all about chemistry

Come on, oh my star is fading

Amsterdam, it must be said, is a beautiful city, even despite its reputation for being far too much fun for those inclined in the more bohemian aspects of fun-having. Canals run through much of the central portion of this historical port city, and one still sees the effects upon architecture that the merchant trade required. All along the canal routes, there still hang hooks from posts jutting out from the crests of the angled roofs, artifacts (I would assume) of a necessity for raising goods up the facade of the building, for there was certainly no open vertical space within; most of these individual buildings, although most abut directly to the next, are only wide enough to afford three closely packed windows. Many buildings also lean at angles uncommon in normal, modern, and/or safe construction. A historical ghetto lean...

Now that I am finished with expatiating in the style of a Frommers guide, let us get to the pictures, shall we?

The train workers union in the Netherlands, including those that perform track maintenance and switching tasks, walked off the job for a single day on friday to protest a refusal of a wage hike by their employers. As a result, no train outside of local streetcars and metro lines moved, at all, anywhere in the country. This being terribly detrimental to the ability of Americans working as interns in Germany to get to the city of Amsterdam, we met in Oberhausen, a city mere miles short of the border, so that we could use a car for the trip through the Netherlander countryside. The car was supplied from the fleet maintained by the employers of one Michelle, and she, being as resourceful as she is pretty, was able even to get one with an automatic transmission. Also occupying the car was the boy Michael, who is as loquacious as he is interested in herring, and Morgan, who is indeed also as attractive as she is interested in things that are not herring. No matter.

Mike, saturday morning, walking through the flower market.



By chance, we happened to find that we, and the World Press Photo 2005 exhibition, were both in Oudekerk church at the same time. Coincidence? I think not. Pictures of the church were taken, because taking pictures of pictures, while possibly very deep in some metaporical or poetic way, seems silly to me.







Nice organ. (tee hee)

No, but seriously. And shame on the Calvinists that painted over the original mural work, almost none of which remains.

Anyways. Lunch is taken at a pleasant canalside cafe, with little to no regard for what the sun is indeed doing to our collective skins.





Michael's friend is a girlfriend of a coworker, who gives him a pass to get into museums for free; he just has to act French to do so. The following is honestly the best part about Europe.



Food, glorious food.

Other such things are enjoyed. The Van Gogh museum is very nice, I must also note, although obviously no photography is allowed inside. Photography is, however, allowed outside at a fountain, and of course is required when soft-serve (even lackluster versions thereof) is also present.





Doodle opened fart?

On that topic, allow me to say something regarding the Dutch language. It is utterly, and without argument, hilarious to read and even funnier to listen to. No such amount of sequential vowels should ever be allowed in any reasonable language, a distiction I am now defining as "anything not Dutch". It is obviously the language of a nation smashed in between France, Germany, and England, and it should, however, be taken as a sign of the resourcefulness and flexibility of its inhabitants that they have been able to live there, happily, for so long while this army or that army or this or that navy rolls on by and/or through.

A pleasant city, enjoyable, it turns out, for even the more square of us.



The boy in the fountain says hi.

The rest of the pictures can be found here.

As always, do enjoy.

BHK

posted by Ben @ 12:23 PM