I just became aware that magic mushrooms are now banned (or close to being banned, I’m not sure of my sources) in Amsterdam which was a little upsetting because they were my fondest, and basically only, memory of my time in the Netherlands.
It made sense that it was raining. Coming here on a sunny day wouldn’t have felt appropriate. Knowing what went on within the fences I didn’t want any temptation to enjoy myself, to appreciate the scenery and the warm sun on my face. A grim place needs grim weather, and that’s one of the nicest ways you could describe Auschwitz. The dark grey clouds had moved in since the sunny morning in Krakow and steady drizzle now dampened the surrounding countryside.
Being a white Anglo-Saxon I always felt obliged to go to Europe, go back to my roots, where I am the native. London was the perfect hub to base myself and earn a poultry living and fund a budget tour around the Old World.
Everywhere you look in the travel blogging world there are lists. The Top 13 Places to see in 2013; Top 10 Pick Up joints in Osaka; Top 8 ways to eat sausage in Munich; Top 6 Beaches in Estonia; Top 5 ways to wipe your arse in Vietnam.
Lists would have to be the weakest, laziest form of writing. It requires no story-line or plot or structure. Any cretin with a pen and paper and a spare five minutes can jot down a few places they’ve been and put them in any order. They’re not right or wrong, they’re just opinion and advice. It’s just a quick, easy, cheap read for the audience.
Here is a list of my own.