if it ain't dutch, it ain't much

or so my dutch buddy steve used to proclaim. i'm begining to understand. last night found me lost on the cobbles of Jordaan and Medieval Centre in the blue haze of Dutch Bizarre, the dark, hairy pride of Dutch Flowers coffeeshop. found a cool record shop and picked up Fahey (Yellow Princess), Sun Ra (It's After the End of the World), Sticks and Stones (Shed Grace), and a Silkworm ep (You Are Dignified) on which they perform acoustic (guitar, mandolin) covers of: Shellac, Pavemant, Bedhead or The New Year (cant remember which at the moment), Robbie Fulks, and Nina Nastasia. at the counter i found fliers for this and a four fucking day Harry Smith festival (24 Feb-27 Feb) which also happens to be the weekend of my birthday. i was digging this city with it's bakeries, canals, coffeeshops, buildings leaning to and fro,and cyclists (there is nothing more sexy to me right now than a girl on a european-style cruiser) and now i see they have a goddam Harry Smith festival going on! have i found my Eden? tell me, what better gift could i give myself than an extended stay in Amsteradam that culminates in a tribute to this guy?

expatriotism never smelt so good . . . .