De Saluun, Leidseplein
Paul and I decided to walk to the Jordaan last night to check out the scene and hit some "brown cafes." We were curious to see what Jordaanians do after work on a Friday night. Interesting scene at one cafe where beat, traditional men (in 60's, maybe shopkeepers) stand at bar with beers while table of coifed, bejeweled wives smoke stinky Dutch cigarettes and sip their Heinekens from smaller logo glasses. Italian arias in Dutch language play on the jukebox.
After 5 cafes and about 6 beers each, we continue through the Jordaan, inadvertently falling in step behind 9 thirty-something Dutch girls. "Nine," I say cryptically to Paul, trying to make a play on the German word for "No" while also giving an indication of our current situation. Suddenly, the girls stop and turn around to face us. They regard us with a friendly, but serious proposition, “Excuse, me, but would you two mind being our bodyguards?” It’s a Dutch bachelorette party!
Through a quick and efficient negotiation, Paul somehow becomes their designated bag carrier (full of gifts for the bride-to-be). For performing this task and protecting their persons, we are promised a beer each when we arrive at our destination (either Rembrandtplein or Leidseplein — at this point, it's still undecided).
We end up at the "Bubbles" nightclub in Leidseplein where the young guys behind the bar fall into dance moves, clap their hands and "try to get the party started." Other than a small group in the corner, we are the only patrons here (it's only about 10PM, early by big-city clubbing standards). As Paul and I sip our Amstels at the bar, one friendly bartender gives us all a round of shots that taste of schnapps and fruit juice. He strikes up small talk with us, obviously interested in Americans (as many Dutch and other Europeans seem to be).
It's interesting talking to the girls. One cheers me in Dutch, "GROLST!" and asks me what the typical American cheer is. "Here's mud in your eye," I tell her.
"What is 'mud in your eye'?" She is visibly disturbed by the implied association. "I do not think I want 'mud in my eye.' I do not like 'mud in my eye.'" Damned literalists, these Dutch. I can't explain it to her. I wonder what it does mean?
Paul and I are part of their show. One girl tells me that it is tradition for a man to get on bended knee and ask the bride-to-be to dance. There is a fast song playing. We dance, they take pictures. Their memory is now complete.
Another girl asks if I "have a lot of girls in the US." I tell her no. She asks, "Oh, then you have a lot of boys?" I reply, "No, just one girl," showing her my wedding ring.
It's time to cruise. We bid our goodbyes. It is three kisses in the Netherlands - left cheek, right cheek, left cheek. We cruise.
