Orange T-shirt day
We needed food. We had arranged to meet up at the Brouwerij ‘t IJ at opening time, 15.00. En route to Belgique we came across the Moti Mahal where the best Curry of the trip, by far, was consumed. With Robin once again leading the way, we ended up at The Dam. Belgique was close by, faded memories of what Robin was looking for began to materialise in Hector’s mind. Moments later we were sitting in Belgique supping La Chouffe. Well it is a Belgian pub.
The Camera Eye
This was to be another day without photos. The Curry House was the last photo of the day. My chip had reached 9999, the camera needed reformatted, to do so would wipe everything. Jonathan caught up with us, he concurred.
Brother Peter had sent texts telling us how to get t’ t’ IJ. Did he think Robin did not know how to get to his favourite Dutch Brewery? We found the bus, but from a new location, apparently. The driver refused our fare. The orange uniform had clearly impressed. Indeed, he tooted and waved to us as he drove past later in the day.
Hector h
ad the Wit Bier and then had water for the rest of the afternoon. Something was not right.
Dr Stan, sitting at the end of the table with The Brothers had his afternoon catnap. Rivetting.
I fancied a walk to clear the lungs and get the body functioning again. Dr Stan is always good for a leg stretch. He opted for the tram. Is this a Dr Stan impersonator? Has our Dr Stan been kidnapped by Aliens? The Brothers were waiting for us at the Beer Tempel. The Flying Dog – Raging Bitch was the solitary sample. Time to move on, just the two of us. The Brothers were not seen again.
Arendsnest was only a few minutes walk, Amsterdam was now making sense to Hector. I have been coming to this city since I was eight years old. Visits as an adult have been sporadic. I should know my way around the centre, I now do, again.
The Anne Franke House
Why did it take the Germans so long to find it? The House is signposted everywhere!
More La Chouffe and the Templier Blond were ordered. The service was slow, really slow. What did the Doris think we were ding sitting at a table with no drinks infront of us? We had not brought a picnic.
The short hop to Belgique resulted in a shock. This tiny bar had ashtrays everywhere. Everyone was smoking inside. WTF? I ordered two Kwak, we sat on the bench in the lane supping our favourite Bier in the fresh air. The passers by looked on in amusement at out chemistry lab style glass and stand. We didn’t care, even though having secured the end of the barrel the Bier was decidedly cloudy. We planned the summer of 2013.
We rejoined the others at In de Wildeman. It was nearing Craig’s bedtime. A large Belgium IPA is what I got, it was not what I wanted. The Flying Dog had moved up the board, I had ordered by yesterday’s number. This was soon put righta and the night was polished off with another bottle of Schlenkerla Marzen. Now I had tasted this on draught at this pub when I was here with Marg some years back.