The Mirror Factory: Amsterdam

While I decide where to host my photos now that Flickr are demanding I cough up to be able to upload photos there, I figured I'd bung them here. And knowing me they won't end up anywhere else. I mean, it took me two months just to edit them. I think it was partly the notion that once the photos are done that's the holiday properly over and done with, the final nail in the coffin. But mostly laziness.

Where to go next?

(As always, click to embiggen. Then you'll be able to fully appreciate all my hard work and see where I used the clone stamp tool).

I spent a long time here.

Midge in an elevator

This remains my favourite photograph. I was just faffing about with the settings before boarding. This is my father's wife Wendy, pushing him in his wheelchair towards the plane.

We arrived on Koninginnedag (Queen's Day). There were a lot of people dressed in orange, the colour of the Dutch Royal Family.

A LOT of people.

Totally bagged meself a hat that'd been discarded on a bollard the following day, much to Wendy's chagrin!

Twas a bit windy.

The people. They never end.

There was some sort of rave going on in the bottom right-hand corner, under t'bridge. I arrive in Amsterdam, in my 20-somethings, on Queen's Day, just before the marijuana ban on tourists is due to be enforced, and there's a rave going on outside my hotel window. But I'm on a family holiday, so I merely spectate. And snap.

The music blasting out was of the 90s shitty Eurotrance quality favoured by Dutch youth, so took some comfort in keeping my distance from that.

Even the train station looks pretty ornate.

There's gonna be a lot of pictures of bikes. I warn you now.

DOGGIEEEEE! It looked right at me! As did many of the humanoids I took candid photos of. Oops.

WAR HORSE

Party remnants.

ALL ABOARD THE ANAL BUS

Rembrandt statue in Rembrant Square.

I'll have what he's had.

Well, I did warn you.

More WAR HORSE!

Yes, I saw pink elephants.

Grim oop norf.

Yep. Definitely spotted.

You love it

This made me snort bitterballen out my nose so for that reason you get it twice.

Amsterdam's Science Centre, NEMO, built to resemble a sinking ship. As viewed from the window of the hallway leading to my hotel room.

And again, from the room window.

Candid camera time

On the third day I suggested we go explore the Jordaan district.

Mainly because I wanted to see a leopard print bike.

I really guided us that way because I wanted to see that.

Humble. That's not quite the word for how it made me feel, but it'll do until I find the right one.

One of Amsterdam's traditional 'bruine kroeg' (Brown Cafes), deriving the name from the interiors which have been darkened from tobacco smoke. Not the weed. Or otherwise they'd be called Green Cafes. I'm literally figuring this out as I type this. I'm like some kind of muthafuckin' genius. I totally recommended whiling away a few hours in one by a canal, sipping away at 'jenever' - the efficacious schnapps-like gin. I had fruit cider. C'mon people, family holiday, pay attention.

The beautiful Vondelpark, home to the opulent national Film Museum. Where I plonked my weary ass and sat eating Bitterballen (I'm lucky I don't look like one now) while my dear Dad urged me to take pictures of the 'two geezers having it off'. (One was a lass with a short haircut). LOL.

No idea.

Dutch goffs!

Dutch crotch!

I was in Amsterdam about 4 days before I realised I hadn't taken any pictures of tulips. So where better than the Red Light District.

They have internetz in the 'dam!.

I made us walk ages to find this bridge I'd read about in one of the guide books. The name translate as 'Skinny Bridge'.

From Wikipedia:

A story told to tourists about the origins of the 1691 version of the bridge is that it was built by two wealthy sisters who lived on opposite sides of the Amstel river and wanted to be able to visit one another every day (and were presumably too busy, or not in good enough health, to go the long way round via another bridge, of which there must surely have been at least one). In one variant of the story the sisters, although wealthy, were not quite wealthy enough to afford a bridge of adequate width for general use and so built a very narrow bridge, hence its name. In another variant of the story the sisters' last name was Mager, hence the bridge's name (rather than from its narrowness).