I drafted an extremely detailed and descriptive version of this post, but my editor felt it was long-winded and only mildly entertaining. So, here are a few of the highlights of my European adventures from the early 1990s. We lived in a castle about three hours outside of Amsterdam, first as students and then for me as part of the faculty a few years later. I saw 63 churches, toured 22 museums and took approximately 123 train rides, all of which had value, but the memories below seem a lot more interesting looking back.

Thanks to anyone who reads this for indulging my trip down memory lane…

• Cafe Vink is the only bar in the world where to this day I can walk in and they would know my name. It was a six-minute walk from where we lived, and needless to say, we spent a lot of time there. At the end of the semester we told Jos (owner/operator) that we’d stay in touch; he smiled and said that no one ever does. We drunkenly but politely disagreed, poured our own last beers, and haven’t spoken to him since.
• My work study job was chopping wood. Pete was the non-English speaking groundskeeper/surrogate grandfather at the castle who could roll a cigarette with one hand and loved to tell stories we couldn’t follow to save our lives. Though small in stature at 5’ 2”, he could fix anything as well as drink everyone under the table. Pete passed away a few years after we were there.
• If there is a New England Patriots fan club in Holland I am taking credit. During my time there, and in the years since, I have spread the gospel as well as the gear. Hats, shirts and newspaper clippings have made the Pats the NFL team of choice for the Dutch. (This may not actually be true, but there are at least a few converts to whom I’ve managed to show the light.)
• We played pick-up soccer against the local high school on Wednesday afternoons, and despite our local ringers, usually got crushed. I did, however, have my own World Cup moment, using my one burst of speed and a little intervention from above to blast home a goal that meant absolutely nothing. I got a nod of approval, and perhaps a bit of surprise from the opposition, which made it all worthwhile.
• The Dutch celebrate the Queen Beatrix’s birthday every year with a huge party in Amsterdam; crowd estimates are usually around one million. On “Queen’s Day” the streets are shut down, public drinking is encouraged and the canals are loaded with boats full of floating parties. In typical Dutch fashion, the Queen’s actual birthday is in the middle of winter, so they just decided to hold the party in April when the weather is nicer. What I remember the most, outside of a lot of drinking, is standing by what in America would be a cart selling sausages, but in Holland is pumping out herring covered in raw onions. No need for forks, knives or even napkins as the locals consider it finger food and down that thing in one gulp. It sounded gross then and even more so now, but at the time I remember thinking it wasn’t bad at all.
• I thought they were playing a trick on the American guy, but you actually do have to bring the cake to your own birthday party in Holland. There’s a traditional pastry called vlaai that was just over the top good; somewhere between a pie and a cake but with enough butter to clog an artery or two. I celebrated my birthday at least three times while I lived there. The Dutch are not known for fine cuisine, but they make some good pastry and they can deep fry the hell out of just about anything.
• We went camping for a few days on the coast on Holland. Three big guys, one small tent. Nothing more to say.
• We saw Jane’s Addiction in Amsterdam at an old church turned concert hall. The drum beat started slowly and grew louder and more intense for almost 45-minutes before they actually hit the stage; it was amazing to feel the tension building throughout the room. It would have been more amazing if we had planned ahead and gotten a hotel room. We stayed up until the first train back at 5 a.m. Truth be told, there are worse places to stay up all night than Amsterdam.