Monday, August 31, 2009

this isn't a dutch shot, this is dish soap

i was in the middle of trying to figure out my complicated european cell phone when suddenly three belgians swooped down on me and kissed me on both cheeks. seriously, this european custom of kissing faces as a greeting is a strange custom to me, coming from a culture where we stand about three metres apart and bow respectfully. it's also an open invitation for SWINE FLU, which i suspect i have now, because i woke up really sick this morning. i'm not sure whether to blame France, or Spain, or Germany, but i've caught the European cooties and I hold the EU responsible, because it has severely hampered my ability to enjoy the city.

i woke up on saturday morning to find the Dutch flag painted on my face. i think i had a good night on friday night - a big chunk of it is a little difficult to remember, possibly due to the fact that there was a lot of free Dutch shots going around. there was a borrel being held. i still don't know what a borrel is, but from my deductions, it seems to involve the core of dutch culture, and a lot of drinking. everyone was having a grand time - the spanish boys were teaching Mom I and Mom II how to dance, the French were taking advantage of the one Euro fifty alcohol, and i was strangely excited when Bryan Adams' song Summer of 69 came on, despite the fact that neither Bryan nor I experienced love in the summer of 1969 (he was ten, and when that song came out i was a one year old baby). go canadians.

we were still pretty tired by the time we headed to the big party of the week on Saturday night, held at the famous Hotel Arena. this is an huge, old church that has been converted into a club. it is very, very strange to be dancing to trance music with a beer in your hand and to look up at the ceiling and see what appears to be frescos, with disco lights drilled through them. i left the club just before 4AM, but it was still packed when i left. the EU sure like to party - and pass out cooties.

okay, i'm just going to go crawl into a cave and hope these european cooties go away in time for my trip to Ikea tomorrow.