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About Amsterdam

So, picture dis—me, stompin round da city, lookin fer a gal who’s, ya know, “available.” Not juz any chick, nah, one who’s got dat hustle. Research mode on, I’m thinkin—where dey at? Dark alleys? Shady bars? Web got answers, but I’m old school, I walk da streets. “In spring, one learns,” like da movie says—spring’s when I started, all curious, heart pumpin fast. Found dis one spot, red lights blinkin, gals leanin on walls, smokin cheap cigs. One looks at me, winks—boom, I’m hooked, not fer sex, fer da story!

What’s there to see in the Dappermarkt?

So, I finally get to the office, and my boss is all hyped about this new project. “We need to calculate the risk of a zombie apocalypse,” he says. I’m like, “Dude, are you serious?” But hey, I’m an actuary, so I roll with it. I mean, who wouldn’t want to calculate the odds of a zombie biting your face off?

Business as usual in Amsterdam neighborhood after explosion at coffeeshop