Fighting jet lag by consuming my own weight in hazlenut biscuits. It's not really working, but I am happier. We got into Schipol in Amsterdam at 8 a.m. local time (which is 2 a.m. Amoret Standard Time). Scherezade was there to greet us, looking even more stylish than usual. I'm having trouble pinning down the cause of this sudden upsurge in sass: it's either that she cuts a fine figure in the Netherlands, or that her sexy knowledge of subways & trains made her even more irresistible than usual, or that 7 hours in cattle class wore down my benchmarks for style. I'm thinking that it was probably the first two.

the apartment: small but funk-ay reading a map

We took a train & then a cab to Scherezade's Elf house (elf is Dutch for eleven), where we were greeted with 2 flights of the steepest stairs I've ever seen in my life. (I would soon be quite used to these "leg-breaking" stairs, as they existed in just about every house & shop in the Netherlands.) I was favourably impressed my the clean, cluttered, funky 2 room flat Scherezade called home. Everything in there seemed to have been born in Ikea (but as Scherezade says, everything in Europe has those clean lines & relentless efficiency.) My mother & I slept completely motionless on Scherezade's twin bed for 4 badly needed hours, then we all got up to see a few local sights.

#76 - the mushroom ragôut

The first place she took us to was arguably the most impressive: 't Pannekoeken Huisje. Located on the Nordzee Strand (or the North Sea beach), it's a restaurant that has over 100 pancake dishes. Scherezade & my mother went for dessert varieties but I decided to pretend that it was supper, and order the mushroom ragôut. As such, I had no need for the 'Stroop,' a sauce that was described as "sweet, but kinda meaty." Freak show.

For dessert we had pofferjes, which are little pannekoeken with melted butter in their middles. The pofferjes are sprinkled with powdered sugar and served with vanilla ice cream. It was so good that I couldn't spare even a second to take a picture - my fellow travellers and I were like pasty wolves and there was soon nothing to see on the plate ecept for a few stray dabs of melted cream. It was one of the best treats in a treat-filled holiday.

When we were through with 'tPH, we took a long walk along the Strand and slowly acclimatized ourselves to the idea that we wer on the Nordzee, surrounded my a tonne of Dutch-speaking natives. This was harder to grasp than you may think, as just about everyone knew enough English to make us feel comfortable with our unilingualism. It's a strange limbo that exists between the exotic and the familiar; when you don't have to stumble over a foreign phrase book, it's easy to think that you're home. Or that you've fallen into a dream where the pancakes & the hotdogs run the world.

mom & her saucy new friend

bundling up in the harsh wind

funny if you know her!

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