...in Amsterdam, that is.
Monty and I made it here yesterday after a horrible night in Hamburg. Don't go there, seriously. We accidentally booked a hostel in Europe's largest Red Light district, which could have been interesting (you know, from a sociological perspective), but turned out simply sleezy. Plus I'm pretty sure our hotel was for sex tourists.
But! All is well because we are in the beautiful Netherlands. Canals and marijuana galore. So far in Amsterdam we have discovered a delicious Belgian beer; bought a pot of pretty yellow flowers, which we promptly named Bruno; visited a lame photography museum; got lost on bikes trying to find a grocery store -- turned out to be the pretties bike ride anyway; and legally smoked pot on a sidewalk. Plus we're staying at something of a campground, in something of a trailer, which only adds to the charm.
Paris in a few days! And will definitely be returning Stateside at the beginning of August, so maybe I can see some of you then? I heart you guys.
Ps. Do you all think it's a little strange how sad people seem to be about Michael Jackson? I do. I mean, Thriller was great, and the man could dance, but he was also freakishly weird.
I am sad!! I wanted to see how his face developed (growing old and plastic surgery combined) over the next 40 years. Now I'll never know.
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