Marcel's Creative Exchange
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TripAdvisor Reviews Marcel'S Creative Exchange - Boutique Hotel Amsterdam
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... so got them. After the farm we headed to one of the few remaining authentic windmills; the Riekermolen. This was the center of a competition as to who would live in it. It's a shame it wasn't spinning today. We finished by going over Magere Brug the skinny bridge, this bridge lights up at night with over 1200 lights across it.
Most of the day we had been riding it had been spitting lightly or was just a bit windy but it was a pleasant ride. By the time we got back to ...
... Finally made it back and fell into bed for a quick nap.
Woke up at 6pm with the munchies from hell. As we are still well stoned we decide to opt for the hotel restaurant and what a brill choice that was. Asparagus, endive and truffle salad, pea and broad bean salad, zucchini fritti, spaghetti fruit de mer, goats cheese ravioli, rack of lamb and tiramisu. All washed down with a fab Chianti.
And this was just the first ...
... we walked back to Central station (I must check the KMs to that place as it seems like at least 3) and we did a one hour boat ride. Bruce hasnt been keen to do this, but as we had time and could think of nothing else pressing to do, we did that.
It was a pleasant hour, the boat uses an electric motor and seems to glide along the canals. But, we had seen everything all before in our endless walks around this city. The benefit was the commentary with ...
... there, they were already bloodshot) and approached the gate counter to request an exit row seat from the KLM agent. To my delight, I was granted an exit row seat on one condition - that I was willing to help people. Oh, they also mentioned that I had to be able to speak English. I told the nice lady that I would be happy to help people off the plane if needed. She quipped back jokingly, "and you'll be the last one off, right?" By then I was smiling and maybe ...
... my trip, which, I suppose, is fitting for a city in 'the Low Countries'. Holland is never somewhere I had aspired to visit and back in the late 90s my only contact with Dutch people was the obnoxious couple with whom Susan and I shared a safari jeep in Tanzania, the male of whom kicked me in the head with his size 11 boot in a fit of pique. At the end of that trip we were in transit in the capital for 8 hours, but as it was snowing and we ...