Tip: To better experience this blog, play the vidoes with the sound ON as you read. Sometimes watching the video can be inspirational, but the most important part of video is the SOUND.
Tarbelly & Featherfooot. Swing the Statue:
Thanks for the recommendation of Grey Area. I know its name, but I still want to call it Gray Matter for some reason. Went there on a Sunday. Same day other people went to Church. I saw some of them coming and going to and fro. Smoked Eel. Mixed Potatoe Sausage. Heineken. Photos and flowers. I AMSTERDAM!
The line was too long at the Van Gogh. Forget that. The sun was shining anyway. Old Art can wait. It always looks the same anyway.
Then it was to Gray Matter. A dingey dank little shop. I did not wear a mustache. Some others I think were wearing, however. I tried not to look at them. I wasn’t sure if I should or not. It was a grey area. There was a varities menu with prices per portion. It all sounded good. A choice was required though it didn’t matter to me. Just give me some please. And Thank You, by the way. It was great. I selected at Random and passed on the menu to a fellow patriot. He got excited about Kosher Kush being on the menu and proclaimed it to be rare and powerful. I had no reason to doubt this stranger’s wisdom and knowledge, so I took the unintentional advice. And got some Kosher Kush. 1 gram. I dunno 16 Euro maybe. Does that sound right? Kinda sounds expensive to me. Oh well. Fuck it. My choice is arbitrary anyway…but why not pick the hand written entry over the permanent ones? Intuition.
Messed around with some thin cheap papers.Bad music.Wasted weirdos.And bad matches. Before bailing on the place. Shoulda just asked for a bong for sure.But that kinda seemed like cheating or suicide or both. Bongs are scary sometimes. Especially when they belong to a completely unknown entity. Public-use bong? Yes we have that! I AMSTERDAM!
Busted outta there. Camera in pocket. Directions in hand. The dealer at Gray Area knew a place where I could find a glass pipe. He gave me good directions. I was stoned, but not too stoned. I was walking around in Amsterdam on a Sunny Sunday. Of course it was beautiful. And strange.And for a moment it was a place where I appreciated everybody and whatever they were doing, even if they were in my way or obstructing my view or slowing me down or blocking the light or yakking loud about nothing.Or just being strange.
From there I just wandered, water bottle in hand. Sometimes I’d look at a map, but mostly I looked at the sun, the people, the shine. I wondered how many of those people would be there the next weekend too. I took pictures and looked at the sky and the cobblestones and the boats and the trash cans. I figured my way back to base but I wasn’t afraid of being strange. I stopped at the grocery. I got a 6-pack of Heineken cans and some Haribo candi (Frogs and Banannas). No Ape Koppen candies unfortunately.