Preface:

If you are traveling from London to Amsterdam, there is no better way than an overnight trip on the Stena Line, not only it’s comfortable, inexpensive and pleasant, but it also saves money you would otherwise spend on the night at a hotel.

After spending few days in Amsterdam I realized that there is a crucial piece of information every visitor should know – all of the online reviews for things to do, eat and see in Amsterdam are written while high. OK, maybe not all of them but a large part; definitely every one that I’ve read while lazily preparing for the trip at home. So just like you automatically add “in bed” to the Chinese fortunes, feel free to add “when high” to anything you read about Amsterdam. With this little secret in mind everything falls in place, things like “the best apple pie in the world” (when high), or “the funniest comedy club” (when high) now start making sense. Since I traveled as a responsible parent who wasn’t high (second-hand high doesn’t count) many of those things seemed a lot less stellar as some clearly euphoric reviewers have suggested. Yet I didn’t find it discouraging, although you had to be really really high to enjoy the aforementioned comedy club.

Face:

Amsterdam is awesome. At the first sight of canals and bicycles a visitor grabs the camera and doesn’t let go until the last-minute in the city (and not because it might be stolen).

Recently I had a chance to attend the Coterie Theatre’s “Science Fiction Triple Feature” with my only celebrity friend and a real theater critic Grace. Sitting in the same room with multiple theater critics I thought that I should try my hand in their craft. My review follows:

Her voice pierced the darkness- horrified, pained, disturbed. She rushed to the stage wearing something that was thought of as futuristic fifty years ago. Is that how they imagined us then? (I need to update my wardrobe). I couldn’t look away from the stage while She was there. I felt what She felt – the horror, pure animalistic horror of facing a bloody death in your own house. I saw the threat through Her eyes, I heard it in Her voice, I followed Her every move. Were there other people on the stage? Perhaps… She gripped my attention, all of it. Lights went out with Her final scream.

The stage became a medical office, this time She was a teacher struggling with the moral implications of Her decision. She did something out of compassion and now was facing the unintended consequences. I could see Her hurt, tears in Her eyes, Her voice was breaking up. Sometimes She had to turn away from the audience; Her shoulders slumped under the weight of Her conscience. I knew Her pain will stay with Her long after the main character drifts back to his child-like state.

She appeared on the stage once more, wearing some post-apocalyptic garb fashioned out of a burlap sack. She danced in the uneven light of the fake fire. I felt She wasn’t sure about the future. It was exciting but terrifying. Her world was only as big as the circle around the fire. The darkness covered what was left of the civilization – ruins, rusted metal, shorted out power lines. I knew she would make it; she had the passion and determination – something the new generation of humans would need to persevere.

I caught a glimpse of her in the hallway; a beautiful young woman happily smiling, all the pain and drama left resting on the stage until the next show. I smiled as well, for I have just seen the Actress.

Free pizza and ice cream were in my future.

I’d like to thank the Coterie for the great evening.

For a real professional review please check out Grace’s article.

Today, on April 22nd all progressive humanity celebrates the n-Th birthday of the Leader of the World Proletariat, founder of the USSR and the Communist Party of the Soviet Union Vladimir Illyich Lenin. Something like this would make a traditional headline in every newspaper in the USSR as recently as twenty years ago. For years Lenin’s likeness was everywhere, every classroom had a portrait, every school had a bust, every city had a monument or ten, and then there were countless pins, flags, medals, certificates, photos, paintings and other visual aids. On this picture I am posing with Lenin in the parade uniform which I had to borrow because I was too lazy to sew the badges onto my own. In my day, Lenin was not as revered as he was in years before, but we still had to read the stories about his childhood, his love for the common men, his wisdom, his humbleness, his bravery and genius. We didn’t care but it was something that had to be done. As we grew up he was growing up with us, from “Grandpa Lenin” to “Comrade Lenin”, always omnipresent, always watching us from every wall and every city square. Stories of his childhood were replaced by his works that we had to study and quote. Every respectable establishment would have all 55 volumes of his “Collected Works“,which were lovingly translated into every language known to man.We didn’t know about “Red Terror“, hunger, repressions, killings,murder of the Romanov family; people who remembered knew better not to discuss it, every mention of the horrors wiped out or edited to look necessary to establish and protect the new country. Just a kindly old man who cared about us.
No one knows how the world history would have turned out without Lenin. Probably the same. Lenin wasn’t the one killing, robbing, kicking out of the country, starving and raping. He was just issuing the orders.

His body is still out there as a morbid reminder of his genius, evil and determination, a lethal combination which affected billions of people in every corner of the world for generations to come.

httpvh://youtu.be/bvweq8NYsN0

 Delicious smell and delicate taste of smoked fish cannot be overstated. “Hot Smoked” fish is cooked by smoke, while “cold smoked” is cured by smoke allowing it to retain firm texture, natural fattiness and moisture, adding unbelievable smoky taste and golden skin. Smoked fish goes with everything: vodka or beer, baked potato, bread with butter, bread without butter, and then some more vodka or beer…..
Good enough for the last meal…