48 Hours of A'dam Stereotypes, or Maria and Laura are reunited in Europe

After an enjoyable Friday evening at the van Gogh and a local cafe, I eagerly awaited the early morning arrival of Ms. Daingerfield. Shortly before 7 AM, we were joyfully - and loudly - reunited in the lobby of Prinsengracht. We quickly settled in and after probably waking up most of the first floor, we went back to sleep.

At noon, we met Kristen and her visiting friend, Em at the Pancake Bakery for a delightful meal, in which it was deduced that every life situation can be improved by the application of powdered sugar. We cruised the Noodermarkt and then met up with Molly at the Botantical gardens.

That evening, we prepared a romantic meal of gnocchi - Maria cooked, Laura videotaped. A little Dane Cook and a Nip/Tuck episode later, it's just like home.

We head to Rembrandt Square around 21:00 to meet up for some adventures. Picking a bar is worse than going on a blind date; no one has any preferences, or at least, won;t just come out and demand them. So and so wants to watch the Madrid v. Madrid game, but the bar listing it is currently showing a France v. who knows rugby game. One place is crowded; oh wait, it's Saturday night, every place is crowded. In one possibility we would be the only women - isn't that what some of you want? All I want is a drink that is not beer and is less than 8 euro.

We end up in a cafe, and I initiate a conversation that proves to be foreshadowing.

"What song would a locale have to play that would encourage you to leave?"

...And I'm talking bad. I tend to be pretty opinionated on music (yeah, and everything else) and often find myself trying to understand what the f the Europeans are thinking when they make club playlists. My votes for tonight include "Every time we Touch" and recent Gwen Stefani songs.

In the continuing epic to find a bar, Molly votes for "Club Cafe Smokey;" most likely because of the adjacent sister coffeeshop with the same name. Drink prices are alright, and when we first get there its not too crowded. People are smoking inside alot (weed and cigs) which only aggreviates my fastly developing cold.

The nights soundtrack commences with a large amount of Justin Timberlake's most recent album, some Sean Paul, and then it hits...M.C. Hammer. When I hear "can't touch this" start, I am standing at the bar, gesturing my dislike across the room to my table.

We then get the bright idea to request shitty songs. First order; "Call on Me." We're not sure the request was understood, but oh yes, "Call on Me" starts, we scream, as usual. Continuing in the amazingness of shitty music, out of nowhere it happens "Cuz every time we touch..." More screaming. The rest of the night is a mess of more JT and AKON.

We meet more Manchester men and other parts of England (we attract them like flies, its awesome) including a pretty decent looking guy who tries to make eye contact several times, but I am too lazy to socialize. As usual though, we make lots of new friends. By midnight, its packed, and security is harassing up to check our coats and leave. On principle, we leave and after a debate about more partying, Laura and I walk home in the pouring rain, only to crash joyfully into bed.

Sunday was less eventful; I got us lost on the way to the Rijks, we cruised the Red Light District and had INDIAN! Which I had been saving my first trip to share with Laura.

Upcoming adventures: A chartered canal tour, a rainy day diversion for stir-crazy kids like L-Dog, and the Bible Museum (really not joking).