Sleep when you're dead

The weekend of July 18 Matt's cousin Lisa came to visit Amsterdam. Since she had been to Amsterdam before, we decided to show her Belgium. She's always wanted to visit Bruges, which just so happens to be mine and Matt's favorite Belgian town. Since Nicole has only been here for a few months, she was also down for some Bruges action. Also along for the ride was Matt's new American colleague, John. We planned everything on Friday night over drinks with Nicole and Lisa at our place and the next morning we picked up the car from Avis, got our crew and hit the road for what would be mine and Matt's third trip to the Venice of the north.

Though we tried to beat Tom-Tom's estimated travel time of 2 hours and 40 minutes, he won, as always. When we got to our hotel in Bruges at 1 o'clock, we were dismayed to discover that even though we had booked 3 rooms, they had no parking space for us. After a huge ordeal which ended with Matt parking illegally, yelling at the receptionist and then having to move the car again, we finally got parking at the massive underground garage under the main square. The town was packed for some sort of craft fair and then an open-air concert, so there was a line to get into the garage - you could only get in when another car left. Once parked, we were all sufficiently starved. We found the perfect place just in time - as soon as we grabbed a seat on the covered terrace, it started pouring rain and people started dispersing into the cafes. The weather was unpredictable - we kept putting on and taking off sweaters and sunglasses, and the restaurant kept turning on and off the outside heating lamps. We enjoyed our first Belgian beers of the day and some delicious in-season mussels with frites. Heaven.

The rain had died down by the time we finished eating, so we perused the town a bit until we decided we needed more beers. We went to a small little cafe to sample another brew, and Lisa wrote her postcards. After one beer, we decided we needed to be outside to enjoy the minimal sunshine - this is what happens when you live in northern Europe. You feel compelled to run outside if the sun is out, even for just the 5 minutes before it starts raining again. It's bad enough that it was mid July and I was wearing boots and a hoodie and still cold. We found a terrace with some sunshine, and drank very strong beers while playing a dumb version of the alphabet game that Matt and I made up (say the first word that comes to your head) and listening to the outdoor concert (a lady singing ABBA and Dolly Parton - this is Belgium, what do you expect?). After getting sufficiently inebriated, we went back to the hotel to relax for a few minutes before dinner.

Dinner was at the same place that Matt and I ate in Bruges with his parents and with Todd. Matt asked the waiter if he remembered us and he said, "Yes, I always remember annoying people." But he didn't remember us, or the beer he had recommended last time. We spent a few hours there, drinking and eating and talking, before heading to an Irish bar (I know, but they did have Belgian beers). Here we drank and danced and laughed until 2am.

We knew our hotel had a pool, so we all brought our swimsuits. Unfortunately, when the hotel clerk let us in at 2am and we were drunk and merry and asked if we could go in the pool, he said no. He probably saved our lives. Instead we got a bag of chips and sat in Lisa's and Nicole's balcony. We couldn't believe how long we made that Saturday last, and as Nicole philosophized, you can sleep when you're dead.

The next morning was rough. At first we were all doing pretty well, but then gradually as the day wore on we realized that was because we were still drunk. The worst was yet to come. I decided to have a beer at brunch, a "hair of the dog" thing, but it didn't do me any good. The ride home was much quieter than the ride in.

We arrived back in Amsterdam at around 2:30. Lisa was flying to Germany that evening and was in need of some relaxing time, as we all were. I parked myself on the couch, and my wonderful husband-to-be brought me a quarter-pounder w/ cheese to cure my hangover. He was so embarrassed biking back from McDonald''s with the bag that he brought a backpack to stuff our fatty wares in. We weren't dead yet, but it sure felt like it...