Day 27: Ot Het Festival

Apparently bringing a baby
to a bar is acceptable here

So the last two days have continued rain.  Rain, rain, rain...never-ending.  But each afternoon the rain usually lightens to an acceptable-for-trying-to-leave-the-building level.  So Saturday night Tracy invited me to go to a festival out at the old ship harbor that we had gone to earlier in the week.  We rode our bikes to Centraal Station and caught the ferry.  When we got there we immediately realized that the "festival" consisted of metal shipping containers--those rectangle crate things--with little performance art pieces inside and for each you pay entry of like 1-3 euro.  So we decided to give one a try.  As we bought our tickets we were blind
folded and guided into the crate.  We then heard a loud noise and a woman yelling in dutch. I took off my blindfold and was in utter pitch black.  For twenty minutes we listened to a women yelling, talking, and singing in dutch.  At one point she grabbed my arm and asked me a question, she asked it again and I whispered, "I speak english..." By the end of the performance I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and ready to kill Tracy for the invite.  I then asked if we could just go to the bunker bar that was in the area.  So we went and found a nice couch to plop on.  Then we talked about Tracy's religion, Jehovah's Witnesses, for a good while...its called "informal preaching" she says...it started to get late and  I was more than ready for the night to be over, but ooohhhh nnoooo, we get on the wrong ferry.  So by the time we made it home, it was 1:30 am.  "Interesting" night.