Food for the Body and for the Soul

It wasn’t in the stars for us to see a concert in Amsterdam. We showed up at the Concertgebow at 11:55 for the 12:30 PM free concert only to find a mob of people and no tickets left. Clearly, we had to be there at least an hour before the start of the free tickets’ distribution at 11:30 AM.
Oh well, that was that. I was there more for the experience than for the concert.
So instead, we headed to the Van Gogh Museum around the corner.
I last went to the Van Gogh Museum 40 years ago, when his paintings were packed into several small rooms in an old building. The paintings benefited from moving into their new home. The Sunflowers really touched me for the first time here.
Van Gogh’s painting are so joyful and full of love and life, it’s hard to connect them to their tragic creator. As if they were the opposite of the Dorian Grey’s portrait: they sucked the joy out of the man who painted them, draining the life out of him into themselves, and killing him in the end.
For dinner, we went to the fabulous Vinkles, where the star of the show, an amuse-bouche presented as a white chocolate ball filled with some liquid, comprising alcohol, clam juice, and other unidentified fluids, was served to us in an oyster shell.
The dinner was followed by an evening stroll along the canals, which would be magical if it weren’t for the rowdy revelers crowding the pleasure boats floating down the canals.
Still, in the quiet interludes between the noisy boats, the brightly lit windows of the dollhouses lining the canals revealed their secrets and architectural delights to the voyeurs on the ground.
Kenny relented and said the city was pretty, just didn’t touch him. It does touch me greatly, grabs me. And I am sure, that’s not because of the wafts of pot smoke hovering over the city.


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