Now for something less...negative.

(Started this on Friday, but got distracted by a kid or something...)

Ok. That's out of my system.
New blog.

So...yesterday (Thursday) I went to Amersfoort to hang out with Carmela (cause it's the closest middle point to visit between our respective 'homes'). After a frustrating experience that involved an empty bank account, the resulting inability to take the train, and a map that cut off just before the city that I had to drive into, I got to the station and met Carmela almost an hour late. She's a very forgiving sister. Apparently you gotta be with me sometimes. :)
We found this interesting bar that was blaring hard rock (Metallica, ACDC, etc.), had pictures and parts of Harley-Davidsons everywhere, consisted of wooden chairs/tables/bar, even had the taps coming out of motor parts. I think they were going for the "southern" feel. I woulda really liked the place if it didn't also have confederate flags all over the the place. I couldn't help but be slightly uncomfortable. I half expected to see Nazi flags hidden in some corners, too. I wonder though if they simply didn't realize what the flag is associated with...

(time lapse... now its monday)

I got lost on the way to Amersfoort, then also on the way back. I tried to take a short cut, but I somehow managed to make a full circle and come back onto the same road I had been on before, heading in the direction of Amsterdam. My map did not cover that side of A'dam, so I got lost.
Getting lost in any Dutch city is easy to do and very frustrating. Getting lost in Amsterdam...well, lets just say it is not a happy experience. I would have been ashamed if my mother could hear my regular outbursts each time I realized that I had missed another road I needed and that I couldn't turn around to get back to it cause I was surrounded by one way streets that curve into the wrong direction. I finally ended up in the absolute center of the city, where I finally parked, and walked the rest of the way to meet Dane, Andrew, and 'Cheka'. We found a cute little bar, full of older men, where they served peanuts and gave us funny looks. The one other woman in the bar was quite drunk and very talkative. She eventually came over to our table, asking where we were from, to which each time she answered "Sue-pah!", and slurred in a very strange accent several other questions to which I don't believe she understood the answers. She said she was from NewYork, that she had married a Dutch man whom she met once when her husband-at-the-time was shooting a documentary elsewhere. Apparently her then-husband found out, they had a big fight, she left the two men to figure out their differences, and took a trip to Holland. While there her husband died in a car accident. I guess the other guy came here, they married, and now she was at the bar while he was sleeping in his office. Happy woman. I felt so sad for her. It was pretty clear that she was at this bar more often. She warned me about the dangers of marrying a dutchman. I smiled and told her I'd keep them in mind.
How do people fuck up their lives so much?

The rest of the night consisted of getting lost again, this time with Dane sitting next to me. He offered his navigational skills for a ride home, and I think he assumed that the reason I got lost had everything to do with my airheadedness and lack of directional abilities or something. Five minutes later, during which we had promptly gotten so lost we had no idea where we were, he was swearing under his breath. As our little adventure continued, our mumblings got more loud and more clear. We did eventually find the way, at which point I realized that I had been really close to the VU before i took a turn that led me to downtown earlier that night. Ugh. Ah well. It was exciting. Sort of.
Getting up the next day was not.

And that brings me to Friday, which was another story.

The weekend was much better.

And now it's Monday again.
I can't wait for the weekend!