Madrid, Spain

Our last day in Madrid was really only half a day, because with our flight at 5 in the afternoon, it would mean leaving the city centre just after 2 in order to get to the airport in time. Once more we got up early, though maybe not as early as yesterday, given the late hour last night. Our breakfast was again in the same restaurant on the Plaza Mayor where we had had breakfast yesterday and a lunch on Friday already. The barkeeper already recognised us and knew our orders. We've become regulars in this place in a very short time, it seems! The picture is of the Plaza Mayor as seen through the wine glasses that stood upside down, outside at our breakfast restaurant.

The Plaza Mayor is also the place where every Sunday morning many collectors come to buy and sell items from their collections. And these collections vary wildly. Of course there are stamps, coins and bank notes, but some people also collect the metal discs on top of champagne corks, or national lottery tickets, or telephone cards (remember those?) - anything you can think of, basically. We had a stroll around half of the square and then left the Plaza Mayor to walk along the Calle Mayor (past the astonishingly beautiful Cathedral of the Armed Forces) and then headed towards the Latina where we ended up on a huge flea market.

We had already decided where we would be having lunch, namely on the Plaza de Vázquez de Mella, where we had had outside drinks and dinner last night already. It was then that we had noticed that they also sell pinchos. These are various snacks, typically served on a slice of French bread, and invariably they are delicious. There are some great bars on the Passeig de Gràcia in Barcelona that serve them, but here in Madrid you don't see them very often. We enjoyed them tremendously as we sat outside once more, a big group of cute, young Englishmen behind us (why do British guys prefer to travel in herds of 8 or more?) while eating our pinchos and drinking our lunch wines. Life was good!

But of course, all good things must come to an end, and so did our weekend in Madrid. From the Plaza de Vázquez de Mella we walked up the Calle de Fuencarral with its fancy boutique shops until we reached the Tribunal metro station. "Look around you once more," I said to Günter, "because that was Madrid! For now, at least." And that's when we entered the uniform and shapeless world of mass transport. We got to the airport well in time and before we knew it we were once more airborne, en route to Amsterdam, where it was still just a bit light as we got to the gate. That was the end of our trip to celebrate our fifteen years of knowing each other. Time to start planning on what to do in five years' time.

Madrid, Spain

It was still early (at least for a Saturday, and at least given the fact that we're on holiday) when we left the hotel in order to find a place to have breakfast. It turned out to be the same restaurant where we had the chorizo yesterday, except this time we didn't sit outside and we also didn't have deep-fried chorizo for breakfast. We opted for the boccadillo with jamon (ham) instead, and it turned out to be equally delicious.

For the Saturday I had figured out in advance that it might be a nice idea to walk towards the Atocha station, just east of the city centre, have look in its impressive halls where a botanic garden now is where trains used to wait, and then - after that - have a leisurely stroll through the adjacent Retiro Park, with its many wonderful paths and nice vistas. I figured that we could easily spend the entire morning and part of the afternoon there, because typically when I'm in Madrid on my own, an entire afternoon in Retiro can happen quite easily.

So, after breakfast, we walked towards the Atocha station, carefully avoiding the busy Calle de Atocha, and choosing the much friendlier Calle de las Huertas instead. I noticed that Günter was doing more than strolling... he was walking quite fast, as if he had a mission (which he probably did: see as much of Madrid as possible in 2.5 days) so we arrived at Atocha at around 10 in the morning already. We had a quick look in the botanic garden section and at the turtles in the pond there, and not much later left the station again. This was going much quicker than what I had anticipated!

An equally quick stroll took us to the beautiful Retiro park, which we entered from the south side. We walked toward the Rose Garden but of course it was too early in the year for roses, so from there we headed north, basically crossing the park. We had a rest at the rather megalomaniac monument to King Alfonso XIII, enjoying the wonderful sunshine, but not much later, Günter, still on a mission, suggested moving on. Instead of crossing the park in southbound direction via a different route, he suggested leaving the park at it northwestern corner and returning towards the city centre. It was just after 11 in the morning. This had gone much, much quicker than what I had expected. That wasn't a bad thing, but it did mean that I was a bit at a loss at what to do next.

"So, what's the plan?" Günter asked, "where do we go from here?"

I had to admit that I had no idea, and pointed in the general direction of the city centre. We ambled through some of the quieter streets, towards the Puerta del Sol, where we ended up at around lunch time. We found a nice restaurant close to the Plaza Mayor and sat outside in the warm sunshine, having boccadillos calamares and sipping wine. It was superb! the hasty pace of the morning calmed down to a leisurely walk - much better indeed. It was with difficulty that we decided that we had to continue after lunch, but in the end we managed to get up from the table and continue.

We did so by having a look in some of the shops in the main shopping streets that spin off from Puerta del Sol. We also went to a typical Spanish bar on the Plaza de Santa Ana, and at the end of the afternoon again ended up having some more drinks and delicious olives on the square where we'd been yesterday already, very close to the hotel. There, we discovered that they also had a nice dinner options, so after a bit of a rest we returned there once more to have dinner... and yes, some more drinks. It was well and truly time then to go to some of the bars, which we did with gusto. Some midnight Iberico ham snacks kept us going to well after one, when finally we saw our hotel room again...

Madrid, Spain

I've talked about it a couple of times on this blog, so there's no point repeating it once again here... but the fact that Günter and I met fifteen years ago, in a small gay bar called Gaiety on Amstel, was the reason that I met up with him this morning just outside his and Rob's house, close to Central Station. It was only 8:00 in the morning but the sun was already shining nicely. It was cold in Amsterdam but the forecast for the weekend in Madrid was for nice and warm, sunny weather. No objections to that!

We walked to Central Station, took a train to the airport, went through security and then through to the boarding area, and before we knew it we were airborne, on our way to the Spanish capital. During the two hour flight, we chatted, we read, and we ate chocolate. The trip into Madrid from Barajas Airport is by metro and you have to change trains twice to do so, but everything went very efficient and without hiccups so it was at around two o'clock that we got to our hotel, checked in, and then walked out again, ready to discover Madrid!

Günter seemed quite impressed. It was his first visit to Madrid, and already as we had emerged from the Chueca metro station, he had looked around him at the little, cute square and exclaimed a genuine 'wow!' to show he liked what he saw. It stayed that way, as we walked towards the Puerta del Sol, Madrid's central square and heaving with tourists, and then on to the majestic Plaza Mayor, with its wonderful arcades, where the above picture was taken. We had deepfried chorizo sausages on roll for lunch and they were absolutely delicious.

We continued our walk towards the Plaza de Oriente, and then on to the Royal Palace and the Almudena Cathedral, then turning back towards the Plaza d'España and the Gran Via. It was all met with enthusiastic happiness, and it must be said... even though if I would have to chose between the two, Barcelona would be my favourite, but Madrid is a truly impressive and grand city. It's much bigger than Barcelona, with a population about twice the size of the Catalan capital, and it's also a true capital city, with its government buildings, wonderful museums and major shopping streets.

After some drinks outside in the sun on the Plaza de Vázquez de Mella, we returned to the hotel in the late afternoon for a quick rest, only to head out into the city again in the early evening, when we strolled towards the La Latina district and then returned to a very nice restaurant just south of the Plaza Mayor where we had a delicious meal and some nice beers and wine. A visit to some of the bars I usually go to when I'm here on my own followed and at around midnight, at a very decent time, we were back in the hotel for a well deserved sleep. A very successful first day in Madrid behind us.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Last work day of the week, because tomorrow I will go to Madrid! Yay! The picture, of the airport, was taken from the 26th floor of the office building, and with the zoom lens of my camera at the maximum value. This little camera continues to amaze me, ever since I bought it last September. I use it very frequently, and actually I've been neglecting my proper SLR completely. Not only is this smaller Nikon much easier to carry around, its pictures are also of a quality that I'm happy with. They're enough for my amateur purposes.

In the evening, at home, I packed my bag for three days in Madrid. That didn't require a lot of packing of course, but one thing I did make sure of to pack were two bars of Swiss chocolate of a brand that Günter loves, and that were given to me by couchsurfer Cristián the other week. Not only will Günter be pleased to have some of the chocolate on the flights to and from Madrid, but that way he also helps me eating the chocolate. I've been dieting a bit these days and I'm not sure chocolate fits in any diet, so it will help if Günter also eats some of my chocolate.

Oh, and another thing I did today was order digital TV. At the moment I have TV from one provider (UPC) and Internet and telephony from another (Tele2), and I figured that combining the two and having everything with one provider (Tele2) would save me a bit of money. So, I cancelled UPC, and tonight ordered the combination with Tele2. It will get delivered by early April, or so I was told. It's not like a watch a lot of TV, but this way I'll have more TV channels and I will save money. Surely that's a wise decision.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

It's Wednesday, and normally that would mean that I would meet up with Günter this evening... but this week is an exception. We'll be spending the entire weekend together, in Madrid, to celebrate that we've known each other for fifteen years, so that meant that he spent the evening with Rob, and I spent the evening at home, alone.

It meant that I didn't have to hurry as much as on normal Wednesday evenings, when I need to find time to squeeze in an hour of swimming between leaving the office and arriving at home. I could work just a bit longer, and I could also swim a bit more relaxed, not having to watch the clock all the time. It was raining quite a bit when I left the office and that had made me hope that the swimming pool would be fairly quiet, and much to my relief I was right about that! I swim four times a week (in normal weeks, which most of them are) namely on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday nights just after work, and then also on Sunday. While Friday and Sunday tend to be fairly quiet days, it's the Tuesdays and Wednesdays where swimming a lap can be quite a struggle, avoiding many people along the way. But not tonight - it was great!

The picture shows potato peels, and they were the result of me peeling a kilogram of potatoes. No, it's not that I was that hungry, but typically I prepare enough food to last me for two or three meals (keeping the extra portions in the freezer) and that's what I did today as well. The potatoes were used in a dish that also contained carrots and onions. Despite the fact that I had more than enough time to think about subjects for today's photo (with Günter not coming over)... I'm afraid this one will have to do. Sorry.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Tonight, after work, I met up with Sean and Mike, who had booked a table in Restaurant Spelt, just off Herengracht. Twice a year, Amsterdam restaurants organise 'Restaurant Week' (sponsored by a major credit card company who no doubt benefit from higher than average credit card use as well) and usually that event goes by me completely unnoticed... but this time I'd been invited by Sean to join them. It was a very nice evening out, and the fairly restricted menu (there's less choice in Restaurant Week but the price range is also much lower so you can try some adventurous food for a good price) offered enough variation for a very nice meal! Because Sean had given me a ticket to the Madonna show in July the other week, I decided that today's meal would be on me... and I'm saying that, hoping that soon a substantial amount of money that the seller of our apartments still owes us will come back my way again. If not... well, I'll see about that next month then.

The picture was taken as I was nearly home again. It's of the Waalse Kerk (Eglise Wallonne, Walloon Church) just three houses from my front door. The canal on which I live, Oudezijds Achterburgwal, is nowadays mostly known as the heart of the Red Light District, but there were times, some centuries ago, that a lot of Amsterdam's churches, convents and monasteries were to be found here. The bridge in front of the house is still called Paulusbroederssluis (Lock of the Brothers of St Paul) and some of the streets close by also still carry the names of the convents that were once housed there. The Waalse Kerk was once part of a larger complex but now stands on its own. It's a protestant church with services in French. Once upon a time, when protestants fled France and came to the Netherlands where they could live in freedom, the Netherlands had many French language churches, but nowadays that number has gone down quite a lot. The Waalse Kerk still has its services in French though, every sunday at 11 as a sign outside the church announces. Funnily enough, at the time when he lived in Amsterdam, Vincent van Gogh used to go to this church frequently. Oh, how times have changed.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

It would have been the first work day of my new five-days-a-week full time work life... if it weren't for the fact that I will not be in the office on Friday. So it's still only a four day work week this week and that just suits me fine. Not sure if I can face the five days schedule just yet.

After work I went to the local liquor store and got two bottles of whisky. I had run out of supply, apart from two bottles that I am keeping for possible future "special occasions", whenever those may be (if ever.) So I got a bottle of Glenlivet 12 years old and a bottle of Talisker 10 years old. I opened the former tonight... and you can see that in the picture above.

I could go on a rant now about how shocked and disgusted I am with some outrageous remarks made by the Roman Catholic Cardinal Keith o'Brien for Scotland this weekend in the debate on same sex marriage that is currently going on in the UK... but I won't. It would make me too angry and this guy - and the church - is not worth the energy that would cost me. They're despicable and hateful losers, and time and time again they hurt me in my innermost being. OK - that was a small rant. Now I need a drink.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

A lazy day in Amsterdam. I checked the film agenda for various Amsterdam cinemas in the morning and saw that a film I had wanted to see, Süskind, was playing in the Kriterion film theatre just east of the city centre. In the early afternoon I walked there.

It's often jokingly said that Dutch films are obsessed with either sex or the World War II. It's a weird combination for sure, but it's true, an unusual high percentage of films made in this country deal with sexual themes in quite a visual way and, equally, a high percentage of Dutch cinema takes places in the years 1940-1945. Süskind falls in the latter category. I wanted to see the film after having seen it filmed on a canal just behind my new apartment last summer. I was curious if the scene I had witnessed, of main character Walter Süskind on a bike in front of his house, actually made it to the final cut (turned out it hadn't) and also because it got me interested in the historical character of Walter Süskind.

Often described as the Dutch Oskar Schindler, Süskind, a German refugee Jew who ended up living in Amsterdam, was responsible for saving hundreds of Jewish children from transport to the concentration camps in Germany and Poland because he was put in charge of the Hollandsche Schouwburg, a former theatre that had been turned into an assembly point by the nazis where Amsterdam Jews needed to report before they were put on transport to Westerbork and then on to the east - and a near certain death. He was criticised for the very same reason: not only did he help Jewish children escape the horrors of the nazi camps by finding them places to hide with Dutch families, he was also part of the machine that facilitated the smooth transport of more than 100,000 Jews to the east. Almost none returned.

In no other country was the ratio of Jews that were taken away from their homes by the nazis as high as in this country. It was due to many Dutch people collaborating with the occupier (or preferring to look the other way) but also because there was a meticulous administration of Jewish families and where they lived in place already, bizarrely enough because of the thorough work done by the Joodsche Raad, Jewish Council. It's left quite a deep scar on Dutch society and that might help explain the disproportionately high ratio of World War II films that are still being produced to this day.

Süskind was a fascinating film. Not only the story of the main character kept me captivated, but also the story of this city, Amsterdam, as it was told in the film. To see Amsterdam, now such a free city, as it was only three generations ago, was quite shocking. The same houses, the same canals, the same people - really - that you can see nowadays (the picture was taken after the film, as I walked to the swimming pool via Prinsengracht), but under a dark and suffocating blanket of an oppressive and criminal occupying regime... Scary.

If you check public transport tables in Amsterdam these days, you will notice that there is no tram line with the number 8. It seems not really relevant. After all, there is also no tram line with number 6 (it was scrapped a couple of years ago) or number 11 for example (also scrapped.) But it's been a long time since there was a tram line with the number 8. You would have to go back to World War II, when it was mainly that tram line that was used by Jewish families, as it ran through the city's main Jewish quarter. After the war the city decided to retire the number 8 trams and never let them return to the city's streets - out of respect for the many Jewish families that didn't return to Amsterdam. And there, in Süskind, there it was again. A single car tram taking Jewish people to the Hollandsche Schouwburg. A tram with the number 8 on its front.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

As I walked towards the supermarket today, I looked around towards the house and much to my surprise I noticed some changes. No longer was the scaffolding blocking the entire façade of the building. The top part had been removed now. And the little statue of a lion at the very top of the building was now visible again. The pointing between the bricks was also visible, and quite frankly looking good. Where previously the layers between the bricks had been crumbling or even missing altogether, there was now a fresh layer of pointing visible.

The biggest change was that that layer was quite white, completely changing the look of the building, and even more radical was that the lion had been painted white as well. The neighbours from the third and fourth floors had mentioned that they would like the lions painted white in our meeting earlier this year, and I had said at the time that I didn't care that much about what they turned out to be as long as the necessary maintenance work on the house would have been done properly, but I was a bit shocked by how white the lions turned out to be today. What's more, also the horizontal stones left and right were now white. Radically white. I'm not sure yet how this is all going to work out, but as long as the façade will be done completely and the house will look brand new again when this is all done, then I'm OK with it.

In the afternoon I went to Deco for the first time this year. I used to go almost every weekend, at least those weeks when I was in Amsterdam, but I've been cutting down on my visits to Deco (and to Spijker for that matter), a bit for financial reasons, but mostly because it seems like I've gone into hibernation a bit. I need to increase my social contacts a bit again, and going to Deco today was a first, nice step.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Whenever I used to post about something that had occurred in the office, I would put 'Amstelveen' at the top of the post, but of course that is no longer the case since our company moved to the Zuidas financial district of Amsterdam. So, mostly it now says 'Amsterdam' - also when it is about something at work. Such as today.

Last week, my Mexican colleague Ana had a very special birthday. Of course it would be impolite to ask for a lady's age, and it would be downright rude to publish it on the Interweb, but let's just say that twenty years ago, Ana moved to the Netherlands when she was... well... let's just say, barely an adult. There. That's diplomatically put. 

She spent the past two weeks back in Mexico, celebrating her birthday with family and fiends in Cuernavaca, in the state of Morelos, a two hour drive south of Mexico City, and she also spent a week in a luxurious hotel in Acapulco. She'll be back on Monday, and to celebrate her return - and her birthday - after work today, I printed a poster of her (from a photo I took of her two years ago) and taped it to the windows. I should probably have turned it around so that the whole of Amstelveen could have seen Ana staring at them from the 26th floor, but this way it was just looking into the office. It looked quite nice actually and I hope Ana will appreciate it! After all, it's not every day that you turn 50!... Whoops...