Thursday, October 29, 2009
Sinterklaas and the Black Petes
I'm going to Amsterdam for my 30th birthday.
It's not that I buy into the hype about turning 30. Is hype the right word? Maybe not. More accurately, I'm not particularly intimidated by the idea of being 30. It's kind of a shame that I won't have a 2 in front of my age anymore, but more due to nostalgia than anything else. Plenty of my friends are over 30, and I haven't noticed anything scary happening to them. Though I have noticed that lately I derive great satisfaction from filling out any form that asks for my age. Twenty-nine! Still 29, damn it! But, in my head, I've been 30 for awhile. It's a side effect of planning everything months and months in advance.
Which brings us back to Holland. It's going to be a quick trip: my birthday is Tuesday 11/17, and I'll be back at work on Thursday. The point isn't really to see the sights. The point is to do something crazy for my birthday, because why the hell not? When a certain band announced a show in Amsterdam the day before my birthday, I was tempted. But when they announced a show an hour or so away in Eindhoven on the day itself, that decided it. A few days' vacation, and a memorable farewell to my twenties? Sign me up.
The plan is to meet up with some friends on that Saturday. In, um, Milan. Then on Sunday, P and I will fly to Amsterdam. Two awesome things are happening on Sunday about which I had no idea when this trip was booked. First of all, Andrew Bird is playing at Melkweg that night. Secondly, Sunday morning is when Sinterklaas arrives in Amsterdam on a boat from Spain, with his six to eight black men.
Even if we don't make it to the waterfront in time for the actual arrival, I figure we'll be in time for residual merriment. And souvenirs. Oh please, let there be souvenirs.