We interupt your regularly scheduled blogcast...

...for some not so important info. Yes, I will be blogging about my family's visit, but first, a side story.

Today began as any other day in Amsterdam: woke up, ate some nutella, dragged the bike out of the basement, and I was off to whatever adventures/mishaps the land of the Dutch had to offer.

Molly needed her tattoo touched up and I was going along as moral support and spectator. On the way there though, I decided a little sojourn in uncharted territory was fitting - this is only an extension of last night's venture into the Westerly unknown, during my late night run (weird I know, don't ask.) I head into the Jordaan and am quickly swept into a steady stream of traffic heading West. Before I realize that I have left the cocoon that is the Centrum, I am distracted by an Aldi's. Now, an Aldi's is not an impressive thing - not here, not in Bennington, VT. BUT, if you're a Segala, you possess a certain albeit forced, connection to Aldi's.

My Grandparents lived through the Great Depression and apparently never got over it. They probably have 2.5 - 3 times the amount of food in storage in their house for the 2 of them then we have for 4 active people, including a growing boy ("Hey Alex, what'd ya have for breakfast?" "Donuts." "Oh, what kind did you have?" "Um, one of each, except those lemon ones.") They also never had a lot of money, so they are always on the prowl for a good deal. I support that goal, there's no need to spend more money than necessary (this is why I drink alcohol that Laura pays for, duh) but, like everything else, you can go too far. Example: my Grandfather will drive to the Aldi's in Bennington, Vermont to buy vast amounts of sub par bananas, because, hey they are only 45 cents a pound, compared to Big Y, where they are 89 cents a pound. There is no use in pointing out the fact that Big Y is a 4 minute car drive, while Bennington is an half hour and in a totally different state on top of that; it doesn't matter. Grandpa is convinced; Aldi's is the place to go. So, when I realized that Aldi's were a German company and thus had stores in the Netherlands, I was amused - surprisingly enough I still had no desire to go to these Aldi's anymore than I do Vermont's. But back to this morning.

So, I see the Aldi's and I am nostalgic for home and Grandpa calling me just to tell me the price of bananas (and absolutely nothing else) and decide that when I have more time, I'm gonna go. Oh yay, Maria, you are a badass; the ideas your twisted mind brings forth!

Outside of the joy of finding an Aldi's in Amsterdam, I realize I have stumbled upon a residential area of lesser means. "Lesser means" here is not really an insult when you consider the canal houses I live near cost over 2.5 million Euro, the aforementioned apartment buildings are probably not cheap, but well kept, if uninspired. I also begin to notice an increase in Arabic store signs...and the fact that I just may be a minority. In comparison to the school children I pass, I give off that nice ghostly glow of uber whiteness, and I'm wearing white, just in case anyone mistakenly thought I had pigment. Anyways, I find myself in the Oud (Old) West. Oh cool! I've gotten out of the Centrum, I'm so integrated! Shortly there after, I'm in Bos en Lommer. All I know is that it translates as "Forest and..." who knows; there hasn't been a forest in this area in probably 400 years, and what good would it do me anyways? Noting the time, I head back in what I believe is an Easterly direction; all of a sudden, I'm in Westerpark? Now, without someone waiting on me, I wouldn't have been concerned at all, but that is not the current case. I eventually spy a tower that possibly resembles Westerkerk/Niewe Markt/Muntplein but I recognize it, so I basically head toward it, eventually coming out on my own canal. Score, Maria wins.

After the tattooing and a sorry attempt at school work, the 70 plus weather is calling me away. Abandoning the gym - only for today - for a longer bike ride, I decide to head back to the Aldi's.

Inside I feel as if all of us patrons are wandering a bit lost in this horribly set up, unappealing, and questionable warehouse. Browsing their extensive freeze case (AH, you kinda are slacking in this dept), I hear a loud ambulance siren cut short. In a city where cars pull U-turns at red lights or drive over the medians/tram tracks on a whim, I laugh at the fact that they would really pull such a low move as using their "authoritative power" to move traffic along. You don't deal with cops and such as much here as you do in America, but I still don't like authority figures; unless I am one, then it's ok.

Now, like many of supermarkets in Europe, they set them up so you go in through a gate and can only get out by going through the check out - after purchasing something. Well, no one is going to tell me I have to buy something, so I head back to the entrance to jump the turnstile (I've done it in AH) and see cops. I stop abruptly, because I tend to react to cops as if I was packing several unregistered weapons and at least a kilo of coke. Rest assured, outside of a traffic violation (on a bike) I have no reason to avoid the cops as much as I do. Though, 2 recent run-ins with the cops -both which were not essentially my fault - have increased my awareness. It takes but a moment to comprehend their presence, and oh yeah, that ambulance? It's here.

An old man, looking way too unhealthy to be out grocery shopping, appears to be having so chest issues, though he is sitting up and alert. My sympathies to the man of course, but I decide jumping/forcing my way through an entrance turnstile in front of 4 cops is a poorly conceived idea. Fine, Aldi's, you f'ing win, I'll buy something.

6 Euro later, I am the unwilling owner of Zuid Afrika vin and a box of liqueur chocolates. I'm sure the Aldi's people think I have a problem, but I'm cool with that. I clear out as the EMTS are rolling in the stretcher.

Armed with my alcohol, I manage to get back to Prinsengracht without a problem. I've visited an Aldi's, not got in any legal trouble, and I have wine and chocolates!

Now, truly my absolutely recounting of this near-adventure really ends here, but I decided to add a lovely little detail.

Many liqueur chocolates I've seen are very clearly marked: "Contains no alcohol." The inside of the truffle is often a gooey flavoring, as if they took the said liquor and boiled the ethanol out of it. For a moment, I guess I forgot I was in Europe.

I bite into a Raspberry brandy truffle only to be bombarded by a very real alcohol taste and a liquid center that assaults my chin and drips on my legs (thank God I'm not wearing pants!) (Many of you are giggling; yes I recognize the double entendre, why else would I include such an episode?) It's not enough liquor to burn, but its there. With about 15 more truffles and a borrel tonight, there may be no need for that bottle of wine.