No matter how undeserved we thought the 5 stars were, it was a bit of a come down to leave the 5 star hotel that I shared with my friend and slink on over to the €20/night, 6 bedded hostel dorm, once she had flown back to Geneva after our weekend in Amsterdam.
It was great having a friend to explore Amsterdam with - soaking up the culture at the art galleries and museums, cruising on the canal, pottering about the flower market, trying to avoid being run over by bicycles, tittering at the displays of the red light district, being shafted on tasteless muffins with no apparent extra special qualities (me), and lamenting the limitations of the gluten-intolerant diner and eating chips for breakfast (her). But the other benefit of having a friend in Amsterdam was that it provided a little buffer. A little protection. Safety in numbers.
So, after settling into my new accomodation now I was on my own again, with no 5 star luxury to entice me into staying in (not that I was really inclined to), I went to complete the things that I hadn't managed to see over our weekend together. I had booked into a day trip around Holland for the Monday, and was flying out on the Tuesday, so I then turned to considering my options for the rest of Sunday. Well, springtime in Holland - there must be a blaze of flowers out at Vondelpark so I set off with my (at the time functioning) camera to see what I could see.
And all that I could see - was a park covered in a blanket of, well, not tulips, that's for sure. The previous day had been a beautiful, sunny day, and apparently this was a rarity. I was told that 9000 people had been in the park on the Saturday - you couldn't move for people on the Saturday. You couldn't move for rubbish on the Sunday. The park staff don't work on Sundays: bins were overflowing, refuse strewn all over the ground. The water features were filthy with oil, plastic and paper floating on the top. And amongst all of this mess, families were frolicking in the debris, children were skipping, lovers wandering about hand-in-hand, yogis doing yoga. Unbelievable.
Wandering about in a horrified daze, taking photos that would have been great for a blog or whatever, if my camera still worked and I could upload them, a man approaches me, and starts making small talk. I took the opportunity to ask what on earth had happened to the park. Hmmm...mistake #1. Couldn't get rid of him after that, could I. So, I'm wandering along, taking my photos, and he's following me. Waiting very patiently while I spend *quite* some time getting the right shot. He's suggesting things for me to look at - just over here, behind these bushes... yeahnah, you're alright. I'll just stay in public view, if that's ok.
The little dance of my trying to tactfully get rid of him - and him not going, continued for quite some time, until I came to an epiphany - 'why am I being tactful?' so I turned to him and said 'excuse me, but you're making me feel very uncomfortable.' to which he immediately said 'oh, sorry!' and turned and left. Who would have thought?
Out of the frying pan and into the fire?
Well, now I was alone again - and I'm getting the feeling that you don't go into the park in the middle of broad daylight on your own in Amsterdam, because now the drunk vagrants are eyeing me up, and I'm not enjoying the attention, and I'm backing away, keeping my eye on them, and they're rowdily yelling things at me in Dutch, that I don't understand. Thankfully. So when an elderly man, walking his dog comes up and starts chatting to me, I'm quite relieved. I have my buffer back again. He's intrigued by my camera and modern fandangled technology, we have amiable conversation, he shows me the parrots and I'm thinking - this is good - loneliness is a serious issue for the elderly, and this lonely old man gets some company for an hour or so, and I'm not being approached by every desperate man in the park. An hour later, I'm thinking - what a nice man, so when he invites me to go and have a cup of coffee with him, I say yes, that would be lovely. We go walking towards the shops, and I'm surprised when we don't walk into a cafe, but up to a private residence. Oh, he's taking me to his house for a coffee. Hmmm. What do I think about this? Well, really, I'm pretty confident that I could beat off an 80 year old if it came to it. So, coffee turns into dinner, and a glass or two of wine, he turns on the music and starts dancing and pulls me up to take a twirl with him. What is it with me and old men? And what is it about me, that doesn't get that although in my head, I'm having dinner with grandad, in his, he's on a date and planning his seduction? Yes, mid-twirl, he makes his move and takes a lunge at me-
I duck!
He dives-
I'm grabbing my bag, and am heading for the door-
'You can't leave me!' he cries with a wretched tone in his voice.
'Watch me', I think at him. Callously.
'I'll walk you home.......'
I don't want him to know where I'm staying, so I continue on with my storming off.
He follows.
I get outside, and realise that I don't know the way home. Damn. I walk off in the general direction that we had come with him following close behind.
I'm irritated. Then I remember - he's in his 80's. I'm not. I pick up the pace, leaving him in the distance, calling after me -
'Don't leave me! I'm your man! I'm a man, I'm a maaaaannnnn!'
I guess that loneliness is still a serious issue for the elderly.
The next day, on my bus tour, I look into my bag and saw that he'd slipped me a packet of stroopwafels (caramel waffle biscuits) for the trip. If only he were 50 years younger.
It was great having a friend to explore Amsterdam with - soaking up the culture at the art galleries and museums, cruising on the canal, pottering about the flower market, trying to avoid being run over by bicycles, tittering at the displays of the red light district, being shafted on tasteless muffins with no apparent extra special qualities (me), and lamenting the limitations of the gluten-intolerant diner and eating chips for breakfast (her). But the other benefit of having a friend in Amsterdam was that it provided a little buffer. A little protection. Safety in numbers.
So, after settling into my new accomodation now I was on my own again, with no 5 star luxury to entice me into staying in (not that I was really inclined to), I went to complete the things that I hadn't managed to see over our weekend together. I had booked into a day trip around Holland for the Monday, and was flying out on the Tuesday, so I then turned to considering my options for the rest of Sunday. Well, springtime in Holland - there must be a blaze of flowers out at Vondelpark so I set off with my (at the time functioning) camera to see what I could see.
And all that I could see - was a park covered in a blanket of, well, not tulips, that's for sure. The previous day had been a beautiful, sunny day, and apparently this was a rarity. I was told that 9000 people had been in the park on the Saturday - you couldn't move for people on the Saturday. You couldn't move for rubbish on the Sunday. The park staff don't work on Sundays: bins were overflowing, refuse strewn all over the ground. The water features were filthy with oil, plastic and paper floating on the top. And amongst all of this mess, families were frolicking in the debris, children were skipping, lovers wandering about hand-in-hand, yogis doing yoga. Unbelievable.
Wandering about in a horrified daze, taking photos that would have been great for a blog or whatever, if my camera still worked and I could upload them, a man approaches me, and starts making small talk. I took the opportunity to ask what on earth had happened to the park. Hmmm...mistake #1. Couldn't get rid of him after that, could I. So, I'm wandering along, taking my photos, and he's following me. Waiting very patiently while I spend *quite* some time getting the right shot. He's suggesting things for me to look at - just over here, behind these bushes... yeahnah, you're alright. I'll just stay in public view, if that's ok.
The little dance of my trying to tactfully get rid of him - and him not going, continued for quite some time, until I came to an epiphany - 'why am I being tactful?' so I turned to him and said 'excuse me, but you're making me feel very uncomfortable.' to which he immediately said 'oh, sorry!' and turned and left. Who would have thought?
Out of the frying pan and into the fire?
Well, now I was alone again - and I'm getting the feeling that you don't go into the park in the middle of broad daylight on your own in Amsterdam, because now the drunk vagrants are eyeing me up, and I'm not enjoying the attention, and I'm backing away, keeping my eye on them, and they're rowdily yelling things at me in Dutch, that I don't understand. Thankfully. So when an elderly man, walking his dog comes up and starts chatting to me, I'm quite relieved. I have my buffer back again. He's intrigued by my camera and modern fandangled technology, we have amiable conversation, he shows me the parrots and I'm thinking - this is good - loneliness is a serious issue for the elderly, and this lonely old man gets some company for an hour or so, and I'm not being approached by every desperate man in the park. An hour later, I'm thinking - what a nice man, so when he invites me to go and have a cup of coffee with him, I say yes, that would be lovely. We go walking towards the shops, and I'm surprised when we don't walk into a cafe, but up to a private residence. Oh, he's taking me to his house for a coffee. Hmmm. What do I think about this? Well, really, I'm pretty confident that I could beat off an 80 year old if it came to it. So, coffee turns into dinner, and a glass or two of wine, he turns on the music and starts dancing and pulls me up to take a twirl with him. What is it with me and old men? And what is it about me, that doesn't get that although in my head, I'm having dinner with grandad, in his, he's on a date and planning his seduction? Yes, mid-twirl, he makes his move and takes a lunge at me-
I duck!
He dives-
I'm grabbing my bag, and am heading for the door-
'You can't leave me!' he cries with a wretched tone in his voice.
'Watch me', I think at him. Callously.
'I'll walk you home.......'
I don't want him to know where I'm staying, so I continue on with my storming off.
He follows.
I get outside, and realise that I don't know the way home. Damn. I walk off in the general direction that we had come with him following close behind.
I'm irritated. Then I remember - he's in his 80's. I'm not. I pick up the pace, leaving him in the distance, calling after me -
'Don't leave me! I'm your man! I'm a man, I'm a maaaaannnnn!'
I guess that loneliness is still a serious issue for the elderly.
The next day, on my bus tour, I look into my bag and saw that he'd slipped me a packet of stroopwafels (caramel waffle biscuits) for the trip. If only he were 50 years younger.
sorry msbr35257, I accidentally moderated your arse and deleted your comment. Feel free to try again.
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