Just like Amsterdam except for the sodom and gomorrah.
It rained most of the time I was there, however the nightly curries at the Taj Mahal kept my spirits up. http://www.tajmahal.nl/
I stayed in the NH hotel as my usual abode the Karel V was full. This NH hotel harks back to the 80s. It is a quirky place - they have captions on the lift such as -
"Guess who you are going to meet in the lift today?".
I guessed and guessed - Ruud Gullit, Marco van Basten, Arjen Robben, Robin van Persie - but never got it right. It was always someone I didn't know.
They also praise their breakfast to the high heavens - apparently their "revolutionary breakfast concept" is second to none. I partook of the repast, just to check it out. What would you expect at a revolutionary breakfast? Bottles of whiskey on the tables? Attac pamphlets? Nothing of the sort - just the usual hotel frass.
It was in this hotel a couple of years ago that I was told the following story by a young Englishman. He had emigrated to Utrecht and his parents had driven over with the remainder of his stuff. They were staying in the NH. He told me that the 3 of them were at breakfast in the hotel, the mother placing her handbag under the table. By the time they had finished, the bag was gone. The Englishman was convinced that a drug addict had somehow sneaked in and robbed the bag, while they were enjoying their revolutionary breakfast. I asked him if he had seen anyone in the breakfast room apart from the waiters. He replied - "No". No other guests, just the waiters and Mum and Dad. I've been pondering over this for years - who stole Mum's handbag?
Keine Kommentare:
Kommentar veröffentlichen