Pearls of Wisdom and Foolish Mutterings

Hampsterdam

Silly me. Apparently, I have been sadly misinformed. All this time, I've been saying Amsterdam, when I should have been using the correct pronunciation: HAMPSTERDAM. Aiden and Olivia, my 6 and 4 year old granchildren, came to see me last night and they were quick to point out that the nifty houseshoes I brought back for Aiden have the wrong name on them. They are the cutest little shoes you ever saw, shaped like wooden shoes, red with the royal crest embroidered on them in gold and the name Amsterdam across the top above the crest. Aiden wanted to know why they misspelled Hampsterdam on his shoes.

Here is a recap of the conversation:

Aiden: Mimi, you said you went to Hampsterdam.
Me: No, it really is named Amsterdam. Maybe you misunderstood me.
Olivia: Well, maybe, but I don't think so. I think you went to Hampsterdam.

They said it with such conviction, they had me wondering before long. Maybe it really was Hampsterdam, after all.

Wherever I went, I met a few really nice fellows in Dam Square. I had my photo made with them. Yesterday, I had the photo of the first one (the snappy dresser in a yellow suit and really white teeth), today I've changed my default picture to the one showing me with the second one. I'm sure you all recognize him due to his amazing crime fighting capers. Yes, that's right. I met Spiderman in Hampsterdam. Really, what more could a girl ask for? Batman was there, too, along with Darth Luke, I am your father Vader, but I didn't get my picture made with them. I couldn't stand around all day getting pictures made with Super Heroes and Super ANTI-Heroes. I had places to go, souvenirs to buy, money to blow.

But, I had the most fun of all with this guy:


My own personal Super Hero. He has incredible super powers, really useful ones like agreeing to carry my backpack when it got too heavy with the weight of all the souvenirs and surprising me with the idea to go to Brussels for the day. Oh, and a really important one - the abilty to snatch me from the jaws of death every time I didn't pay attention and wandered into the bike path in front of scads of speeding Dutch people on their way to God-only-knows-where. He also has a very keen eye. He's the one who spotted this clever sign and pointed it out to me.




I told you those Dutch people were a no-nonsense type.

Speaking of the Dutch people, here's a rather interesting little side-story. One night during our stay, our little group was sitting in the bar at the hotel recounting happenings of the day. One of our guys, Mike, had struck up a conversation with the concierge a bit earlier in the day and found out that President Obama had stayed at our hotel at some point prior to the election. Okay, that was kind of interesting, but that's not the good part. Mike gets up, rushes over to the concierge and comes back with a postcard. The postcard was from Obama, sent to the hotel after his stay. The message was this:

Dear Dutch People,
Keep up the good work!
B. Obama

Dear Dutch People?? Okay, well at least he sent a card.