The World Press photo exhibit was well worth it. There are some truly amazing shots included and I almost cried a few times. You know the pictures are good when that happens.
And the House of Bols. Well. The tour part itself was pretty interesting. It involved the history of the distillery and Genever itself, a room where you could smell all of their liquors and try to identify the flavour and pick your favourite (I liked the Blue Curacao and the Parfait Amour) and another where they walked you through all the basic ingredients without, of course, giving specific quantities or mixes. And because they've been making spirits since 1575 there's old account books or sales notices tucked away in the odd corner, not to mention the piece by one of Rembrandt's students that was given to the family to pay off a debt.
And then, of course, we come to the part where they give you booze. The price of admission covers one cocktail and two shots. I got a Mai Tai 'cause I know I like those. The cocktail glass was big, which normally I love. But the first sip? WHOOOOO!!!! The first thing that went through my head was "Well this is a kick you inna teef cocktail!" I finished most of it. And then I had two shots! I tried the Jonge Genever and the Blue Curacao. The next thing I noticed, of course, was the fact that I was most definitely tipsy, probably close to barely drunk if not juuuust over the line. This was mainly noticeable because while not actively weaving or stumbling, my brain could tell that my balance was not entirely up to usual standards. The other contributing factor was the fact that I was babbling at myself in my head. And I was reminded yet again why I dislike being anywhere near drunk. I don't like it when most of my brain works except for one or two parts which just got cold cocked. The working parts get incredible frustrated with myself, and in this case most of it was working. I'm just very very glad that I wasn't drunk enough to get the headache that usually comes five minutes after the alcohol kicks in.
I ended up rambling at myself most of the way back to the train station. The first thing that wandered through my head was "Kick you inna teef. That's a Pratchettism. I wonder how many other people wander through life with Terry Pratchett quotes as part of their everyday thought process and their daily language?" Then I started to analyse the Genever. It's got a crisp, clear flavour which would probably mix very well with most other alcohols. Reminds me a bit of Vodka, but not as harsh. When I was telling my mum about it I said "Think of it like this. Vodka, as a spirit, is very Russian. Genever is very Dutch." That's a bit simplified but basically what it boils down to. The next thing I noticed was what always happens when I'm drunk or tipsy, same as the headache. I started getting draggingly tired. Like, sleepy while walking to the point of not seeing clearly tired. So I went to Starbucks. Thank God for coffee. At that point I'd picked up my dinner so I finally got on the tram and headed back to the train station.
The day ended with a very nice chat with a fellow at the Hilversum station about Dutch history and the fact that I didn't have a rich Dutch boyfriend or girlfriend yet. It was highly entertaining and a good end to the day.
Oh, and I got a new camera.
Ttfn
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