Day 10, Amsterdam: Have You Tried The Hawaiian Haze?, or, Time to Move On

Amsterdam is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here. There's nothing but stoners and whores and bikes and phony coke dealers in this town. Not that there's anything wrong with any of those things.

Amsterdam: a bike-friendly town.

A random Amsterdam weirdo for your viewing pleasure (and yes, that's the baby from Dinosaurs singing backup.)

I mean, I'm all for having a good time, but having lengthy, circular conversations about weed and mushrooms with a bunch of self-proclaimed drug connoisseurs is not really my idea of fun.

I get it, you like to get high, and it's hella sweet that you can buy weed anywhere here, but come on, guy. You really have nothing to talk about other than how the purple haze is a total head high but the G13 is more of an all-over body high?

I guess I'm just getting old.

"Um... I'll just have some Coke. No, wait, that came out wrong!"

An entire family of American yokels from ol' Virginny infested my hostel room this morning, and that certainly isn't helping. They sit in the room and watch TV all day. Bad TV, too, like "King of Queens" and "According to Jim."

So, I'm off to Berlin in hopes of feeling young again.

Ciao for now.

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