Utrecht

Off to the Netherlands to reconnect with Chrissta and Bas! I havent seen them since their spectacular, week-long, Caribbean wedding last April and Im pumped to finally see their home in Utrecht.  Bas took us to this beautiful restaurant called De Zakken Drager. Soft light from various chandeliers and candles twinkled off cast iron details and ornate mirrors. The back of the restaurant looks almost like a greenhouse with slanted glass windows and lush, hanging plants. Id love to come back in the summer and sit outside. 

Next we headed over to Bas and Chrissta's favorite watering hole, Oliver's to sip on some Le Chouffe. Its an old building that used to be a church and looks almost like an old apothecary store too. I loved the high ceilings and old organ on the second floor. On game days, there is a big screen projected onto the wall so all can enjoy the action. 

 Bas said good night after a beer (hes a working man!) and his cousin Theirry came to join Chrissta and I at her favorite jazz bar. There was a jam session that night and a SUPER BABE of a saxophone player was belting out a funky version of a Bob Marley song when we entered. Sweet.

We ate, drank and were merry. So good to be reunited :)

Paul

My roommate (or flatmate, as Paul says. "We dont share a room, right?") is awesome and totally hilarious. The first night we went out he took me to his favorite indie rock club, Rosi's in Friedrichshain. Before we left, we sat at the table in the kitchen talking story and getting to know one another. Paul drank about 9 Schwipp-Schwapp martini's and like most cool people, got increasingly louder and more funny as each slurped down.

 

 

The trem ride to Rosi's was equally as entertaining with Paul whispering his rambling commentary on all the passengers who appeared to be as messed up as he was. I was laughing so hard I think I peed my pants. Twice.

Before we entered the club, Paul pulled two flask-sized bottles of vodka out of his bag, handed one to me and stuffed the other down his pants. "Hide this! We will buy cokes and add this to them! Here we are!", he said, slapping the bottle into my hand. I smiled and did as I was told. We got inside and I surveyed the place: dirty and poorly lit with cheap drinks, a young crowd, and system pumping out my favorite Strokes song, it was exactly where I wanted to be. Paul headed to the front and dropped his bag on the floor. I heard a dull CRACK and laughed when I realized he shattered his glass flask, mere seconds after we got inside. Unaware, he started stuffing his sweater and jacket into his back and hoisted it up over his shoulder, smiling, with vodka seeping out of the bag, wetting his pants. Awesome. I headed to the back to find the toilet, grab a coke and let Paul dance it out for a couple minutes before I took him outside. When I got back, Paul had created a little space all to him self and proudly waved me over. Then I noticed he had blood all over his hands and the left side of his body from the glass shards in his bag slicing him with every Michael Jackson hip shake, as cute as it was. Needless to say, I grabbed him and took him outside to clean him up. "NO, my mobile phone!" he shrieked when his 2003 model dinosaur Nokia landed in the leaves. When I explained what had happened, he looked at himself, smiled, held up his bloody hands said, "Oh hey, HIV FOR FREE!!" HAHHAa. 

Musica

Summer is starting to come to an end (NOOO!!!) and I finally have a day off to roll around on the beach and eat ice cream and read Vouge, but I am lying in bed, wistfully hooked on this song/video by Washed Out....ahhh...