Dear diary.
So, all the buildings are topsy turvy and lean-y and falling-down-y. It is amazing - everytime we try and photograph it, our cameras seem to straighten things out, maybe so as not to hurt the buildings' egos. ego. egos? Hmm. Almost everything is the same height, about 3-4 stories - no more, no less. I have not seen a single house around the inner city suburb we are staying in, and yet even in the heart of the city, we are walking past peoples' kitchen windows every day. It is intriguing. People have nice kitchens here too. You can tell the fancier places have more ornament and bigger windows, and amazing doors!
See above and below for the example of 'fancy'. In this street of fancy-ness, all the doorways house amazing painted tiles in their doorways, and the most amazing doors of pure joy. It has made us think about the purpose of an entrance and how the physical aspects of it can change the way you feel about a certain space.
This is Kent (did you know??) - he is very handsome, and a willing subject for my tourist shots.
This is what I mean about construction. Half the historical buildings are covered in scaffolding and barriers and all sorts - which makes sense seeing all the buildings that are only standing because they are crammed in between two other buildings that seem to hold them up.
Some of the graffiti and paste-ups around the area De Pijp
This is a cartoon we desparately want to see. If only the shop had been open. (Everything is shut on a Sunday, but makes for good Sunday strolling, and you feel less dick-ish [or dick-tromish as the case may be] taking stupid photos of things like DVDs with genitalia in the title.)
This was the beautiful coffee shop we visited a couple of times - great coffee (pretty good, if compared to Melbourne - ooooh!) of many different types (you can even have a latte with goat's milk. I did not have that.) and gorgeous stained glass windows (another amazing architectural feature that is everywhere here - Dad, you'd love it!). A strange custom to us Melbournites is that you order your coffee, they put the cups on a tray ready to be made, and you wait there, then take the tray back to your seat. Kinda like at the airport, or institution cafes.
This is the balcony of our flat - it feels a bit like you are in a prison, with views into all the other cells. Cats watch you from everywhere. No one is safe. In order to get out onto the balcony, you have to open the door halfway, slip out, close the door, and sit on your stool before the other person comes out. Otherwise you can only have one out at a time.
It has come to my attention that this has become less a post about the things I don't know about Amsterdam, and more about things. Which I think is ok. I haven't got stuck in a tram door since, or fallen down a flight of stairs yet (the staircases are VERY steep here), so I feel now that I am getting into the rhythm (though I do have to take another tram tomorrow as well as several flights of steps.)
Until later!
xxx
lu
P.S. It has come to my attention that maybe we should sign off - Kent this is aimed at you too. Mum read your post and thought it was me sounding 'learned' so I think we better nip that in the bud while we can.
P.P.S. DIKTROM!! What's not hilarious about that?!
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