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.