Well, that was fun! Holland is home to some of the most beautiful people in the world. Flat out beautiful. L.A.'s got nothing on em'. We played a little joint in a town I cannot pronounce at the moment but cherry beer will do that to anyone. The load in looked to be the worst on planet earth, however, leave it to the Dutch to figure out how to rig up a collapsible elevator thingie to move heavy things up and down stairs. I got to push the button. It made me giggle. The bar was an "English bar", lots of hunting prints and dead animals etched in glass (brace of pheasant, etc., etc.) with a sparkling, shiny circular bar. Polished brass and candy dishes and books behind glass. Needless to say our scruffy bunch felt mildly out of place, but after 9 courses of various chinoise deliciousness at the restaurant upstairs, the bar filled up and we slipped in and felt right at home.
The drinking age is 16 here. I love that. Kids learn how to drink before they learn how to drive and that is brilliant. It takes longer to learn how to drink. The drug laws are also more, hem, liberal, in Holland but I was talking to a tall (very good looking cause he's Dutch) fellow about that and he said "Americans come to Holland and smoke pot, but we can smoke pot always so it isn't a big deal. You smoke a joint or two when you're young. No big deal." Apparently, it isn't a "big deal". Legislating mutherscratching everything is silly. Have I mentioned that none of the playground equipment is made of nerf either? Get up and rub some dirt in it, dank u!
We will attempt to get up early tomorrow and ride the bus into Turnhout to the market in the square. Then we will go to the kaaswinkel and I will be in heaven.
Tomorrow night, the double d ranch. Lawsy help us. There may be ponies and I may be forced to ride them. Goedenact, ya'll.
xoxox Miss A.