Time for some more culture and a look into the Netherlands of old, so I hopped a train from Central Station and visited Zaanse Schans, an old, preserved Dutch village marketed to tourists. About the name- it’s not at all pronounced like it’s spelled. I still don’t know how to pronounce it- I just know it definitely ain’t phonetic.
It was a bit of a walk after I got off the train, but I didn’t have any trouble finding it. It was quaint, kind of cute, but still a bit of a tourist trap. There were some old windmills there- the oldest ones in Holland, according to them. There lots of goats and sheep hanging around grazing and doing what they do, plus there was a cheese factory (I always thought gouda was pronounced "goo-da" but it’s actually pronounced more like "gow-da". Who knew?!) The best store there, by far, was the clog factory. For some reason, I was transfixed and mesmerized by the clogs. All these different clogs were on display, and you could watch them make a sample clog in their factory, which, for me, was utterly fascinating. I so wanted to buy a pair at the shop, but I knew there would be no way they could fit in my suitcase on the way back to Turkey. A pair of size 11 clogs looked like they would have fit a 7 foot Nigerian man.
When I got back to the hostel I watched the 2nd half of Jackie Brown in the "Chill Out Room" downstairs and then I more or less called it a night. Every night the lobby in my hostel would be turned into a gigantic alcohol and marijuana-fueled party that would go far into the crevices of the night, but it didn’t interest me all that much
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