I woke up at 6am, having little desire to move I laid in bed comfortably until 7:15, when I heard Oma's voice calling from down stairs, "Danny! It's 7:15!" I had told her I'd be awake at 7, to her that meant I'd be fully mobilized at 7 ready to go. She was very generous waiting the extra 15 minutes before calling up to me, usually it's within 15 seconds of the appointed time. Germans are so exacting.At any rate, I pulled myself out of bed and took a shower. I didn't really feel like one, but seeing as how were going to be sitting in one place on a bus for 10 or so hours its better to be clean than squirming in your own filth. After all this time in Germany I haven't once gone to the bakery for some pretzels, this will change today, and luckily so, because it saves our butts for the first leg of the journey. Dani comes to take us to the train station and we hug Oma and wish her well before leaving. The trains in Germany are well known for being on time, this morning was not one of those times. It was 10 minutes late, and even after 1 minute I could sense the general panic and searching, wondering gazes of my fellow Germans at the station. At 5 minutes passed the expected arrival of our train it seemed that the level of cigarette smoking had nearly tripled, and eyes were glued at the bend in the tracks, searching for the lights that would restore their faith in order and civilization. At 8 minutes passed cigarette smoke had replaced the fresh air completely and even I thought we'd miss the bus. luckily though, the lights turned the bend and we were shortly on board. Not long after that we found our bus bound for Vienna and got the best seats, those at the very front, with a panoramic view and no one to recline on us, which is a real pain for tall people like Zane and I. Zane was playing hungry shark evolution on his phone, he let me play, I broke his high score twice then he took back his phone and doubled my high score. Nothing like a little competition to get your game up! I Was getting really sleepy but resisted the urge, I really hate "sleeping" on buses. It's not really sleep, it's like being drugged. Drinking water really helped, luckily I got a big bottle of it at Karlsruhe station. Once we arrived in Munich we found a Kebab place in the station and ate there. Zane was contemplating McDonalds not 15 feet away over the Kebab place because he was afraid if getting sick, I talked him out of it, but he still ended up feeling sick after. Im still glad he chose the kebab, it was the better choice. I read Worldbridger for the majority of our trip from Munich to Vienna, saving the last chapter for later because I was tired, which was fine because the overhead reading lights were turned off soon after and we arrived in Vienna's main bus and train station at around 10:30pm. We couldn't find Zuzka anywhere for some time, she was supposed to meet us right where the bus dropped us off. Luckily Zane was able to pick up some wifi and contact her. She was lost somewhere in the city and would take time to get to us. We both had to pee, all the businesses were closed and the bathrooms at the station were locked, so we walked into the park adjacent the station and made use of the fine trees growing there. Zuzka finally found us and we sped off down the highway, away from the city of Vienna, which I've never visited except for this one time, and actually have no idea what its like in the day, or really in the night for that matter. But one day I will, maybe...As we headed for Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia, we passed a large farm of wind turbines. You could see their outlines in the night sky for miles. Each with large red flashing beacon lights perched above them, like flares pulsating in the night. It was a beautiful sight. Especially since we blazed up for the first time since Amsterdam and I was high as a kite. Listening to Zuzka and Zane talk in their special way, a love hate relationship incarnate, I zoned out and spun away with each turn of the many massive blades spinning endlessly beside us. For some time I slept, and awoke when the bright lights of Bratislava hit my face. Once in the city we got beers, cookies and rice milk then parked the car on the sidewalk because all the parking spaces were used up. I don't like to meet people for the first time while high, actually I prefer to be alone or with great friends, but Zuzkas mom was very friendly, open and excited to have us over. Despite my paranoiac state It was very chill. She had prepared rice and chicken for us to eat as well.I had some of the rice with sauerkraut but was happily surprised when she offered me musli and coconut milk as well, which apparently she had bought just for me. I even splurged a bit and used the coconut milk to dip the two chocolate chip cookies with that Zane gave me. Zane and I each had a Liter of Czech beer that was already at the house, everyone went to sleep and I easily fell away into a deep dreaming state on the couch.
Thanks to Masala
In the morning the ladies make a super big breakfast, but all I can eat is the sliced apples and orange juice. Meanwhile Tal and Peter ravage through the bread, cheese, eggs, meat and butter like starved wolves in a chicken coop. After the slaughter we join the Israelis on a journey through the city. They are on their own mission, I just wanted food and water, so we eventually split up. We may be in the capital city, but that doesn't matter, it's Sunday and this is still Germany, and that means that almost everything is closed. So we walked for what seemed like hours, looking for food and water. Eventually I really slowed down, Zane was always at least 15-20 feet ahead of me, which isn't unusual considering his super long legs and quick speed, but this was ridiculous. It was cold too, and eventually Zane and I made the call to return home. Paying a premium for a little bottle of water in the train station, which Im still happy for regardless.By the time we get back to Annika's I have enough bloating and pain in my stomach to know I'm in for a long couple days running back and forth to the throne room, and I'm pretty damn sure it has everything to do with that sweet and sour slop I ate at Masala, the Indian joint yelp thought so highly of.From dusk till dawn I'm squirting Masala like nobody's business. Getting up so often that at one point I decide to just stand over the sink drinking water to continue the next volley thats sure to come. By morning I'm a zombie, wrecked on so many levels its sad. I need food so bad at this point that I leave the house before anyone is awake and go to the market. I slam my finger in the door jam on the way out, a blood blister from the start, just great.. At the super market I get apples, mixed salads that came with their root ball in the bag, very interesting, and an avocado.I eat alone until Annika comes in the kitchen and makes a few cups of coffee, both of which she drinks to her face before she can muster anything more than "hey"... Apparently she's not a morning person, and today, neither am I. At first Annika was going to meet us somewhere in the city, but this was not going to happen, I knew that much. Fortunately for us she quickly finished what she had to do and we all take the bus to a Russian war memorial in Treptower park on the outskirts of town. The place is a graveyard for 80,0000 Russian soldiers who died taking Berlin, its a fairly large rectangle lined with massive iron gates, emblemed with the classic communist star. The entrance is flanked on either side by huge statues of Russian soldiers baring arms and heavy winter coats, while the sides are unmarked graves lined with depictions of the communist struggle against fascism, all of which leads up to the biggest statue of them all at the back. This statue is of a burly russian commander crushing the nazi swastika under his boots, which towers above the pavilion on a mound. Under which lies a little gated room filled with mosaics. I believe it was the only marked grave there. But I can't be sure, since there was no writing I could understand. Next Annika took us to a Mexican restaurant which I only used for the throne, while Zane had a chicken casadia and a beer. From there Annika brought us to the city gate and left us to take her English exam. We wanted to enter the Reichstag, an impressive parliament building erected after the war to commemorate those in office who were slaughtered by Hitlers men for opposing them, but the next available tickets were for the night time, several hours away and we didn't go for it. Instead we head to check point Charlie, the most famous checkpoint between East and West Germany during the cold war, where so many people were shot and killed trying to escape from the Communist regime, including dozens of West Germans who were aiding them in their escape. Its a pretty interesting place. There were actors there in uniform posing for the tourists. By the time we get home Im a gas bomb ready to blow, and I do, just as I sit down on the throne. It was like having several balloons in my body all releasing at different times, the human body really is an amazing thing... Im so exhausted and weak that when Zane talks about going out to the club I half laugh out loud, but mostly cry a little to myself at the thought of actually attempting it. Luckily for me Annika returns from her test and nurses me back to health. She gives me some black Chinese medicine balls, much like those I had in India during our Sk-23 adventure, only those were white. Then she puts a hot water bag on my belly because I'm shivering and feeds me those little pre toasted pieces of bread that my German Grandma (Oma) used to dip in her coffee, only I dip it in peppermint tea, since I don't drink caffeine. I've got to eat something to fill the gaps that are now expanding exponentially inside me, and this fits the bill nicely since I can hardly stand the sight of food right now. I pass out in Annika's room for a power nap, wake up to a bowl of mushed bananas which I slam down. Pack my bags for our bus to Oma's tomorrow and now Zane is leaving with Annika to the clubs, which although was the impetus for our trip to Berlin, I have absolutely no intention of going to, thanks to Masala..
Last Night In Amsterdam
I got up early and had two apples in the cafeteria alone. Zane was still asleep, I knew there would be nothing for me there, but still, I just wanted to eat in the same space as the other people there. As much of a lone wolf I seem to be at times, Im really much more of a social animal than I admit to be, even to myself. A reality most lone wolves probably share. When Zane woke up we left for the city center to have brunch, Zane didn't feel like a salad, so Venkel was out, which meant we'd have to discover something new. After walking about aimlessly in our usual way through the city center I chose a place that in the end, was way too expensive and low quality in both portion and taste for the price. Kinda bummed at the whole affair we returned to WoW and after a short rest headed back out at around 6ish for our last night out in Amsterdam. We had our first two pints each at the same place we played pool last night. We played four games together, Zane won the first game easily, I beat myself the next two games by calling the wrong hole for the 8 ball, but won the final game. Just as the night before, after playing a few games of pool the establishment told us the table was closed. Then when we left and swung around later the table was open again for other players... Was it just us? Or do they do that for everybody all the time just to keep the competitive nature in people down to a minimum? I couldn't say. Whatever the case may be, Zane was sure it was because of his pool playing prowess and they couldn't have unbeatable players ruling the table.Since we were now fairly inebriated, the next thing to do was to smoke, this time it was my idea, so I got to choose the place. Remembering a sweet little shop we entered before but left for lack of a bong, I decided to go there. On our way, as we were crossing a small bridge ,we saw a man flailing on the ground, twisting and reaching for things round him. He seemed to be alone but I couldn't really say. He wouldn't be for long, because a moment later several security personnel appeared and held him down. He screamed and continued to shout in panic as they then dragged him away behind an ambulance. From the looks of him, he was most probably on a strong psychedelic, mixed with all the usual suspects, tobacco and alcohol. Which in a major city environment such as Amsterdam spells disaster for almost anyone not well versed in the trans-dimensional arts. Inside this little shop I bought a gram of something and rolled it up into a pure joint. We went up to the upper level and sat by the window, watching as that poor guy was being sedated by a gang of strangers sent to take him away. It wasn't long before the shop would close, in fact we had to power smoke the joint just to beat their closing, which was fine by us. I still had some unrolled marijuana left, but I didn't care to smoke it in the morning, so I just ate it plain, which is actually not all that uncommon for me, it doesn't get you nearly as high, but its far better for you than smoking it.We went into a few more bars after that, including the karaoke bar we met the Belgian girls, which was now full of 50 high school German kids, so we didn't stick around. Then Zane convinced me to go to a live sex show, but I instantly regretted it before we got inside and backed out the last second. Instead we decided on a topless bar, which cost 5 Euros to get into for the night, instead of 2 Euros a minute for the sex show. We get into this place and its all run by ladies, topless ladies, there isn't a single lady there with a top on, so it's well and truly a topless bar. Everywhere you looked there was a seductress of one flavor or another waiting for the smallest excuse to run up to a guy and trap him in a lap dance, or better yet there was a bleach blond white girl at the bar who would fling her legs around your unsuspecting head and work her thighs as she held onto a metal bar above the catwalk. That was my first impression. My second impression came down on me like the sword of Damocles, in the form of a huge black woman dancing in dangerously sharp heels on the bar. She flew down from the walkway that her and the other girls were dancing on and then she went looking wildly at each man before her with her piercing gaze. Finally she came to me and grabbed my shirt pulling me to her, I immediately threw my hands up and made every effort to indicate I had no money to pay her for the service, luckily she saw this to be true and moved on to a well dressed white man in his 60's, he tried the same technique but she wasn't buying it and he literally had to run away from her, not once but three times! At this she jumped back on the bar and tore off her underwear and went harder than ever on the pole. Three other men rejected her in the same way as she attempted then to reel them in. But I'm sure that a man befitting her caliber would be around sooner or later.by huge I mean she easily had 70 pounds of pure muscle on me and could probably pop my head open like a rotten melon between her thighs. This is not to say she was unattractive, she was simply too much woman for me or anyone there apparently to handle. Zane spent €37 on two gin and tonics that glowed in the bar light, which made is both broke for the night, so we left as soon as they were empty. We were pretty smashed when we left, I don't think we even knew where we were going. We were following behind a group of girls when suddenly and without the slightest warning one of them smashed her head into a stores plate glass window at full force. Luckily Zane and I were just in time to grab her limp body and help her down. Instantly every one of her friends disappeared, leaving just us and this poor girl who had just knocked herself out cold. She came to in a few seconds and we explained what happened to her, she seemed to understand so we helped her up, then just as soon as she seemed to be all together her eyes roll back in her head and she begins to spasm out, this time falling to the floor so quickly he couldn't catch her. This is when her friend comes back with the police. "Do you know this girl? What happened?" They say cooly, with complete detachment, obviously having seen this same thing hundreds of times before. 
Zane tells them "We were behind her when she just hit her head, we don't know her," and then I show them the mark she left on the window. Before we leave Zane gets a one on one with the girls friend and tells her that she really needs to watch her, she could really hurt herself. We leave the seen content with our part in the story and make it to the night bus, getting home by 2am, and so concludes our first trip to Amsterdam!
Rules of the Game
This morning we went down to the kitchen for our complimentary breakfast. We had never been even remotely early enough for it before today so we figured it was time to check it out. There were lunch meats, white bread, jam, and cereals. Zane chose cereal and I sat comfortably watching our hostel friends serve the other guests. Zane finished eating, We wrapped up and headed out. Since there wasn't anything for me at Wow, we returned again to Venkel and ordered up unique salad creations. Now that was a breakfast! While we were in the city we went back to the same coffee shop as before and Zane got some cheese, a strain of Marijuana that stinks like cheese lol, he smoked while I wrote post cards to some people back home. We were surrounded on all sides by British people with super heavy slanged accents, everyone of them ordered a ham and cheese toasty, which is exactly what it sounds like, and they talked across the room to each other in such loud, thickly accentuated accents that it was priceless to be in the middle of. After a short snooze back at the hostel we were once again back in the red light district, going from one bar and ordering only one beer before moving on to the next. We came to this one place with a pool table, with probably 30 people there. While waiting to get a game in on the pool table, one of the girls already playing, it was couple vs couple, came over to us and asked us if we were twins. "Brothers" we say in unison. "Ohh, thats just fantastic" she says "what are you doing here alone?" Referring to the bar. "Were waiting to play pool." At this she snaps her neck around to her friends and quickly organizes an already finished game to its now official end. She then sets up a joint venture between all three groups, a 2v2. Zane and the other teams man, vs me and this girls boyfriend. They tell us that they're here in Amsterdam from London on a 3 day vacation from their busy lives back home. Her boyfriend tells us he's a surfing champion and an avid sportsman, while she works at a job she rather wouldn't and is looking for an exit. While were talking she scribbles on two bar notes a rendition of both Zane and myself. Zane didn't keep his but I did.Her boyfriend and I do pretty bad in the beginning of the game but I pull off a great run to the 8 ball in the end. I'm about to finish the game and then the girl takes the stick from me and demands the last shot. Now normally this would constitute a deal breaker and game ender anyways, since No one agreed to it or desired it, but I didn't verbalize it, so it slid. She then hits the white ball straight passed the 8 ball and into the hole thereby loosing the game for us, throwing the stick down on the table and arguing that such a move doesn't qualify a loss where she comes from, she slams her drink and hugs her boyfriend. With that she and her friends move outside to join the rest of their group. Zane and I play a few games between ourselves and the establishment tells us that the pool table is now closed. It was like 9pm and plenty of people around wanting to play pool so we thought this was really strange but hey, we followed the rules. We drank our beers and I made the call to join our new friends outside. There we are introduced to a new a couple, these from Ireland. All was well until I had to go pushing buttons I knew very well led to deeply rooted passions. You see, its never good enough to just have any conversation, ohh no, Danny needs there to be passion, Danny needs to force people to care so much they want to scream, and often do... Especially drunk Danny, he see's a rift in someone and for him there's only one thing to do, expose it! Tear it open and make that person recognize it's existence and how much its affecting them. We all have these rifts, and deal with them in our own way, but drunk Danny thinks he can and should help you with them. Drunk Danny is very lucky he hasn't been hurt by people he's trying to help by making them unstable... His friends remind him of this often.Anyways, back to our story. I ask him if Ireland is in anyway considered apart of Great Britain and his eyes light up like someone just kicked him in the balls but missed the mark and he's pumped for the counter attack, this is the beginning of an hour and a half thyraid into the uniqueness of Ireland and its supreme place in the world as a beacon of independence and sovereignty against imperial rule. His girlfriend and Zane were sitting next to us but they might as well have been in a different dimension, this guy had seen red and was completely transfixed on our conversation, or should I say, his argument. After realizing he was in no way capable of allowing any of my words to even escape my lips we parted ways gracefully as Zane and I entered another bar as they walked on. The place we entered was a karaoke bar, filled to the brim with young people from all over Europe. Before we even got inside we were helping the bar staff carry a waisted girl outside. This sparked a meeting between us and these young Belgian girls about life and everything they hope yo do with it. We very quickly went into life's great mysteries and uncertainties, and then, after going into the bar and getting this girls friend two glasses of water, she comes to and goes into the bar, again getting kicked out by the staff. Then they just disappear on us. Naturally we missed the last normal bus home so we endeavored to finally find these rumored night buses. After running around the empty train station we came to the bus station above it in the back. After sitting there in the freezing cold for an hour, waiting for any bus that would take us home, Zane told me that if a bus didn't arrive soon he was taking a taxi. "Just 10 more minutes I said, it will be here."Just as I said this two random guys from who knows which area of the world showed up asking us were to find the night bus to Bos en lommerweg, and just as they asked us our bus drove by on the other side of the divide, we all sprinted after it in unison. It stopped, the driver was unresponsive inside and I knew he was on his break before starting up again. So I sat down and relaxed while person after person bothered him on his break. 15 minutes later the bus turned around and we had to run all the way to end of the causeway, something like a football field and a half. We got on and made it home by 3am, those guys who asked us about the bus are staying at wow as well. Small world.
The Roommate
Since arriving at our hostel we have enjoyed the beds and the rooms, the staff and the price to stay here, but one thing sticks out as the prime example of a bad hostel experience, and that is a terrible roommate. This guy was a virus. First and foremost he's an obsessive compulsive liar, and egotist. He never left the room and was always watching Italian soap operas or listening to Italian screeching hate music at full volume for all to be subjected too. The first time I met him was when he was in the shower with the water on for 45 minutes, that I knew off, while I was waiting to use it. We only had one shower and one toilet for a 12 person room so you can imagine the rudeness of this. I knocked and asked him when he'd be done and he told me he was washing, I told him I already knew that, when would he finish? He told me 5 minutes and took another 20. He got out and turned to tell me something I wasn't interested in hearing and I got in, finishing in about 8 minutes total. Not my usual time of 12 but I did it to make a point for our friend, whom I imagine didn't notice, even in the slightest. The next incident he was in the toilet for 40 minutes, I knocked and he cursed at me in Italian. Telling me to wait 5 minutes, after 10 I knocked again, "Can I go to the bathroom now? 11 minutes again "Can I go to the bathroom now?" Wait! And again, "Can I go to the bathroom now?" OK Ok! Che casso?! Another Italian came over and told me he was smoking in the toilet, which is immediate grounds for being kicked out of the hostel. He came out and after talking to the other Italian he rushed over to me to explain how he wasn't smoking, how he had intestinal problems for a long time now and it was hard for him to go to the bathroom. A cunning deception but irrelevant, or patently false take your pick. He always went in the bathroom with his backpack which we saw him keep his bong in, and it always reeked of drugs covered up by the bathroom disinfectant spray when he came out. "I don't care that your smoking in there I told him, I want to be able to use the bathroom, if you have intestinal issues change your diet, I had the problems before as well, now they're all gone." He asked me how long Ive been on my diet and I told him 4 months, he was shocked at this, and walked away. From this period on he always smoked the bong at the window in plain sight, with the shower and the toilet free from his clutches. Everyone in the dorm room told us flatly that they couldn't believe his behavior, even before we had met or said a single word to each other, the first response was inevitably, "what an asshole." Only then did we get to know each other, funny how strangers come together isn't it. The best part was when he realized how fucked he was when some conservative young girls from somewhere walked in as our new roommates and there was no one on his side even remotely. He then proceeded to sulk over to me in a perfect slinky fashion that looked like it belonged in an early 1990's Saturday night live skit, which he hid with what he thought was no doubt sincere confessional grace. "My friend, I am a good man, I think of everyone, before myself, you know?" If I wasn't so extremely interested in his current line of thinking I would have exercised extreme prejudice and destroyed him then and there myself, but alas my interest was peeked, and I didn't interrupt. "I come here to have good time and make friends, just want peace, you know?" I put my hand on his shoulder and nodded my head, and in that nodding head I was thinking "ohh yes, I know. I know how exactly.. Just how twisted you are right now, how no matter who or what you thought you were, the drugs got ahold of the show now." Then, with my voice I told him that I did understand and it was all good, which was all true. Hugged him and smiled. To this he seemed as though a great weight had been lifted. Another friend in his vacant lot of garbage and dirty clothes piled in the corner. Zane and I walked out of the room and a day later he was no longer in the hostel, Somebody finally called him out I guess, can't imagine why...
Venkel
I was hung over In the am, by mid-day we strolled out the doors heading for the tram station, stopping at the store for water.The tram we took was supposedly going to get us pretty close to this place I read up on online named Venkel, the reviews said that they made wonderful, locally sourced salads, so I was keen to try it. Although I had picked the right train number, It was going in the opposite direction, and so, before realizing this, we came to the end of the line on the other end of the city. Zane was apt to point out my failing, especially since I had been poring through my map and the transit system grid lines the whole time without once being able to definitively tell us where we were, or where we were going.The large, red hair dyed Italian conductress was not the least bit enthusiastic about her job. As she sat there behind tempered shatterproof glass, absentmindedly handing out the tickets customers requested, she was filing her already ridiculously sharp fake nails, which were much the same color as her dyed hair. When I asked her how to get to where we had intended to go she told us to go back to Bos en lomnerweg. I tried to clarify further and her response was that of unbridled annoyance, "You didn't understand me?! You go back!" She snapped, and that concluded our foray into the conductresses world. Once we figured out where to go, from a much more approachable conductress, they all seem to be women on the trams in Amsterdam, we got off on the outskirts of city center and walked to Venkel. We got the first two items on the menu and were very pleased with our choices. The establishment was run by a woman, and she had two young ladies helping her out. It was peaceful, clean, and very nourishing. Once recharged, we set off into the heart of the city, yet again walking every avenue that drew us in, looking for a Coffee Shop that would suit us. Which in our case meant quite, clean and in possession of a bong. For those of you who think this is an easy list to satisfy, think again, we went into several places and none of them had a bong, were all packed and loud as hell. Eventually though we ended up on the same street we took the night of our arrival in Amsterdam. There was a neat place there that had upstairs and downstairs seating, with a central floor area for eating food they made behind a small kitchen and a place for buying the strains you wanted from the desk in front. It was quite, in that there was no music blasting over us, so we could hear each other, and they had a wall of perfectly clean bongs. Before I knew this for a fact and before we even ordered anything I went in back to ask if they had one, as I had in the other establishments that met the other two requirements, being clean and quiet, and the lady disappeared, came back with a bong, still with a carb, filled it with ice, to cool down the smoke for a more enjoyable experience, and handed it to me. Zane saw this and ordered a gram of something, while I went upstairs and found us a spot at a long dark table placed to the left of a wall surrounded by comfy padded seating build into the wall. We smoked there until we were both twisted, leaving in a haze and coming out somehow worse for wear into the busy streets of Amsterdam. I say worse for wear because somehow Zane's foot was in a lot of pain and my stomach was cramping tight like my fists were during my Sapo (frog poison immunity) experiences in Peru. It was as if I was having a panic attack, in truth I think I was... Marijuana does this to me sometimes, especially when my tolerance is low and Im in unfamiliar circumstances. Within a minutes of really painful cramps I finally got my breathing right and they vanished, just like that. Zane wasn't so lucky, his problem was getting worse. Not wanting to drag him around for a place to eat that suited my diet, which he has insisted on, I chose a place with nice decor and a warm atmosphere nearby. We both had the coconut tomato soup and I ordered veggie spring rolls with a greek salad. We took the bus home and decided on a game of pool in the lobby before bed. Zane was sweeping the floor with me until he missed the 3rd to last ball, then I sunk 5 in a row and missed the 6th. He sunk his next shot but missed the next and I finished with the 8 ball corner pocket shot. Another fun day in the this wild city.
Alter Egos
The morning light peered in between the black out curtains of our 12 person dorm room, yet both Zane and I slept in, the walk home and the flights we took were reason enough for anyone to do so, not to mention we are on vacation. This however wasn't to last, our stomachs were growling, and that urge promotes all kinds of adventurous behavior, regardless of the situation. So we left for the super market, resupplied ourselves with organic apples and rice milk, then headed out to the city center. Not surprisingly the city was much different in the day. All the shops were open, people were everywhere and the ladies behind red lighted windows had vanished to whatever occupation or situation they possessed in the day light hours. Before we continue with the story there is something you should know. Im on this journey for two reasons. The first being that Zane and I have never gone traveling together and its the best way to reinforce your bonds with someone, or destroy them completely, depending on how strong they were to begin. This is important to me because for a few years Zane and I didn't talk at all. First because I chose to spend more time with my girlfriend than my friends in school, and ironically enough, because Zane dated this same girl afterwards and she wanted nothing to do with me, neither did Zane. A solid karmic consequence. But years later after they broke up, Zane and I became friends again, and here we are.The second reason I'm going is because I love traveling and the bonus reason is that I already had a return flight to Europe before I ever agreed to join Zane on his trip. So its really a perfect string of coincidences, if you believe in such things..Zane's reasons are the same but with other emphasis', such as wanting to party. Which although I do partake in, I've long since passed my partying heydays. This is most definitely due to my change in diet and lifestyle, and for which I am eternally grateful. So, what makes Amsterdam so special in terms of the party scene? Well, to start, many drugs, such as marijuana and mushrooms are legally sold and used here. There are a great number of "coffee shops" as they call them that sell marijuana in large variety of strains and ways in which to use them, such as pipes, bongs, pre-rolled mixes of tobacco and marijuana etc. but smoking straight tobacco in the shops is strictly forbidden, or in some cases, allowed in sectioned off areas of the establishment, our first Coffee shop was such a place. After walking around a while looking for one we found the Dolphins Coffee shop. Inside it was designed to imitate an underwater marijuana wonderland. With the walls made out of ejection foam molding and painted blue and green, with artwork all over it of mermaids and sand castles. Everywhere you looked there was Marijuana in one form or another, the seaweed for example, was Marijuana. The mermaids hair as well. We ordered a strain of the shops own creation, Dolphin Diesel, their strongest Indica, sativa hybrid and got one of their bongs to smoke with, which was actually very dirty, it looked like it had been smoked out of 150 times since it was last cleaned. There are a number of reasons why this isn't an ideal situation. Cleanliness being the first, ease and effectiveness of use being second. The other thing about this bong that struck us both was that it had a carb, a whole at the bottom to place your finger over and release when you were ready for the smoke. No bong we've ever seen has had one.This was the first time Id smoked in over three weeks, so after 2 hits I was very much inside the ocean surrounding us. Zane on the other hand had smoked within 24 hours so his tolerance was much higher, he went on to hit it 5 times, which would have made me as useful as a doormat underwater. As much as I enjoy where being in these states takes me, I've always believed in being more in possession of my wits when abroad then not. In fact these I days I feel that way regardless of where I am. The assistant behind the bar was reserved but friendly enough. The only thing that put us aside from every other person that came in was that she didn't ask to see our ids, probably the beards. The thing we came to understand very quickly about Amsterdam is that the people here, especially the coffee shop and bar owners have to deal with a multitude of people from all different cultures getting legally high on all kinds of drugs and most of them are not prepared to handle the social graces of such an experience. Thus the locals have very strict and immovable policies towards visitors and have no problem asserting their position. Which is, follow the rules, or get the fuck out. Mind games don't work on them either, so don't think you can Jedi mind trick your way through town. Respect the rules and stay cool, if you cannot do this, you'll quickly be schooled. We left the Dolphins after feeling sufficiently coordinated to do so and had a few local beers at a pub before heading back to the hostel for some rest. During this time I remained in the lobby while Zane slept. There I met two people whom I got increasingly philosophical with about reality, god, purpose and choices. It was an impressive rant on my part, more and more these days I can stop myself from talking and have patience enough to listen while engaged in deep metaphysical or political discussions, unless Im drunk and high, which is exactly what happened next.We entered the city, found a bar and ordered a pint of beer each, we immediately struck up a conversation with the bartender and his friends who were all transplants to Amsterdam of a decade or more each. Three pints later and a few hits of Zane's pipe and I was the old Danny again, raving mad like Hitler in the beer hall, oblivious to the shock and awe I was unleashing upon unsuspecting and undeserving customers. Certain as any prophet sent by god shouting his gospel to any and all if only they would listen. It was 3 Am before I realized the bar was nearly empty and about to close. In truth Zane was the one that got us out of there, his senses of the situation were much keener than my own. We exited into the street and hailed a taxi, he wanted 17 euro for our ride home, which I flatly refused, my go to response to any negotiation regardless of time and place since beginning my traveling experiences alone. But Zane had already gotten in, and agreed on the price, my nose wrinkling as I exhaled sharply, I quickly got in. We were dropped off a half a mile away from our hostel, my fault for giving the only directions I could remember, so we walked the remainder of the way. During all of which Zane was convinced Id led us a stray. But I knew where we were, thanks to my two hour stroll through this part of the city to find the Alchemist Garden, and within a few minutes we were asleep in our bunks...
Welcome to Amsterdam
For the first leg of my journey to Amsterdam I had to transfer from Stockholm to Oslo and then Oslo to Amsterdam, altogether it was only a few hours and mostly painless. When I arrived I took the train into the city for 5.90 Euros, and then a bus at the central station to what I hoped was the correct area of our hostel.I told the bus driver where I needed to go, Boss en lommerweg its called, and when we passed it I asked if that was my stop, he asked me, “where you want to go?” Wow hostel I replied, and he opened the doors at the next stop and said, “that way, and after some time to the left” while pointing straight at the face of a building, after asking 3 more people for directions I found the place. It’s a 4 story building, probably not designed as a hostel to begin with but converted for such a purpose after the fact.I checked in, paid the 96 Euros that remained over after the online deposit and then had to wait several hours before I could check in. The first person I meet after sitting down in the lobby was a chap from North Whales named Maff, who runs a homeless rehabilitation center there. Before, during and after our conversation he asked if I knew where to Get Marijuana nearby and left me with the impression that smoking it was all that was really on his mind.After searching online for a raw vegan place within walking distance I found the Alchemist Garden, a sweet little place with a wide selection of choices. As much as I would have liked to walk in ready to look through the menu and choose carefully, I had business to attend to in the bathroom, so I ordered 2 random things on the menu, asked where the bathroom was and flew downstairs, passing the owner and his working desk in a flash and quickly landing on the throne.When I came back upstairs my food was already ready, a trademark of Raw food indeed. I had a sandwich made with dehydrated flax seeds and filled with onion, tomato, lettuce, avocado and a light chili sauce. And to finish it off I had a cold African soup. The man behind the counter was originally from Sicily, moved to London in the early 80’s and then in the 90’s moved to Amsterdam where he’s been ever since. I actually really liked him, he was very funny and well informed about a great many things.The owner came up a few moments later and introduced himself, he was very cool as well, and was very interested in speaking with me when I told him I managed an Organic Raw juice and food bar. I suppose that’s how all business is, networking and learning from other companies is pivotal for an infusion of new ideas.When I got back to the hostel it was ok to check in and so I did. The first thing I did when getting into our room was to accidentally cut my head on the lockbox metal flap, I thought it might bleed but wasn’t too worried about it, so I took a shower, and then a nap. When I woke up there were stains on my pillow and a patch of dried blood in my hair, it only bothered me because It was such an easily avoidable injury, and that I looked rather beat up. The jet lag at this point was still causing me a good deal of grief in the energy and healthy look department, a situation I hope to rectify via some newly acquired skill sooner or later.The time came to meet Zane at the airport, and so I left for the main station and bought a 3 day all public transport card for 25 Euros, a great deal if you’re there that long. Zanes flight was an hour late, having to circle the city due to windy conditions. So I found myself a seat and continued to read Tropic of Cancer.Zane came through the gate and we greeted each other with a solid hug and pat on the back, “welcome to Holland,” I said. “good to be here” he replied. I showed him where to buy a three-day transport ticket and then we rode the train and then bus to our hostel. He checked in, put his stuff away and by this time it was already 11:30pm. Zane wanted to see the town, get some water, beer or both, so we took the last bus into the city, walked around for hours, everything was mostly closed, it was a Monday night after all. We did get some water, but no Beer. We also saw the half-naked ladies standing in their red lighted windows beckoning in anyone they chose to spend time with. Some of the more beautiful ladies were quite picky, we saw a few men that had approached the windows be rejected, for being too drunk or not their type, who knows.Finally, I told Zane I was tired and we should really get home. There were supposedly night busses that ran until morning but we couldn’t find them. So, not having any idea how far we really needed to walk, we walked the whole way home. Which was something like 2 hours from 1am to 3pm. This, and It had already been a long day. By the time we got back to the hostel the doors were locked and we stood their dumb founded watching the doors immovable and lifeless. Until they opened as if by magic and we flooded in to the warmth of the temperature controlled building, it was freezing outside after all, literally 32 degrees. We were greeted by the night desk guy who informed us that our keycards would have let us in, to which we shook our collective heads in acceptance and went to bed after splitting the pear and apple I got from my USA to Sweden flight.First impressions of Amsterdam are good in that it’s one of the most unique places I’ve ever been too. But the real test, as always, lies in the many days ahead of us…