Up at six and write a bit. Then at seven notice that the sky is blue and the sun is rising, so I race outside over to the Singel with the idea of taking some more pics like those I got last year over on the Oudezijds Voorburgwal when the water was like a mirror. Alas, what is not present this morning but is also required is a dead calm.

Still, a nice day, and no more whinging from me about it being too hot, as it's finally cool enough that I need my coat again. So at nine I finish writing the tale for last Monday and head for the Internet Cafe to email it. Gesloten. Closed tight. OK, I'm now picking up on the pattern. Their sign says they open at seven, but the morning after a holiday they sleep in. Hell, after Queen's Day, they slept in for a day and a half.

But now I know they have a sister cafe just about thirty meters west on Nieuwendijk, so I head over there. The door's unlocked, so I go in and tell the guy behind the counter I want to connect my laptop. He says they're closed. I ask what time they open. He switches to English and repeats that they're closed. Hey, dammit, I understood him. But it's a game I can't win in Dutch, so I ask him in pidgin English, "What hour you open?" Ten.

Here's an interesting relic in an otherwise pretty much stripped alley. The wall it's on is solid concrete, but they worked around this representation of "Three Old Hams" and preserved it. Note the date:

The highlight of the day is walking at noon over on Haarlemmerstraat all the way to the post office to get some stamps. Then back for a stop at the Marokkaanse place, where I start by closely examining his shelves of various foods from the other side of the Mediterranean. I find white mustard seeds at about half the price of Hooy's and then find the black mustard seeds that I couldn't find anywhere else in Amsterdam. I give a cry of delight and grab them, which gets the attention of the shopkeeper since while I was shopping all the other customers departed.

Since I have them to myself, I venture to explain in Dutch that as they can hear, my Dutch is even worse than my French. They do not contest this assertion, so we continue in the latter language.

This time we get to know each other a little bit and establish that the reason they haven't seen me for eleven months is that I do not live here. I'm from San Francisco but like to spend May in Amsterdam.

I notice that the boss is training the new assistant well, because he's quick to suggest additional items beyond those I select. I hold off for now, not wanting to let him have his way with me on just our second date, but I know I'll be a pushover next time and buy all kinds of stuff.