Today, July 22nd, we awoke late at 10:30 a.m., after falling asleep late, but sleeping very well on the comfortable bed at our hotel. The hotel is very quiet and is in a sleepy little posh neighbourhood. The neighbourhood is beautiful, safe, and clean.
|The Bilderberg Garden Hotel - We're still waiting for the invitation to the conference to be slipped under our door.|
We stopped at a pizza place in a very touristy area, Leidestraat. We sat outside and ate the delicious pizza (haven't had a pizza that good since we were in French Polynesia) and watched all the tourists walk by in various states of confusion/inebriation/cockiness.
|This is a step up from the Pizza we get in Canada...even that place in Cook St. Village.|
We found a place to buy a canal tour near to Central Station (De Dam area). We went on the almost hour long tour. Seeing the houses from the water was interesting. The leaning houses are called "dancing houses" and the audio guide had funny stories about people building houses in different ways to avoid taxation (small in front, large in back or tall but thin, or buying two adjoining lots and then adding a door inside between them). The greenhouse like feeling in the canal boat started lulling both of us to sleep towards the end. There were a couple of scary moments of smaller boats running into our boat and near collisions of various boats in the busy canals. The canal boat captain said "see you can drive here without a license."
|You can meet creepy people under bridges.|
|Scenes from our canal tour.|
|Oh, that place. Right....|
Back in the Museum Quarter we tried to find a restaurant. We wanted to have something like Indonesian or Surinamese, but this proved to be difficult between closed restaurants, tourist traps, and that one Indonesian restaurant we sat down in and waited almost 10 minutes but the guy just continued talking on the phone and staring at us without serving us or bringing us a menu (the highlight of that place was the sleepy cat on the front steps).
|The cat seemed like a good omen, but that Indonesian restaurant turned out to be a bust.|
Like ravenous drifters we traversed the square, eyeing people with food hungrily (could we take that kid on and get his ice cream? Where did he get that from?). We found a little stand in the square and ordered their last sandwich, tuna, to share, and then waffle with ice cream. April assumed it was a waffle cone, but it was actually a hot waffle with gorgeous vanilla ice cream melting onto it. Between that and the ice cold Spa Rood (their fizzy water), we were in drifter heaven.
|Our drifter dinner . . .|
|Impulse to kill and steal food fading.|
As we walked home, we found an ice cream place in our neighbourhood and had an ice cream while we wandered over the canal back to our hotel. We were both exhausted, hot, dehydrated, and sore. We had walked almost 16 km.