Nou can double that. This modern-day Colosseum has seats for 100,000 people. We bought Camp Nou (meaning New Camp) Experience tickets and walked through the stadium. From the higher level with its press boxes, to the ground level where you could actually nearly touch the holy grass of Camp Nou, and also the visitors’ locker room and Cup Gallery, you could see it all. Most impressive was the short walk from the locker room, past a chapel, to the gate that was the exit to the field – exactly the same walk that countless of hypertense and adrenaline fuelled football players must have walked over all these decades. Really special.

You see, I know nothing of football and even less of FC Barcelona. It was only from the prints on the overpriced T-shirts in the shop that I know they must have a player called Messi playing for them. I wouldn’t know how well they are doing, if they are playing European championships, or anything like that and – really – I don’t care. But the visit to Camp Nou was truly memorable. Why you would visit Rome and go the original Colosseum (which could seat 50,000 people) and not want to see Camp Nou, a modern day arena that holds twice that number, is beyond me… but still, after all these visits to the city this was only my first visit, I’m ashamed to admit.

The reason really has to do with the game of football itself. 22 filthy rich millionaires running after a ball for just an hour and a half per week don’t really deserve a lot of my sympathy, and when you have to pay 120 euros for a T-shirt that has the name Messi printed on it, well, that sort of turns my stomach as well. ‘Barcelona. Mès Que Un Club’ it says, spelled from the differently coloured seats on one side of the stadium. True, it’s not just a club (which is what the phrase means), it’s also an enormous marketing machine – and that is the less elegant side of it all. But having said all that, Camp Nou was truly impressive, and the guided tour was truly interesting. I was glad that my sister had agreed that I could come to Barcelona as well!

We returned to the city centre, again by metro, in the early afternoon and after a stroll down the Ramblas, Barcelona’s main tourist street, we took another metro down to the Sagrada Familia. We didn’t enter the construction site (which also doubles as an actual church) but walked around it and had a coffee in the park on the west side of the church. A wonderful building, to be completed by 2026 if all goes well. A metro ride took us back towards Barceloneta station and after a quick refresh in the hotel we headed out again for dinner on the Plaça Reial. After dinner we went back to the hotel, but I decided I hadn’t had quite enough yet of Barcelona so at around 8 in the evening I went out again and walked to Schilling, on Carrer de Ferran, for a couple of wines. It’s good to know your way in a foreign city! That was a great day in Barcelona!

Amsterdam, Netherlands

At around 6 in the early evening I got on my bike and, on the way home, stopped at the swimming pool for my usual Tuesday night swim… ehm… no, no, actually I didn’t do that. This week is not a usual week and today was not a usual Tuesday. Originally I had planned to have the entire day off, but I did go to the office in an attempt to clear away some work, but then, at 3 in the afternoon I walked out of the World Trade Center, to the adjacent Zuid train station and took a train to the Airport – only seven minutes away.

Months ago, back in the late summer of last year, my sister Joyce, who lives in Limburg, had mentioned that she had booked flights to Barcelona, Spain for a three day stay there, together with her son Beau – my nephew. Beau loves FC Barcelona, Barcelona’s football club and one of the biggest football clubs in the world. I asked her if she would like a travel companion in Barcelona, given that I’m not entirely unfamiliar with the city, and she said yes. So I made sure that I booked tickets for the same flights, and today the long awaited day had finally arrived! We flew to Barcelona just before 6 in the evening on an easyJet flight that took just under two hours.

Upon arrival in Barcelona Airport El Prat we went to the train station (and saw a train depart while I was still struggling with the ticket machine) and took a train to Passeig de Gràcia station, and from there a connecting train to the magnificent França Station. Up until the moment that we got off the train at that station, all that Joyce and Beau had seen was a dark industrial area south of the city and then endless underground train tunnels. França was the first glimpse of BCN and they were both impressed with what they saw.

We went to our hotel first, just around the corner from the station and then went for some food in the nearby Magna Plaza shopping centre in the Port Vell (the old port.) What struck me most was how quiet everything was! Sure, it was 10 in the evening by now, but there really seemed to be no one around! I’m usually in Barcelona in summer or for the winter festive season so it could be that I never noticed before how quiet the city can get, but this seemed extreme. As we walked back to the hotel afterwards, I was keeping my fingers crossed that tomorrow we would actually see some real people.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Admittedly this is not a very exciting picture. It’s of some incense, burning and smoking away in its wooden container. But if you thought that this week is going to be just a boring old week, just as this picture is boring, then you’d be very wrong! Originally I had planned that only today would be a work day, but after a quick glance at my work load I decided it would be best to go into the office tomorrow morning and on Friday morning as well.

And the other days? Well, tomorrow afternoon I will fly to Barcelona with my sister Joyce and my nephew (and her son) Beau and we’ll stay there for two days, returning in the early evening of Thursday. The next day I will be back at the airport, again in the afternoon, for a weekend trip to Glasgow, only to come back to Amsterdam on Monday – one week from now. You can hardly call that a regular week, and of course it’s a week I’ve been looking forward to tremendously.

In the meantime things with the house seem to be going faster and faster as well. My upstairs neighbour has sent an email to the seller of our apartments, demanding immediate payment of the expenses we’ve had so far. It gave me quite a bit to think about today, especially because only last week did we reject a proposal of the seller to settle the dispute. I have no idea where this is going, but to be honest, I am not too optimistic about any of the options. In the evening I thought about what to do quite a lot, and I also wrote an email to the Chinese couple on the ground floor explaining to them (in English) what all has been going on. One decision that I had to make, and very very reluctantly it must be said, was to ask my employer if I can start working full time again from 1 March onwards. After fifteen years of having worked part time, that will be a particularly cruel blow to my way of life – or at least that’s how I feel about it now (of course I know that the majority of people work full time, but hey, I’m not the majority of people.) But that is for next week to worry about. That will be after thousands of miles of travel.