Ruminating on a former life.

In Vondelpark. With my precious bike Rosie before it got stolen.

You guys London is brilliant, but I miss riding my bike down cobbled streets, and eating stroopwafels, and making strong filter coffee, and sitting in Vondelpark with a Heineken, and saying 'gezellig' and 'lekker', and being pet on the head by tall Dutch people, and gagging at the smell of haring stands, and going on canal boat rides, and finding creative ways to lock my bike to things, and dancing all night to up-and-coming Euro hipster DJ's at Paradiso, and always wearing converse, and good salads from Albert Heijn (and good cheese too), and Rooibos tea, and barbecues where everyone argues about the music, and fun nights at my friends' places trying to convince them not to put on Gangnam Style and failing, and telling Dutch people I speak Dutch and then start coughing, and always playing dog poo frogger on sidewalks, and all that pretty greenery, and trying not to hit tourists on my bike but then laughing hysterically in fear when I almost hit them, and spending hours trying to pronounce the Dutch 'g' just right and failing, and late-night kapsalon, and Heineken, and long summer bike rides down the Amstel feeling the grass on my legs, and day trips to the beach making fun of all the Germans, and eating ice creams in tall waffle cones (are they tall to be in proportion with the Dutch?), and living room dance parties, and trying to find karaoke bars but accidentally winding up in gay bars with gay porn on the screens, and going to festivals where everyone was so blindingly good looking it made my head hurt, and good cheese, and eating decent Asian food, and getting lost because everything looks the same but it doesn't matter because it's all so goddamn charming.

I guess what I'm trying to say is I miss Amsterdam.