Thirty-Three: Al and Judes

After galavanting around northern Italy and then Paris, Greg returned to Amsterdam bearing the gift of Francie. We start having fun immediately. We suss out a popular frites stand in the Jordaan. Greg and I soften Francie up for some big spending (which she is somewhat loath to do), then we hit the 9-Streets. Who can resist hand made leather boots from Spain? Not even Francie! She also springs for a vintage motorcycle jacket from Zipper.

Over the next three days we sit in some cafes. We dine at favorite restaurants (Quatfaas, 1900, La Vallade, De Oude Smidse). Greg and I ride bikes while Francie - maintaining her marathon training schedule despite all the fun - runs. We play Taboo; hilarious to the 10th degree.

On some days Francie has to work because her job is hectic. While she works, Greg and I play. We visit Van Gogh, wander aimlessly, eat.

We spend their last day shopping in Den Haag (Francie is totally off the thrift wagon by now). When Greg returns to Seattle Francie heads to Paris for unplanned business meetings. Happily she manages to schedule one more day in Amsterdam at the end of the week. Greg laments that what began as his European vacation has morphed into an extended holiday for Francie.

Francie gets the Parisian Microsofties back on track then returns via high speed train. En route she discovers an anti-snurking advertisement in a Dutch magazine. It provides her hours of entertainment.

We have a mellow one-day visit. Jogging, biking, grocery shopping. In the cereal aisle Francie falls in love with Honing Hoepels. She snaps photo after photo with her gigantic professional camera. For dinner, she makes fresh pasta from scratch and gooey chocolate pudding/cake. Afterwards Kim introduces her to 'Inky Pinky' - an old Landau family word game. The two word nerds play for hours, discarding one rule after the other until they have created a new game entirely.

The next morning Francie heads back to Seattle leaving Kim and I sans friends once again. On the bright side, I'm almost certain we could convince these two to return, or at least to meet up somewhere in the world for more travel adventures.

Thirty-Two: The Last Day of Fall

On what would turn out to be the last beautiful day of the season, I took a long bike ride out of town. It was sunny and 59. There were rivers, barges, villages, sailboats, farm animals and - surprisingly - a castle....

Thirty-one: I Love Lederhosen

Oktoberfest in Munich. Overall impression? A lot of people, a lot of food, a lot of beer, a lot of drunk.

Amanda, Jon - another expat - Kim and I flew in on Friday night, then took the train (adorned with the nicest graffiti) to town. Kim and I were staying just a few blocks from the festival grounds. We couldn't wait to partake in appropriate food and beverage, so we headed directly to the hotel restaurant for beer and Wiener Schnitzel.

The next morning at nine we braved the main event. The grounds were already packed, the beer halls turning people away. We met up with Amanda and Jon at an outdoor beer garden where they were busy downing steins with a group of complete strangers. There were dice games. There was singing. Shouts of "Prost!" at every table. After attempting to ingest a stein each (and failing, pawning our remainders off on Jon), Kim and I left the beer garden to walk the grounds and eat bratwurst. Wandering through the carnival atmosphere, we discovered the best thing about Oktoberfest. The outfits! Traditional Bavarian 'tracht'. Short lederhosen and long lederhosen, new lederhosen and 3rd generation lederhosen, fancy lederhosen and simple lederhosen, giant lederhosen and tiny lederhosen. And somehow, everyone's butt looks great in these things. Then of course there are the the dirndls. Colorful and drab, ornate and simple, conservative and not so much. Photographing outfits became my obsession.

Later we met back up with Amanda and Jon and their beer garden companions, who were no longer strangers. They were Pedro from Portugal, Alexis and Catherine from Brooklyn and Carlos from Ft. Lauderdale of all places. These new pals were headed to a beer hall where they had reservations. We tagged along hoping to weasel our way in somehow. Kim bought two tickets off a scalper of sorts, which still left us two short. Catherine said, "just say you have a reservation and drop any German name!" In the long and jostling line Jon and I - both without tickets - ended up far behind the others. When Jon reached the security guard and was stopped, he announced with great authority, "I have a reservation. Becker." The guard looked over his list, then waved Jon and I through. Everyone was very impressed with Jon. But soon thereafter we spotted a young guard sneaking a stream of bill-palming people through a side door; apparently there are a number of ways to skin the cat (though I later saw that same guard dressed down by his superior).

It was incredibly crowded, loud, smokey, and smelly in the beer hall. After about half a radler (beer mixed with sprite - we had to cut the alcohol content somehow) and a roast chicken, Kim and I fled; she was getting claustrophobic and I was getting sick of drunk Pedro stealing my hat. Amanda joined us and we wandered to a hill at the edge of the grounds where revelers go to 'rest' (re: pass out). We surveyed the scene. Things were definitely heading south. People were being carted away on gurneys. We layed around in the grass for a while, then sought out some fortifying carnival food before Kim and I returned to our hotel to recuperate. The party was by no means confined to the designated area - one guy was passed out in the street right in front of our hotel.

Later that night Kim and I walked to the historic city center for a civilized Bavarian meal (schnitzel, roast pork, spaetzle). Along the way we saw lots of tracht-clad Germans cycling along their fast-growing bike lane network. They seem to be embracing this transportation trend as well and quickly as they are wind turbines and solar panels.

On Sunday we wandered back downtown, sat in a park, then had a beer and pretzel lunch in Marienplatz. In the late afternoon we climbed St. Peter's tower with Amanda and Jon, then returned to Oktoberfest for the last hoorah - more bratwurst and a final stein.


Kim declared Oktoberfest a worthy spectacle, but is adamant; she never, ever has to do it again. While I'm in total agreement, I do owe my new found love of lederhosen to the experience...