Travel day! Gathered up my stuff and began making my way to Gare du Nord where the Amsterdam train begins it’s journey and mine. The day before had been pretty active with visit to the Rodin museum. The sculptures out in the huge garden and strong and sexy. The Thinker has a special place surrounded by beautifully trimmed greenery. We’re it not raining off and on I would have just sat down in that garden and stared. The indoor exhibit featured little clay studies and sketches and smaller scale bronzes. There is nude of Balzac with his big belly completely shameless and unafraid. I liked it a lot. It spoke to me.

After Rodin I returned to Notre Dame to enter the cathedral. I shelled out a handful of Euros and lit candles for my friend Nancy, her mom, ad for my mom. The rose windows were just spectacular when the sun would come out now and then.

A lunch of onion soup and a couple glasses of wine and then, Montmartre, and Sacre Coeur. Wandering around those places. I felt like I was a character in that lovely old film, The Red Balloon. It was heavenly.

Next morning I rose early, ate well packed my bags and hit the bricks. I tried so hard to be thorough, and despite that effort I managed to leave my power adaptor, the one lent to me, at the hotel. Didn’t realize it till waaaay too late.

Boarded the train and had an awkward moment be cause I just got on and sat down. I didn’t stop to think that seats might be assigned. They were, and that Spanish lady and her three young daughters were happy to make clear that I had screwed up. The youngest daughter, maybe 8 years old, all deep brown eyes and long shiny black pony tails asked to see my ticket. She had clearly been watching train conductors conduct business. I presented her the ticket, with a reassuring smile to the mother, and the little girl examined it and told me that my assigned seat was in the next car. I thanked her, grabbed my stuff and thought through the crowded aisle to my proper place.

As we got underway the real conductor came by, checked tickets nodded and left. whereupon I leaned back and fell right to sleep. Got to Amsterdam about 4:00 PM and went straight to the Hotel. It was raining and again. Went to a little restaurant and had some onion soup and a couple,of Heinekens. That beer went down really easy.

I then began exploring as the sun was going down. Wandered up toward the royal palace. All I had for a map was a placemat from the restaurant. Saw a tour group and heard the guide say something about the Red light district, so I followed at a discreet distance.

Got to the red light district and was surprised at how unsleazy it was. There was no shame, no awkwardness. Girls in windows were offering themselves for sale only steps away from nice restaurants, and very shiny sex shops. There were couples and groups of women, and several tours and the guides spoke very openly about the prostitutes, and the prices they charge, and the services they offer.

The only fly in the ointment was the groups of drunken young men roaming around in a cloud of whiskey laced testosterone. They reminded me of my younger self on liberty in one port or another looking to get stewed, screwed and tattooed.

Got tired if the red light district and went looking for some grub. Saw a little stand selling frites and in homage to the late great Vincent Vega I ordered some frites with mayonnaise on them. That was dinner. Wandered back to the hotel but stopped at an Irish pub for a couple of pints of Dutch beer. Fell asleep and dreamed of Paris