The Whisking

Once upon a time AH made the mistake of telling me about his co-worker who whisked his girlfriend away to Paris so that he could propose.  She thought that he was driving her to work, but instead he took her to the airport with a suitcase that her mom had packed and off to the magical land of cheese and wine they went.  And I have not let AH forget this story, much to his chagrin.  So for my 25th birthday, this is what I requested of AH: a good, healthy whisking.  How does one define whisking (I know you're musing to yourself, possibly while stroking your chin thoughtfully)?  It's being swept from your mundane existence off to somewhere romantic and full of adventure by a dashing lover-type.  Being that I am the bossypants in our marriage, and I tend to initiate all planning, I decided that I would settle for "going on a trip that I didn't have to make decisions about." And that is how we found ourselves in Amsterdam.

To answer your next question, no, we did not toke up nor hire a hooker (Although AH and I saw one in a window.  Unless that was just some nice lady who likes to hang out in her window dancing seductively about in a negligee- I don't know her life).  But I did find plenty of other things to keep me entertained:

Our accommodations, for starters.  I have never felt more like a Dutch banker's mistress than I did swanning (a verb cousin to whisking) about that B&B.

Strolling around the beautiful Vondelpark, right next to our B&B. 

I also took many, many pictures of pretty buildings on canals during our brief intervals of good weather.

And gables.  I really liked the gables.

Which is worse, I wonder: semi-sanctioned peeing in various gutters and corners, or attempting to concentrate the public urination into a city square?

Our room at the B&B contained a bunch of classical CDs and this lovely offering.  Guess which one AH and I had a dance party to Friday night?

We spent Saturday morning at the Van Gogh museum.  A truly moving and beautiful experience, it was undoubtedly the highlight of the trip.  And now I know that it's pronounced "Van Gagh" (with a good loogie-hocking sound on the end there), not "Van Go".

Then a great deluge was upon us!  That was fun.

Our wet and soggy canal tour did bring our attention to this establishment which has the honor of being the  largest floating Chinese restaurant in Europe.  Oddly specific, yes, and now AH and I have a new retirement dream: to open an EVEN LARGER (and possibly even more buoyant) Chinese restaurant somewhere on the continent of Europe.  THE GLORY, IT SHALL BE MINE!

AH and I spent Sunday morning at the Heineken Experience.  Housed in the former Heineken brewery, it now serves as one long, kind of expensive Heineken commercial (those pods you see actually show vintage Heineken commercials on the ceilings).  It was pretty slick, though, and by the end AH and I were really looking forward to our two free beers and the privilege of paying homage to our Benevolent Heineken Overlords.

Unfortunately, as our guidebook tactfully stated, "The Dutch are not known for their cuisine." Luckily they do know how to put bacon, cheese and onions on a carb-like substance and stick it in the oven, so the famous Pancake Bakery, at least, was worth the wait.

And the very last thing we stumbled upon before getting on the train back to Paris: footballers playing sand football in the middle of a public square to the sounds of enthusiastic Dutch commentators and thumping Spanish techno.  Sometimes I have to sit back and wonder, how is this my life?

So all in all, a very successful whisking.  Which gives me until AH's birthday in January to figure out how to top it.  I think we'll be taking a pilgrimage to find the largest Indonesian restaurant on wheels.  Wish us luck.