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| Version | User | Scope of changes |
|---|---|---|
| Sep 19 2009, 5:06 PM EDT (current) | JamieEvans | 39 words added |
| Sep 19 2009, 5:30 AM EDT | Anonymous |
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In Venlo, a south-east Holland border town, the rain pelts down on the asparagus fields. Western Europe is suffering its worst summer for decades. Dutch and German TV stations show scenes of caravan and camping sites sinking into the mud. It's an eye-opener for us who have been taught to believe that British weather is always worse than anyone else's.
The Sunday afternoon gig is in a pub-***-brewery. And at 3pm, a time when English pubs are closed and dead [ in 1985], we launch into Can't We Be Friends? But the audience is very talkative which irritates Coops. He makes his stock anti-noise announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, the next tune, Groovin' High, will feature the bass clarinet. Not many people are familiar with this instrument. This is because there aren't many of them, few people play them and most people are talking too much most of the time to be able to hear them anyway."It's a long way, by Low Country standards,from Liege in northern Belgium, to Amsterdam,
slap in the
middle of the Netherlands. As the train rattles along, the landscape, housing and life-styles change gradually but markedly. "I like the Belgians," says Coops, drinking his Pils beer and stuffing down ham and cheese, doggy-bagged from the hotel that morning. "They're just like us. A nation of stroppy piss-artists who'd rather go down the pub than mow their rotten lawns." The straitlaced Dutchness, un-netted windows to show off their ubiquitous house-plants and dour furniture, takes over the view from the carriage window.I feel excited by the prospect of seeing Amsterdam again. We roll through the suburbs and as soon as we set foot outside the station, Coops decides he doesn't like it. "Junk food, noise, traffic and children. Appalling place, dear boy."
"But," I cajole, "there are lots of lovely paintings here - Rembrandts, Van Goghs - all the old and new Dutch masters." He's slightly mollified but grumpy. Our hotel is just off Leidsestraat, only a few minutes' stroll from the Bamboo Bar where we are booked for a couple of nights. We have both developed a craving for the delicious Dutch street snack, raw soused herring with chopped onions. But here in tourist-stricken Amsterdam we can't find any. It's all hamburgers, chips, mayonnaise, ketchup and imitation sate.
Top picture: Jamie and Coops in a sunset scene. Below: The Bamboo Bar used to be a great jazz venue but when I was in Amsterdam a couple of years ago it had become a noisy pop music craphole.
Continued on Low Country Life 4
