On the final day here, the weather has returned to normal. It's grey skies and misting rain outside, a fitting setting for my last walk along the canals.
Cathy hopped in a cab at 8 this morning for Schipol airport, as her flight left at 10:30. Since we booked separately to get one ticket with air miles, I'm on a later flight, not leaving until 4:30 this afternoon. I'll take the tram to Centraal Station and take the train out to the airport. From there it's a long trip back, and with the 8 hour time difference (racing backward against it) I'll be in Boise at 11:30pm tonight. Weird.
The weather may be contributing to the melancholy feeling I have, but it's also my leaving here that's got me a bit sad. We had a great time here, again, and I wish we had another week to take in the city and pretend we live here.
This morning I walked out Prinsengracht, one of the main canals, for quite a while, until the rain got a bit uncomfortable. I turned in toward the city center and retraced my trajectory on the parallel canal of Keizersgracht, all the way back to the Westerkirk church near where I'm staying. It was a great walk, just gaping at the architecture and watching people and bikes go by. I'm glad I had these last few hours here to get out among it again before going home.
It's always nice to get home and get out of a suitcase, but I'll miss it here. But, at least I know we'll be back.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Wilco
Man oh man.
Last night me, Cathy, John, Tom, Pierre, and Gerry's brother Adrian made our way to the Paradiso to see Wilco. I knew it'd be great, but I didn't know that it'd be last-night-of-a-world-tour-in-Amsterdam great. Sheezus.
The place was absolutely jammed. We walked into the main room and as soon as we were through the door we met a solid wall of backs. No space whatsoever. We sidestepped up some stairs and toward the bar, on a riser stage right, and somehow finagled a corner spot, against a post, right next to the bar. It was tight, and there was no option of moving around or going to the bathroom, but we could see everything and the sound was outstanding. And jammed though we were, the folks we were jammed against were nothing but polite and friendly at all times.
We missed the first part of the first song, "Far, Far Away" off Being There, but were in place and set when they broke into "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart," which blew the roof off the joint. They played loads of new stuff, highlights including "Hummingbird," a long and blazing turn through "Spiders: Kidsmoke," and "Muzzle of Bees" off the new one, and they even dipped back into Being There and Summerteeth, rocking "Misunderstood"for all it was worth, giving new life to "Shot in the Arm,"and making "Via Chicago" into the masterpiece that I always knew it was. They closed with two encores, including a new track and a cover of a Dylan tune that I can't name right off.
The feel for the show was amazing on both sides of the stage, the crowd going nuts at every opportunity, yelling "Ya! Ya!"with all their might. It was guitar tech Frankie's last night with them, too, so that surely added to Tweedy's depth of feeling for this show. He had us chanting "Frankie!"and responding, during the call and response portion of "Kingpin,"with Frankie's name instead of "How Can I!"A great experience, and I'm very glad I got tickets for it before we left the states. I'd have hated to miss this one.
Last night me, Cathy, John, Tom, Pierre, and Gerry's brother Adrian made our way to the Paradiso to see Wilco. I knew it'd be great, but I didn't know that it'd be last-night-of-a-world-tour-in-Amsterdam great. Sheezus.
The place was absolutely jammed. We walked into the main room and as soon as we were through the door we met a solid wall of backs. No space whatsoever. We sidestepped up some stairs and toward the bar, on a riser stage right, and somehow finagled a corner spot, against a post, right next to the bar. It was tight, and there was no option of moving around or going to the bathroom, but we could see everything and the sound was outstanding. And jammed though we were, the folks we were jammed against were nothing but polite and friendly at all times.
We missed the first part of the first song, "Far, Far Away" off Being There, but were in place and set when they broke into "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart," which blew the roof off the joint. They played loads of new stuff, highlights including "Hummingbird," a long and blazing turn through "Spiders: Kidsmoke," and "Muzzle of Bees" off the new one, and they even dipped back into Being There and Summerteeth, rocking "Misunderstood"for all it was worth, giving new life to "Shot in the Arm,"and making "Via Chicago" into the masterpiece that I always knew it was. They closed with two encores, including a new track and a cover of a Dylan tune that I can't name right off.
The feel for the show was amazing on both sides of the stage, the crowd going nuts at every opportunity, yelling "Ya! Ya!"with all their might. It was guitar tech Frankie's last night with them, too, so that surely added to Tweedy's depth of feeling for this show. He had us chanting "Frankie!"and responding, during the call and response portion of "Kingpin,"with Frankie's name instead of "How Can I!"A great experience, and I'm very glad I got tickets for it before we left the states. I'd have hated to miss this one.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Wedding Day
The bus ride out to the wedding site was supposed to be twenty minutes. It was well over45 before the driver got us there, winding through the backroads of rural Holland on roads tight for a tiny Euro car, let alone a double decker touring bus.
But we did arrive for the first of a solid twelve hours of celebration and party and bus rides. The wedding was to take place at a gorgeous old estate at the crossing of two major canals. Its got a rich history, from Spanish takeover to Dutch retaking and its current pristine state as a historical landmark. The grounds were surrounded by pastureland, rolling and green and filled with sheep and cows who'd venture near a handful at a time to get a load of what we were carrying on about.
Inside was all hefty wooden beams and polished wooden walls, a beautiful room filled with flowers and chairs. The ceremony was lovely, part in Dutch and part in English, with greetings and history and speeches by close friends and family. Gerry and Christina both gave lovely talks, and Jim their American friend read an Ogden Nash poem, all of which were sepatated or punctuated by Irish music from guitar and fiddle. The higlight, in my somewhat prejudiced opinion, was when Cathy got up and gave the speech they'd asked her, as witness, to give. This was a big honor, as only she and Jim were asked to speak in addition to themselves and a closing toast. Cathy was understandably nervous, but she did so well that she got to hear just how well from everyone at the party for the rest of the weekend. By the time she finished, Christina and Gerry's sister were both in tears. I too was quite moved by it, telling as she did of their meeting in Austin, with us at hand, and how their friendship grew into something more over the years. She did a hell of a job.
After the final toast, they were married, and as they signed the stack of documents, we all moved outdoors to have drinks and snacks in the beautiful midday sunshine. Strange, that, too: the weather's been absolutely perfect since we've been here, a total turnaround from the way it's been the rest of the summer. Lucky for us.
From the wedding site, after a group shot for which everyone slogged across a soft grassy field to an embankment to pose in front of the pasture, we were ushered back onto the bus and taken back to the Schlummelpakker Huys for dinner. We had seafood salad with the most delicious grilled scallops and a prawn and some greens, a lobster bisque with Dutch shrimps (like little brine shrimp), and a veal ribeye served with a roasted potato mold and some green beans. Very, very good. This on top of being served snacks all day at every stop, from fried bits of cheese to grilled bits of meat to all manner of bread and toppings and coffee and pastries and on and on. We were well taken care of.
More speeches and antics filled the dinner hours, with one of Gerry's friends turning his suit into a priest's frock and collar, just to make sure Gerry was properly married.
From dinner, it was back on the bus and a short drive to the site of the reception, a great little pub/dinner hall out in the boonies, again, with a wooden stage at one end, a dance floor, and a big seating area behind. The band, of Danny the guy who played at the wedding, was fantastic, playing acoustic Irish music all night, keeping the people dancing the whole time. Though I was slowing down quite a bit by this time, I managed to get yet a few more beers and snacks in me, and I even danced for a while. The party was long and fun, Gerry and Christina's parents both having a wonderful time along with everyone else.
At one point, Gerry was introduced by his friend Jim, and he took the stage to sing a raucous version of "Ring of Fire." His voice was utterly shot, but he squeaked it out and then called his brother Adrian up to help him sing Gram Parson's "SinCity,"very nicely done. Gerry must have been on cloud 9 all night, surrounded by family and friends from all over the world, playing with one of his favorite bands, responsible for the entire weekend. And it was amazing how well everyone got on. We were all captive, at his beck and call all weekend, shuffling from one party to the next, folks from Ireland, Holland, the US, Spain, England, Sweden, and who knows where else, all getting along incredibly well, talking and laughing and giving each other good-natured shit and ribbings the entire time. The toughest part was just keeping pace with the Irish folk, of whom Wouter, master of ceremonies and a great friend of Christina's, said "They never stop, they just keep going, like a bunch of little Duracell bunnies." Very true.
After the reception, a good portion of the guests moved back to O'Kelly's in Groningen, where they were bound to stay up singing and drinking and playing music into the wee hours. I walked Cathy back to our room, and by the time I got there there was no way in the world I was gonna turn back and go back to the pub. I was dead. Too bad, as they reportedly were at it until sunup, just after the time, at about 6:30am, Christina was seen walking home down the street from the pub, still in her wedding dress. I wish I'd have been there for that scene, but being that we got home around 3:30, I don't feel so bad about cutting out.
It was an amazing time, the best wedding ever, hands down. We're very glad we could make it over for this.
But we did arrive for the first of a solid twelve hours of celebration and party and bus rides. The wedding was to take place at a gorgeous old estate at the crossing of two major canals. Its got a rich history, from Spanish takeover to Dutch retaking and its current pristine state as a historical landmark. The grounds were surrounded by pastureland, rolling and green and filled with sheep and cows who'd venture near a handful at a time to get a load of what we were carrying on about.
Inside was all hefty wooden beams and polished wooden walls, a beautiful room filled with flowers and chairs. The ceremony was lovely, part in Dutch and part in English, with greetings and history and speeches by close friends and family. Gerry and Christina both gave lovely talks, and Jim their American friend read an Ogden Nash poem, all of which were sepatated or punctuated by Irish music from guitar and fiddle. The higlight, in my somewhat prejudiced opinion, was when Cathy got up and gave the speech they'd asked her, as witness, to give. This was a big honor, as only she and Jim were asked to speak in addition to themselves and a closing toast. Cathy was understandably nervous, but she did so well that she got to hear just how well from everyone at the party for the rest of the weekend. By the time she finished, Christina and Gerry's sister were both in tears. I too was quite moved by it, telling as she did of their meeting in Austin, with us at hand, and how their friendship grew into something more over the years. She did a hell of a job.
After the final toast, they were married, and as they signed the stack of documents, we all moved outdoors to have drinks and snacks in the beautiful midday sunshine. Strange, that, too: the weather's been absolutely perfect since we've been here, a total turnaround from the way it's been the rest of the summer. Lucky for us.
From the wedding site, after a group shot for which everyone slogged across a soft grassy field to an embankment to pose in front of the pasture, we were ushered back onto the bus and taken back to the Schlummelpakker Huys for dinner. We had seafood salad with the most delicious grilled scallops and a prawn and some greens, a lobster bisque with Dutch shrimps (like little brine shrimp), and a veal ribeye served with a roasted potato mold and some green beans. Very, very good. This on top of being served snacks all day at every stop, from fried bits of cheese to grilled bits of meat to all manner of bread and toppings and coffee and pastries and on and on. We were well taken care of.
More speeches and antics filled the dinner hours, with one of Gerry's friends turning his suit into a priest's frock and collar, just to make sure Gerry was properly married.
From dinner, it was back on the bus and a short drive to the site of the reception, a great little pub/dinner hall out in the boonies, again, with a wooden stage at one end, a dance floor, and a big seating area behind. The band, of Danny the guy who played at the wedding, was fantastic, playing acoustic Irish music all night, keeping the people dancing the whole time. Though I was slowing down quite a bit by this time, I managed to get yet a few more beers and snacks in me, and I even danced for a while. The party was long and fun, Gerry and Christina's parents both having a wonderful time along with everyone else.
At one point, Gerry was introduced by his friend Jim, and he took the stage to sing a raucous version of "Ring of Fire." His voice was utterly shot, but he squeaked it out and then called his brother Adrian up to help him sing Gram Parson's "SinCity,"very nicely done. Gerry must have been on cloud 9 all night, surrounded by family and friends from all over the world, playing with one of his favorite bands, responsible for the entire weekend. And it was amazing how well everyone got on. We were all captive, at his beck and call all weekend, shuffling from one party to the next, folks from Ireland, Holland, the US, Spain, England, Sweden, and who knows where else, all getting along incredibly well, talking and laughing and giving each other good-natured shit and ribbings the entire time. The toughest part was just keeping pace with the Irish folk, of whom Wouter, master of ceremonies and a great friend of Christina's, said "They never stop, they just keep going, like a bunch of little Duracell bunnies." Very true.
After the reception, a good portion of the guests moved back to O'Kelly's in Groningen, where they were bound to stay up singing and drinking and playing music into the wee hours. I walked Cathy back to our room, and by the time I got there there was no way in the world I was gonna turn back and go back to the pub. I was dead. Too bad, as they reportedly were at it until sunup, just after the time, at about 6:30am, Christina was seen walking home down the street from the pub, still in her wedding dress. I wish I'd have been there for that scene, but being that we got home around 3:30, I don't feel so bad about cutting out.
It was an amazing time, the best wedding ever, hands down. We're very glad we could make it over for this.
The Dutch Irish Connection
Man, what a weekend. I thought my and Cathy's wedding was cool. This was just the most amazingly well orchestrated event of its kind that I've witnessed.
The whole thing took place out in and around the city of Groningen, north of Amsterdam about two to three hours by double decker bus (one of which Gerry rented for the weekend to shuttle the hundred or so of us around). It was a lovely, flat, green drive made more pleasant by the Texas music wafting from the stereo (we made some mix CDs for the couple, at their request).
Most of the people attending stayed in a big fancy hotel near the main square, a place called the Schimmelpennick Huys. Cathy and I stayed in the Simplon Hostel, about a ten minute walk across town. It was nice, clean, simple, and about a quarter of the price. Gronginen seems like a really great city, compact, well planned, old gorgeous buildings and bike lanes everywhere, loads of shops for everything imaginable, a University, very nice. Definitely a place I'd like to get back to for a visit.
On Friday night, we rode the bus out to a great little place on a lake, a resaurant/bar with a huge patio and a nice dance floor, old and wooden and full of character. We had a cookout of chicken and beef and kabobs and various salads, all very nice, before the Bayou Mosquitos got up to play. A Dutch band, they specialized in Louisiana music with some Texas influence thrown in. They were great fun, and we danced a heap o two steps, actually impressing the Dutchies with our moves. Imagine.
And, small world: I walk over on Cathy's signal where, during a break, she's up chatting to the guys in the band (of course). As I approach I realize they're playing and singing Sweet Li'l Love by the Gourds, trying to remember the words. They knew of The Gourds, and further, the bass player, Pierre Robinet or something close to that, has played and recorded music with Rob Halverson, friend and musician from Austin. So, we pass along greetings here, Rob, if you're reading.
After the party, the bus headed back to town, where it dropped the lot of us in front of the Schlimmopuudik Huys--except for Cathy. The bus had to drive by our hostel anyway, so the driver agreed to drop her off rock star style. Double decker bus for one. Very nice.
The rest of us meandered a couple blocks up the road to O'Kelly's, a great Irish pub near the hotel. There I sat in a smoke-filled room full of music and talking and singing, mostly coming from wedding guests who were all growing very chummy with each other by now, until round about 3:30 in the morning. Just a fantastic time, so many happy people meeting each other and getting along, from entirely different worlds mostly, from Holland to Ireland, merely an hour's flight away.
And this was the pre party.
The whole thing took place out in and around the city of Groningen, north of Amsterdam about two to three hours by double decker bus (one of which Gerry rented for the weekend to shuttle the hundred or so of us around). It was a lovely, flat, green drive made more pleasant by the Texas music wafting from the stereo (we made some mix CDs for the couple, at their request).
Most of the people attending stayed in a big fancy hotel near the main square, a place called the Schimmelpennick Huys. Cathy and I stayed in the Simplon Hostel, about a ten minute walk across town. It was nice, clean, simple, and about a quarter of the price. Gronginen seems like a really great city, compact, well planned, old gorgeous buildings and bike lanes everywhere, loads of shops for everything imaginable, a University, very nice. Definitely a place I'd like to get back to for a visit.
On Friday night, we rode the bus out to a great little place on a lake, a resaurant/bar with a huge patio and a nice dance floor, old and wooden and full of character. We had a cookout of chicken and beef and kabobs and various salads, all very nice, before the Bayou Mosquitos got up to play. A Dutch band, they specialized in Louisiana music with some Texas influence thrown in. They were great fun, and we danced a heap o two steps, actually impressing the Dutchies with our moves. Imagine.
And, small world: I walk over on Cathy's signal where, during a break, she's up chatting to the guys in the band (of course). As I approach I realize they're playing and singing Sweet Li'l Love by the Gourds, trying to remember the words. They knew of The Gourds, and further, the bass player, Pierre Robinet or something close to that, has played and recorded music with Rob Halverson, friend and musician from Austin. So, we pass along greetings here, Rob, if you're reading.
After the party, the bus headed back to town, where it dropped the lot of us in front of the Schlimmopuudik Huys--except for Cathy. The bus had to drive by our hostel anyway, so the driver agreed to drop her off rock star style. Double decker bus for one. Very nice.
The rest of us meandered a couple blocks up the road to O'Kelly's, a great Irish pub near the hotel. There I sat in a smoke-filled room full of music and talking and singing, mostly coming from wedding guests who were all growing very chummy with each other by now, until round about 3:30 in the morning. Just a fantastic time, so many happy people meeting each other and getting along, from entirely different worlds mostly, from Holland to Ireland, merely an hour's flight away.
And this was the pre party.
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