popped lung 22.06.06

shrouded in a plume of orange smoke, glowing with the red light of a robot, emersed in veins of canals-not for shooting up, but for boating- lying just right of the centre of the world and full of people that remind me of bergies, lies the netherlands. hell, who ever thought of the netherlands. it's debaucherous, bacchanalian and full of examples of your primary school sex ed teacher's hold up cards. but this little land mass aint all sex, drugs and heineken beer. it was once a former empire, setting sail for unknown lands, raping, pillaging (or maybe not), and plying its trade in goods. its a stewing pot of great architecture, beautiful woman bicycles, flippin bicycles, a vibrant street culture, slap tjips(frittas), plateau toilets which simply are unpleasant and words like 'asheblief'.

if you were a kid that got on your mom's nerves, she'd tell you to 'go play on the highway'.in this particular instance you'd be run over by a car.but in holland it's more exciting, for you could firstly be panneled by a tram and left looking like a snackwedge machine left its marks on you, then with grill marks and limp arms a bus will rip half of you apart dumping you in the car lane looking like a half eaten cheese blintze. then while you find half yourself leopard crawling along the vehicle lane a car will leave a portion of you splattered on its windscreen and embedded in its tread. now looking like your mom's apple sauce, thinking your'e closer to home, some crazy loony on a bicycle, yes a bicycle will probably run into you ringing that nasty little jingle bell to tell you to get the f*ck outta the way, and this'll be done without the hint of slowing down. thanking goodness up until now i have survived, its now only the raising and lowering of the canal bridges that i need to overcome-bridges that could leave me pulped and ready for canning.

rotterdam was first my port of call. its an amoeba of differing architectural forms and designs. if you can sketch it on a serviette, the 'dammers' will build it. it's not the prettiest city and if it was my daughter i'd probably put her up for adoption, but wow, she has a great energy. i did get excited by the masses on their bicycles and there's an array of colours too as long as its black. there's a fortune of urban regeneration taking place, it's hard hat territory so watch your back cos you could be skewered by scaffolding. the port is the largest in europe, criss crossed by tension and structural steel bridges. its a humble city and home to one of the greatest architects, Rem Koolhaas. it has tiny houses, with on street glazing, and if you took a stroll at night through suburbia it'd be like window shopping. while here the city was awash in orange. orange always seemed to me like the colour nobody digs,its the sorta colour that gets picked last when choosing a colour for a wedding retinue, but the dutch just seem to make it awesome. all of a sudden you just wanna eat the dutch thinking they were these nutritious glowing oranges.

after 3 nights rotting in the dam, i jumped ship and headed for Den Hague. it sounds so poncy, and i suppose it is. but the air of snobbyness is crusted in sh*t too. its not a well knitted city. with its hotspots here, there and past the train station. the local fare was haring. it's raw herring jammed into a roll and sprinkled in onion cubes and im a fan.the haring aint for sushi eaters. its the next level. only bowels clad in pre-rusted steel will endure, just ask me.
as i wandered the streets of den hague i saw surf boards and i thought, 'what the f*ck'.the lady behind the bar who hucked me so much i nearly tripped over my fallen ear, told me she was a surfer and i thought, 'what the f*ck', i saw the map-the hague is bounded on one side by a big blob of blue and i thought , 'what the f*ck'. so i caught tram 11 and there it was the powdery brown beach of holland, its copacabana, its tequila sunrise, its pina collada. and all i could think of was, 'what the f*ck'. i chilled on the beach one sunset-just me myself and my wine gum joob joobs. did i get drunk? i'll let my liver tell you.

i left the hague one morning after my cornflakes and shawowee i landed in amsterdam an hour later. its world famed, asphyxiated in its own billows of sweet smelling herb and nestled on reclaimed buttressed land. its full of dykes and rainbow flags-its the gay capital of the netherlands. the city is a segment, veined in canals-a graveyard for old bicycles. its flipping large and i know it. its overwhelmed by tourists eager for the freedom to hit the ol' binger-i didnt give a sh*t, i can buy it from the BP-its more fun to steal marbles than to be given them- pork a pro and drown in heineken beer. the beer they serve has large head, normally i'd argue, but hey the folk are willing to serve. it really is a beautiful city, steeped in history, awash in great art and culture. anne frank was there, in bronze, nestled among the flowers of sorrow. rembrandt was light and dark, affluent and debaucherous and a night watch he did paint, but he died a pauper, blowing his loot like he owned it. van Gogh wasn't trained but he was a genius, a loony, an earless wonder. one of the great cities of the world and i was there, man

ah utrecht, my final stop and probably my most favoured in the netherlands. it's not a city and its not a village. it fits in to its place like a frog in a sock. i stayed in this hostel in which everyone seemed to work there and there was asmuch nosh as you could feed on. utrecht's canal lined streets, its cobbled stoned walk ways, its vicious cycle riders, its little bunny named miffy, its gerrit rietveld gem, and its rem koolhaas master piece all excited me like a beetle in a dung ball. its all happening in utrecht and im loving it. it's a student town, with an expansive university, littered with buildings by Meccannoo and OMA. its full of squares and genteel folk.
i visited the gerrit rietveld schroeder house and it totally took the magic carpet from under my feet. i was absolutely blown away by this wee piece of modern architecture. i'd seen it in tacky old library books and on the grimy over head projector,but now i got to feel it(thats a lie,we weren't alowed to touch anything, it was all rubber gloves and plastic bootys),to experience it and wow what a building.its a true building of the machine age with its sliding moving walls and its glass bottle ability to allow for light. the way the house unfolds, unpacks and reconfigures itself would leave the Transformers' looking as impotent as an 80 year old wearing tight jeans.
gerrit wasn't trained as an architect, but as a furniture designer. while other kids were playing with wooden horse drawn carts, gerrit was playing with lego.he was given the task of creating a house that'd look like a parrot amongst pidgeons. it's pure genius.

while in utrecht i watched holland battle the argentines and the city was awash in orange. there were no celebrations but all were drowning in half pints of heineken. from this wikeed experience, its become known to me that the dutch are a liberated bunch for they BBQ on the sidewalk, they walk the streets and canal lined terraces without fear, they leave their bikes along the garden wall and it chooses to stay there. they have a public transport system-who needs a car?. they are a happy bunch and they arent even on drugs.

what a country and it felt good again to flash my pearly whites at someone and to receive a string back.

anyhoo oh far flung ones,another journey and another story for the grand kids. im a wee bit in arears with the blogging but soon the rivers will flow and don't forget youre not gonna win the lottery if you stop scratching.
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