It's A Small World After All

So, Thursday night in Amsterdam, we’re sitting on the patio, drinking wine, watching the boats go by, and either doom-scrolling (me, Twitter) or Facebook lurking (Carol, er, Facebook), when Carol notes, “Oh, Kurt Dupuis is here in Amsterdam too.”

Kurt’s a really good guy from our neighborhood, who I probably haven’t seen in nearly seven years, since Torie aged out of the vaunted and beloved Mount Vernon Park Gators swim team.  The father of three boys, Carol and I got to know Kurt because they also swam for the Gators.  I had always enjoyed talking with Kurt, he’s an interesting fellow with a good perspective on life.

So, fortified by wine and tickled with the idea of getting together with a friend from home, I said, “We should try to meet for drinks.”  Other Gator parents commented positively on the idea, and Kurt said, “we should make that happen.”

We progressed the conversation from Facebook comments to Facebook messenger to cell phone texts and planned to meet the next day.  Our Tours by Locals guide of a week ago, Bart, had kindly sent me a lengthy five page document of suggested craft beer bar, gin joints, restaurants, and other fun spots.  

(Editor: How come “gin joints” are always called gin joints?  Blogger: It was part of an Appropriations Bill that became law after Prohibition.  Editor: You’re making that up!  Blogger: Am I?)

One of the bars on the list offered 14 beers on tap and over 200 varieties of bottled beer.  Café Gollem, which bills itself as the first craft beer place in Amsterdam, opened in 1974, which makes it the second most famous thing to happen in 1974.

Bart’s comment in his document on Café Gollem stuck with me from the first time I read it: “14 beers on tap, 200 in bottles, I can stay there all evening!.

In looking at the map on my iPad, I tried to find something about half way between the half hour walk between Kurt’s hotel and our Canalboat.  

(Editor: You are so proud of staying in a Canalboat that you are referring to it as “our!”  Blogger: Guilty!)

So we agreed to meet at 6:30.  Café Gollem (It's not named after the Lord of the Rings character -- different spelling) was a hole in the wall.  The other times we had passed it, the place was packed.  We lucked out, however, as 6:30 was early enough that we were able to get an available table up the half flight of stairs in the back.

Kurt and his lady friend Shannon, who, like Kurt, is a musician in the Marine Corps Band (“the President’s Own”) showed up a few minutes later and, after getting drinks, the four of us fell into deep and satisfying conversation, getting caught up on travels, life, and kids.  

Carol and I hit it off with Shannon immediately, and we talked and drank and talked (more talking than drinking).  Sometimes all four of us talked, and sometimes the menfolk and women fell into separate conversation.  

(Editor: Menfolk?  Blogger: It just feels like the right word in this instance, especially in the Old World.  Editor: I will allow it, but just this once.)

The Netherlands was Master Gunnery Sargent Dupuis’s final performance in the military.  He, and his amazing trumpet, were retiring after 30 years (given his youthful looks, Kurt must have joined the Marines when he was 40!).  Shannon regaled us with stories from this European tour; she plays about five different unusual instruments. 

I noted that I had thought of becoming a professional musician but the main thing deterring me is that I have less musical talent than anyone else in the world.  (Editor: So that’s a bit of an impediment.  Blogger: All my music teachers whilst growing up seemed to think so).

After more than ninety minutes, we bade a fond farewell (punctuated by hugs and selfies).

It’s huge fun to get together with an old friend unexpectedly on a different continent, and it is always fun to make a new friend too.