Guess Who's Coming (and paying) for Dinner

I'm writing this from a communal computer in the back of the lobby of the Pulitizer Hotel where my mother (and by invitation, moi) is staying. Fueled by guilt by my blogger neglience (and the fear of being charged), I write with speed.

Wednesday at 6:00 AM I awake to a phone call from my father who asks if I've met my mother yet, realizing the time, I come to the conclusion that I missed my alarm which would've sent me on my way to meeting her upon her arrival to Amsterdam. I set off on my bike instead to her hotel, the sun taking as slow a start as I have. I arrive almost at the same time as she does, haphazarding locking bike as she gets out of her cab to greet me as I hand her tulips. That day the weather proved to be temperamental and unpleasant, my mother's yellow umbrella appearing more handy than just cute. We went to the Anne Frank House (which I enjoyed more than I thought I would), took a boat tour and went to two musuems (the Van Gogh and the Rijks).

The next day was the former day's guilt-ridden counterpart, compensating for the troublesome weather with an almost overzealous stream of sunlight. My mother, though almost always a fan of outdoor seating, opted for a shaded half-indoor table. Events: walk around Spui, Rembrantplein, more boat tour (can't even remember)

Anyway (I'm totally speeding through this shit now) we also went to the Keukenhoff (garden with tulips and shit, an hour away from the city). It's exactly what you'd expect and a dash of international overload. We've gone out to cafes and restaurants for every meal and snack (WONDERFUL) and have only had a few spats (more or less).

Will provide more later!