Amsterdam New Year's

The Heineken Experience was closed for renovations until Spring 2008 and most of the museums were closed during the time we were there—outside of Saturday the 29th (our first full day there), the 30th was a Sunday (things were closed off GP), the 31st was New Year’s Eve and the 1st was New Year’s Day (and we left January 2nd). Yeah, we slept on hitting the museum scene on Saturday (literally and figuratively), but we still saw a lot that day (no pun intended ;-). For that reason, outside of New Year’s Eve, there were no real major occurrences that took place in Amsterdam. Each of the days was pretty much the same…walking around, going in and out of different shops and all in all enjoying all the beautiful scenery the city had to offer. And oh, does it offer a bounty. So much so, that you’ll have to check my photo sharing account (when I post the link) to check out all the pictures. Sidebar: Over the course of the entire Paris/Brussels/Amsterdam soiree, I took more than 1,000 pictures…no lie.

That doesn’t mean that there isn’t anything to blog about. It just means that New Year’s in Amsterdam was really the only “blog-worthy” event that took place during this leg of the trip. I’m also going to follow-up this blog with an “Amsterdam Misc” blog that should hopefully cover all the remaining stuff that happened or I noticed while in Amsterdam that isn’t necessarily covered in this blog.

Our original plan was get dressed up and go somewhere (an actual inside venue) for New Year’s. But after procrastinating for the entire trip (truthfully, we should have called around and checked on stuff prior to leaving Frankfurt), we found that our options were pretty much nil. Still though, that didn’t mean we were SOL. New Year’s in Amsterdam’s Dam Square is pretty packed and chaotic we were told, and we were down for the experience.

Now, to put the evening in the proper context, New Year’s Eve is an all day event in Amsterdam. The morning of New Year’s Eve, we awoke to the sound of what we thought were gunshots, but (as we would find out later and hear about every 30 seconds throughout the rest of the day) were fireworks, set off by the population at large.

The day progressed just like all the other days in Amsterdam (walking around, shopping intermittently, me taking pictures, Kadija exhausted from me taking so many pictures, eating at whatever restaurant we happened upon). The evening, however, was a bit different. It started I’d say at about 10 o’clock.

We walked from the hotel to Dam Square and as we approached, there was a polica barricade at the street entrance to Dam Square. We then saw a sign that said, among other things, no alcohol. Well, we weren’t about to bring in the New Year without popping the bottle of Mo’ we had with us. Our “extensive” walks through this area of the city educated us to another “pseudo-back way” to Dam Square. Now, if this were ANY American city during New Year’s and the police wished to block off or control what comes into an area, you can be sure that ALL entrances (automobile, pedestrian or otherwise) would have a police presence. So Kadija and I found it quite funny that this “pseudo-back way” (which was basically like the pedestrian pathway for the street the cops had blocked off) was completely devoid of police. Needless to say, we passed right through, bottle of Mo’ in tow, and found us a place to stand, with a view of the Dam Square super huge TV screen, right under this monument:


Here's the view:


At about this time, it was around like 10-10:30pm. They had this stage set up in Dam Square where they had various acts performing. One of them that stood out was this kid who was like 12 or something but was playing the hell out the drums. It was basically him and another older dude on the drums taking turns soloing while the other kept time or something. Despite all this, it was pretty uneventful (save for the industrial-grade fireworks that people were letting off IN THE STREET—literally, where all the people were gathered).

(see the smoke trail of one someone just let off?)

It wasn’t long before Kadija and I were hungry, so we went to one of the many “create your own stir-fry” places in Amsterdam…and they were always DAMN good (pun intended). Basically, you choose the meat, vegetables and sauce and its ready in like 5 minutes. I’m sure these type of places have found their way to over NY and are probably all over places like Thailand, but it was new to me…and it hot the spot.

We were done with our food at around 11:30pm, so we headed back over to the spot under the monument we were standing at before. It was around this time that they brought the last act onto the stage—some troupe that played these bass heavy drums (think jungley like Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom). OK, to me, whoever was the program director for this New Year’s entertainment needs to straight up be fired. Yeah, I’ll concede that the playing of the drums sort of built up the anticipation for the coming year (their playing got more and more intense as midnight approached), but honestly they could of done better in such a New Year’s heavy city like Amsterdam. Secondly, AND THIS REALLY PISSED ME OFF (ask Kadija)…THEY ONLY SHOWED THE CLOCK 5 MINUTES AND 10 SECONDS BEFORE NEW YEAR’S. THE REST OF THE TIME THEY SHOWED THESE SORT OF MOVING SQUARES IN RED, BLUE AND ORANGE ON REPEAT (LITERALLY, THE WHOLE “MOVEMENT SEQUENCE” WAS LIKE 15 SECONDS IN TOTAL). You know, I could understand if it was a cultural difference thing where in America they always show the clock so you have an idea of how much time is left while over in Holland they feel the showing of the clock only matters for the countdown. But when you usurp my clock viewing time to show me moving squares (and I don’t care if it was part of the drumming troupe’s act/show)…I’m pissed, I’m sorry. And yeah, you could say that many of the people out there were on some sort of drug and the intent of the “moving square sequence” was to accentuate their high…but I guarantee, more people were blown than blown away…feasible?!

All right, I’m off my soapbox.

So, if the fireworks in the middle of the street weren’t enough then you had people climbing onto the monument we were standing under and around. The view from up there was spectacular I’m sure, but I mean, seriously, this is like the equivalent of someone climbing on the Lincoln Memorial during the 4th to get a better view of the fireworks and/or the Mall. And the police did nothing…as they did with the fireworks. And climbing up there was no cake-walk either. To get up there, you had to either jump or get pulled up to the ledge which was like (and I’m being conservative here) a good 12 feet high. This picture gives an idea of what I’m talking about…


So the countdown happened, 2008 started, fireworks went off like Beruit and it wasn’t until like 5 minutes into 2008 that I was finally able to pop the cork on the bottle of Moet (it was stuck in there some kinda serious). But we had a ball nonetheless…




Earlier, when we were researching last minute New Year’s options, someone told us that the fireworks in the red light district were where it’s at. So after the Dam Square countdown, we headed over to the PACKED red light district and lo’ and behold, dude was right. And the thing about these fireworks was that there was this neighborhood aesthetic to it. Of course there were random people just letting off fireworks by the canal (along the packed narrow sidewalks, mind you). But the piece-de-resistance were these 3 or 4 dudes who had a docked flat-bed boat upon which they set off these spectacular fireworks every 5 minutes for like a half an hour to 45 minutes. And these weren’t no kiddie fireworks, these were the super load, super high, even spiraling fireworks I had never seen before. And for it to be happening no more than just 100 meters right in front of me made it all the more brilliant.







When it seemed as if dudes were out of fireworks, and the thunderous roar of applause from all of the red light district’s residents and tourists had subsided, Kadija and I walked through the streets and alleyways of the red light district in its most frenzied of states…



About half an hour later we walked back to the hotel and called it a night.

I’ll leave you all with this stunning picture of Kadija’s silhouette.


Cheers.

Amsterdam Misc

• First and foremost, GET HEINEKENS OUT OF THE BROWN BOTTLE!

I don’t know if its that they save the good stuff for home, or if something happens to the beer when it travels overseas (or if the green bottle itself distorts the taste), but brown-bottle Heinekens don’t have the after-taste that green-bottle Heinekens have. It was so good that Kadija, who doesn’t have a taste for beer, was feenin’ for another. Matter fact, it was so good that we took a six-pack back to Frankfurt with us. Another piece of trivia: green bottle caps say “Heineken Bier” while brown bottle caps say “Heineken Pilsner.”

• If there are homeless people in Amsterdam, they don’t ask for money on the street. Yeah, there were street performers, but no one came up to us outright and asked for money.
• There are more bikes than cars (oftentimes, bikes even have their own lanes on the street)
  

(the red lane is for bikes only)

• There are ticket booths in the actual tram (sorry, no free rides here).

I can’t speak on the subways though, we never had the need to take one.

• “The Netherlands” and “Holland” are the same country.
• On some streets, trams in opposite directions share the same track and only have their own dedicated track at stops (those on the bridge over a canal).
  

H Street NE could learn a lil’ somethin’ somethin’.

• Stairs everywhere are SUPER steep.
• The ticket area at the Amsterdam Main Train station is like the DMV…100% serious. Going back to Frankfurt, Kadija and I wanted one of those 6-seat booths on the ICE (the high speed trains that run throughout Europe), so we went to the station to reserve one. Upon getting there, they gave us a ticket…our number was like a hundred numbers away. Still, thinking the numbers went super fast or skipped a bunch of numbers, we waited…it wasn’t happening. So we left, walked back to the hotel (all the while taking pictures), got our luggage, and took the tram back to the station…and we were still like 20 numbers away. Mind you, our trip to and from the station took well over an hour. To cap it off, when we finally went to the ticket counter, dude told us we could reserve one of those booths (for a price of course), but it probably wouldn’t be necessary as the train wasn’t that full.
• Everyone spoke legible English and was SUPER amiable. No one had a bad attitude or anything. I’m sure people would try to blame it on the usual suspects (i.e. their “lax” culture), but I really don’t feel that was the case. It was just a positive environment all around. Honestly, if I were to ever “retire” I would seriously consider making this the location.
• Walk-to-Wok – this is one of the “make-your-own-stir-fry” places I mentioned in the Amsterdam New Year’s blog. It was official…that’s all there is to it.
• Finally, they curse on commercials...
  

Matter fact…enjoy!

Cheers.

Whirlwind Weekend Round-Up (preview)

Cheers.

The Uno

For those of ya’ll still with me—yeah I know I’ve been off and on since December (and when I’m on I give ya’ll novel-length blog entries—I didn’t highlight the “Dr.” in front of Jonah’s name to be funny (see "Weekend at the Alps" if you don't NMTMBA...nmtmba?). In all seriousness, it was in admiration. I could talk about the qualifying examination he had to take going into his second year in the Ph.D. program at Stanford…but to make a long story short, it single handedly convinced me that I wasn’t gangsta enough.

Dude is doing the DAMN thang. Case in point, he pretty much was the source of the entire second half of this New York Times magazine article:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/28/magazine/28wwln-consumed-t.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=Uno%2C+Botta&st=nyt&oref=slogin

There’s a big newspaper/magazine/book shop in the Hauptbahnhof and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the only place where you can get the New York Times…even if it is a day late. Well, when he told me about the article back in October, I had to cop it…even if it was to the tune of 18 Euro (I’m not joking)...


A quote from the article (for those of ya’ll that are too lazy to click on the link and read)…

“Consider, for instance, the Uno, from Botta, the German watch brand. It has only one hand.”

Shortly after finishing the article, I looked up the watch online and fell in love (http://www.botta-design.de/en_uno_automatik.html). Not only was this watch different (as indicated in the article), but was designed to my liking and…it was a “German watch brand”. What better gift for myself to commemorate this overseas experience?! And it gets better…their headquarters are located just 20 mintues outside of Frankfurt. As far as I was concerned, it was a DONE-dadda. All that mattered from that point was logistics (i.e. how to get there).

I first made contact (via email) with the company in early November, and had kept in contact ever since. Well today, I finally had the car and a Friday where I had the opportunity to leave before 6pm (I was finished with all of my work and the normal 5pm Friday training session was cancelled). After a call to Klaus Botta’s cell letting him know I was on my way (yeah, I got it like that), I was on the Autobahn.

When I arrived at his design offices (not a store), he had the watches laid out for my viewing (and trying-on) pleasure. Oh yeah, the place was nice as well:


…replete with a Nespresso machine as well:


They both looked like what they looked like online:


…so the only question that remained was, white or black.

I probably contemplated this for about 30 minutes (seriously). He even left me alone to ponder (out loud) my decision.

In all truthfulness, I was immediately drawn to the black face, but the last two watches (prior to the Vizio I’m wearing now) had black faces and were reminiscent of this one (especially the big-faced Museum). The white face reminded me of the Vizio (which is a good thing in that its very clean), but it seemed like it was a bit boisterous without trying to be.

You know, actually typing this, I’m realizing this is one of those “you had to be there” type of things cause I’m sure this is very uninteresting to you all. All I can say is that I am a “watch-guy” and EVERY single one I’ve worn has gotten loads of compliments. So I took this decision very seriously (especially considering the cost and that I really would be stuck with my decision once I left).

And the winner…


Beautiful ain’t it? America ain’t ready.


Cheers.

Yesterday, It Happened...

Remember how I told you that the German subway system does not have turnstiles (meaning, you can easily get on the subway without having purchased a ticket)? Well, like a good little boy, for the months of November and December, I had purchased monthly Frankfurt subway tickets to the tune of around 70 Euro. After arriving back in Frankfurt for the new year, it wasn't until halfway through the month that I realized that I didn't have a ticket. And with my stay out here officially coming to an end 31 January, I didn't much see the need.

Well...I could get into how if I just happened to get off at my normal stop (Hoenstrasse) and not take the train one stop further (Borheim Mitte)--so that I wouldn't have to walk as far to the Thai spot from which I was getting dinner--then I would have gotten off the train right before the subway ticket-checkers approached me. Or how, if I wasn't so englufed in reading this report on the U.S. Housing Market by Wells Fargo, I would have noticed that the guy was approaching me and gotten off at my normal stop.

But it doesn't matter...


And for your information, telling them that you don't speak German or didn't know cause you're a tourist doesn't work. They speak English too. And get this, if you don't have the 40 Euro fine in cash on you, they walk with you to the nearest ATM. And if you can't get any money out from there, they call the authorities.

Luckily, I had enough money on me, and I paid the 40 Euro fine. But guess what, I'm still winning...you remember how much a monthly pass was?

Now all I have to do is be on guard for the remaining week I have out here.

Cheers.

Weekend at the Alps

The weekend started Friday morning (11 January) when the infamous J. Bizness (a.k.a. Dr. Jonah Berger) arrived to town.

After a quick detour to Berger Strasse (no pun intended) to stop by my place to drop off the clothes he didn’t need and get my bag, then to the bank to get money, we got in Geertje’s car (which I had picked up the night before) headed to work to pick up Thomas and we were off to Lenggries.

Thomas drove the whole way…and very fast mind you, but with good reason—we wanted to get to the place before 4:30pm (when the gondolas that takes you up to the top of the mountain closed). Furthermore, we had an additional detour to Munich so Thomas could get the stuff he needed, and Jonah and I also needed time once we got there to rent ski equipment (skis, boots and poles).

Anyways, during the drive, Jonah and I slept probably 5/6 of the way. But I still found time to take a couple pictures:


This is the world famous Allianz Arena. I say world famous because its shaped like a white nest and they can light up the outside different colors (red, white or blue I believe… seeing that these are the colors of the Bavarian soccor team that plays there) as they see fit.


These are the fields where they grow the plants from which their world famous Bavarian beers (like Augustiner Muenchen) is made.

Upon arriving in Munich, Thomas was quick to get his stuff and load the car. Of note, we met his girlfriend Micha (like Michael, without the “L”):


A little over an hour later, we got to Lenggries, Jonah and I rented our ski stuff, then Pascal, Geertje, Romana, Martin (not the head of valuation, another Martin that also works for the company) and Steffie arrived shortly thereafter. Then we all took the gondola up.

Now, one of the things that intrigued me about the trip (aside from it being in the Alps), was that we were going to be staying in a cabin located right on the mountain. However, before going up, I didn’t bother to ask where the cabin actually was, I sort of assumed it'd be right there by the gondola (or at most a short walk from there). Wrong! Come to find out, we had to walk (with skis, boots, poles and luggage, and all) about half a km…on the actual slopes, mind you, to the cabin. The walk sucked…but I’m not going to front though, it was beautiful up there:






The funny thing was that the cabin was at the bottom of a hill, so we had to either walk, ski, slide or fall to get down there.

After catching our breaths and getting settled into our rooms on the upper floor of the cabin, we all got beers…then shnapps…then dinner…then more shnapps…then I don’t remember. These were some of the pictures taken:







Jonah and I got to bed around 10 (we got there around 5:30-ish), but I heard some people stayed up till 3:30.

The next day we got up and had typical European breakfast (bread, cheese and salami) and were on the slopes by 10am. But first, I took some pictures...






I was skiing like a bamma for like the 1st two runs, but by the time the clouds arrived, I was somewhat getting back into the groove of things. I say “somewhat” because this ski trip made me realize a very painful truth…I am very out of shape. Aside from how out of breath I was from the walk to the cabin on Friday, I realized that I can’t attack the slope with the vehemence that I used to over 10 years ago (the last time I went skiing when I weighed less and did a lot more physical activities during the natural course of the week—like play tennis, basketball, rollerblade, etc.) I felt it most in my thighs. For those that are unfamiliar with proper ski-technique (like I’m about to explain this with any sort of professionalism), when going down the slope, you’re supposed to bend your knees (keeping them together) and use the edges of your skis (via your thighs) to “cut” into the slope from left to right to left to right, etc. (providing for the sort of “weaving” action you see skiers make as they go down the slope. Well, the steeper the slope, the more work your thighs have to put in to control your speed as you go down the slope (the steeper the slope, the faster you go down and the more you have to “cut” into the slope). So what I found was the steeper the slope, the more often I had to stop to give my thighs a rest and catch my breath. I absolutely have to get back into jogging.

Somehow, Jonah was able to comprehend the map and where we were at all times, so he was basically the leader for Romana and I (the three of us went out together while the others fragmented into their own groups).

(lift "tickets" are a thing of the past, its all digital now)

(shout to English Muffin)

Unfortunately at times that means you can end up here…


…where the about two feet of semi-packed snow is covered by a thin layer of ice so you have to crawl back up to the top of the run once you realize this may have not been one of the resort’s designated runs (lol). But naw, all jokes aside, Jonah was a good “Kimosabe” cause I damn sure didn’t know how to get to all the trails (which is surprising because I normally have an excellent sense of direction) and we got in a fair share of different runs before the slopes closed at 4:30.

Upon getting back (we were the first), we got a beer and shortly thereafter Pascal and Steffi arrived. Turns out, they skied the whole mountain (even the part where the gondola takes you up). They said in all, it’s 5 kilometers from the cabin to the very bottom…wow.

Truthfully, this night was no different than the other night except it was snowing outside and we played this game called “Sixes-out.”


Basically, everyone starts with 30 points (your score). You have 6 dice and then every roll you have to remove at least one die. The number on the die or dice is added until you've rolled all the dice. The goal is for your total, after all of your rolls, to be 30 or higher. If your number is 31 or higher, you get a bonus roll (with all 6 dice) and for every die that shows the number of the amount difference between your total and 30, you take those dice out until your roll doesn't show that amount again. Then that total gets counted against the score of next person's turn. Sounds confusing right? For example, if my total (at the end of my initial rolls) was 34, then I get a bonus roll (with all 6 dice) and for every '4' that shows up (the difference between my score (34) and 30) that counts against the next person's score. I then take all those fours out and roll again. I keep rolling til no fours show up. The goal is to be the last man (or woman) with points at the end.

After playing the game several rounds with Pascal and Thomas, Jonah and I got bored with the game and then tried to make up our own version called “American 3’s”, the rules of which we made up as we went along. It didn’t work. Anyways, we also played the game where you try to bounce a coin into the cup and both Jonah and I arm-wrestled Martin and his 2-meter, 2-centimeter tall self (do the math).


But given we were stuck in a cabin in the middle of Alps and we had nothing but each other, alcohol, music and each other to keep us company (and the games I said before), the night basically proceeded like this:

Sunday morning, we woke to fresh powder (it snowed the night before) and were anxious to get on the slopes before it was all gone. More early morning pics of the Alps...





But after breakfast, I found there was something else that concerned me. Thomas, Geertje and Pascal, eager to avoid the traffic that would no doubt swarm the roads more and more as the afternoon progressed, wanted to meet at the bottom of the slopes at 12:30 (it was around 10 at this point). Me, realizing I would probably never come back to Lenggries again in my life, wanted to spend considerably more time on the slopes that day. Thomas, Geerjte and I got into a bit of a tiff because at the time it seemed they were unwilling to compromise nor hear me out (I absolutely hate it when people cut me off…especially in situations like this). In the end it was all good and we compromised that Jonah and I just wouldn’t meet them for lunch (which is what they were planning to do after meeting at the bottom at 12:30) and would link up with them at 2pm.

Once back on the slopes, my style was progressively improving considerably as my body began to remember my impeccable ski-form from the yester-years. What also helped a lot was the fact that, unlike Saturday, it wasn’t snowing and, as the day progressed, the sun came out—thereby highlighting the terrain considerably more.


I wish I could have gotten even more runs in, but I was satisfied with those that we had done. So around 1pm we got back to the cabin and got our stuff. Now here was the tricky part, we had to ski back to the gondola with all of our luggage. I mean, if skiing without it (and the workout given to my thighs) wasn’t enough already, now I had to worry about the shifting of a considerable amount of weight from left to right to left to right each time I cut into the slope (given I didn’t have a backpack, but a bag with a single strap). But somehow I managed (Jonah was smart, he had a bag that had an extra strap that straps around your waist). Nevertheless, we made it to the bottom and returned our ski equipment with time to spare. And guess what…come 2pm, they weren’t even there. I wasn’t tripping cause Jonah, myself and Romana (who we saw at the bottom once we got there) were still hungry so we got something from this place called “Alte Mulistation” (go figure). They arrived sometime before 2:15 and we were out soon thereafter.


Cheers.