Training for Disappointment

I am on the train, again, on my way back from Amsterdam. I had an amazing weekend, and I really don’t want to start work again tomorrow.

Showing up in Amsterdam was just as I imagined it, times ten. It was the biggest drinking holiday of the year, and as soon as I got off the train I was surrounded by drunks in bright orange. Even the cops were trashed; I asked one where to get a taxi and he told me that there are none. Eventually I found a driver who almost killed a few dozen people getting me to T’s, and over-charged me pretty drastically.

T’s room is palacial. His closet is the size of my room in Paris, and there’s a kitchen in it. This really doesn’t seem fair, and makes me even less happy to go back to the foyer. I got the day off recently and in late morning the fire alarm went off. About half the residents were still in the building. This in combination with the free presentations from government officials entitled “You CAN Get A Job!” made me realize that I’m living in, basically, the projects. Which is fine, I guess.

I rented a bike in Amsterdam. I’ve had bike envy for the past couple of weeks, so it was really good to get that out of my system. The shop I rented from was (bizarrely) called MacBike. I think I got a lot better at locking up my bike and riding my bike during the weekend, which probably had a positive effect on my self-esteem.

T and I did three museums: the contemporary art museum, the Van Gogh, and the Dutch Golden Age museum. The contemporary one was a mix of really cool and the kind of work that makes people say they hate modern art. Usually, when people say this they mean to say “contemporary”. Modern is the earlier part of the 20th century…Sometimes if I’m feeling like being difficult, I say something to these people like “I actually really like Picasso!” That gets them every time.

J and her friend came down from Maastricht, so we all four took a walk around the city and the red light district. I saw some prostitutes; there’s a pretty wide range of body types to choose from. Good to know that you don't have to be perfect to be a prostitute.