AMSTERDAM

The wind seems perpetual, and as usual, I’ve picked the best time of the year to visit: cold and rainy.

I like rain, but for touristic purposes in hasty journeys it’s not as pleasant as it is with tea on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon.

High expectations in the suitcase… I should have known better. Expectations are highly priced these days.

The canals are a near-endless maze and are content to confuse and disturb you.

Never mind, after all there are women for sale in tacky shop windows and handily narcotics on the way.

Flat countries are always good for walking and for having the horizon as a clear destination.

It always puzzled me how some countries, even rich or bearing glorious pasts, weren’t able to develop their own original, and complex cuisine. It is as if thousands of years weren’t enough to measure your culture up to the kitchen. Not a total fiasco, though. However, it is always reassuring to know that there is an Italian Restaurant just around the corner.

There is no shame in living by the glories of dead artists if you do it gracefully.

And we must always give merit stars to a place which has a museum with real cats in it.