If the clutch of my friends permanently leaving Europe over the next couple of months had any reservations about doing so, spring has certainly sent her blessings. Up until ten days ago, signs of the floral season were masked by the persistent flurry, the daily downpour and temperatures that barely climbed above 40°F. You can tell that most of Europe has been dangerously sun-deprived when even a passing mention of open-toe weather sends us all into fits of euphoria.
But for my friends in Amsterdam, that bliss is too fleeting. The winters too long, too bitter. Negotiating cultural differences too wearying. Not even those bi-annual weekends in Paris were enough of a draw for them to stay put. Their expat chapter was ending. Time to pack up and decamp to California where weather and opportunity seem to operate in tandem.
So off we went to a city we first discovered five years ago (with tourist goggles and mini guide books) to spend a weekend with a couple as food obsessed as we are. Save for my coffee inquiry – what’s the Amsterdam equivalent to Télescope? – we didn’t plan a thing. We improvised, relied on their sharp recommendations and let whim…
