Message Incoming from the Icy Waters of the North Sea

Hey hey, it’s the Ferro’s coming atchya for some more Mayonnaise eating, salty Liquorice devouring, clog wearing, ship sailing good times.  We’ve left Amsterdam for now, though Kat and I shall return, General MacArthur-style, to wreak havoc once more.  Our solitary night in this famously risqué city was reconnaissance, a precursor if you will, to our “proper” night on the town on our second, familyless visit in a few days.  We scouted the red-light district, the clubs, the bars, and selected a few choice shows to patronage.  Should be a hell of a time, we’re not planning on sleeping that night, at least until dawn, might even make some new friends.  Don’t count on photo’s though, cameras frowned upon in Amsterdam’s seedier areas.  That’s the future, though, you want to hear about the present.  Or past, as the case may be.

As I said, we left Amsterdam and sailed upcanal to Alkmaar, a very cute town with the usual assortment of neat houses, good cheese and large churches.  Most of our days are spent in the act of sailing, we generally arrive at our destination about four, after five to seven hours of sailing, just enough time to walk around and explore a bit before getting ready for dinner.  The good ship Naarden is home to seven seafaring souls.  My aunt Jospehine, uncle Rex and their children Amy (14), Ryan (11) and Alice (9) and Kat and I.  We previously had four more guests, aunt Helen, uncle Bill, cousin Andrew, but they left in Amsterdam for parts unknown.  The younger members of our intrepid crew make for a boisterous life at sea with never a dull moment.  Alive has taken to living on the roof of our vessel inside a doona, which has led to several near-decapitations as we pass under the very low bridges I mentioned earlier.  Ryan has also decided to see how close he can get to almost falling in the canal without actually doing so.  This in addition to dodging the pleasure boats, Dutch locals and large coal, grain and oil carriers that also ply the waterways with means there is rarely a dull moment to be had, despite our sedate pace of between six and ten kilometres per hour. 

I’m currently in Edam, of the cheese fame, and Kat and I will soon be visiting Gouda, also of the cheese fame, and Haarlem, of the black people in America fame, which I’m hoping has as many colourful pimps and barber shops as its stateside cousin.

  After that, a couple of nights to wreck up Amsterdam, and then a train to Munich for the star of our adventure, Oktoberfest 2010.  That, however, is a story for a different day.  My next transmission will most likely be from a dingy Amsterdam hotel room, with a killer hangover and several bruises from sources unknown.  Until then, get commenting below.  For now, Ferro’s out.