Amsterdamned if you do ...

Made it to Rembrandt House. Not worth the trip. Seeing as how just about everything was a replica and it was more about him dealing art and going bankrupt than his art itself, 20 minutes with Wikipedia might have done the trick (his prints/etchings were a highlight -- possibly the only one).

Of course, I could just pretend it was the torture museum ... In that case, it was perfect!

Then, in this crappy weather, cabbed out to my hostel in the middle of nowhere ad got a room with some frat-like dudes who had torn the place apart (and possibly used my bed, too -- lovely).

Yep, shoulda just stayed in Dublin. Oh well.

OK, after meeting and chatting with my drunken but friendly hostelmates from Wales (they were bummed as Cardiff lost the League Cup final), getting settled, figuring out how/where to take the bus and making my reservation for tomorrow's train to Paris, I've calmed down about being here. Still would rather be in Dublin (or York ...), but this will do.

Also, realizing that I hadn't eaten since a small breakfast explained some of the crankiness. That and the Heineken Experience being closed (one of the reasons I wanted to come back here).

I tried fries and mayo (a local favorite). I don't get it. But a homeless guy did help me buy a bus ticket. Too bad I had no pizza to give him.

Shortly thereafter I saw what can only be described as a drunken mega-bike (well, there are other ways to describe it, but whatever). Basically is was eight guys facing each other -- four on each side -- with one guy in front steering. And they all were pedaling this contraption. And chanting. And drinking. There was room for a few small kegs on there.

Smart money's on that thing joining the many bikes at the bottom of the canal by the end of the night.

And it actually turned out to be a nice night weather-wise. Cool but clear.

And I got to try out one of those outdoor facilities I mentioned a couple of entries back. Too funny.

(I'm typing this as I polish off a pastry of sorts while watching people play jenga.)

FUN FACT: An event known as The Miracle of Amsterdam caused quite a stir for Christians a few centuries back. Many embarked on pilgrimages here to see the miracle. Here's the gist:

Old man is very sick, is given last rites and sacrament. But he's so ill that he can't keep it down, so he pukes it all up. A nun tending to him worries about disease and quickly tosses it all on the fire.

In the morning, floating above the fire, is one piece of bread. Uncharred.

Holy vomit, Batman.

Christians see this as proof of Christ, as the sacrament is supposed to be his body. And it survived fire (and stomach acid). So they took the bread and displayed it in a nice box for all to see. But the place burned down.

Yet the bread survived again.

Only to have some guy steal the next nice box it was in and toss the bread into a canal, never to be seen again.

So there ya go. The Miracle of Amsterdam.

Meanwhile...
Earlier in the day at the Dublin airport I heard someone say, "He's probably going to Hartford."

Yep, I was wearing my UConn shirt again. It was a Quinnipiac student and her family (she asked if I go to UConn ... Now I look 22?).

Not going to Hartford. Yet.

When the Whale comes back, my friends. When the Whale comes back.

Zito. Or in this case, Zalapski.