Yes, it's true. Mr. Muscato and I, having had such a wonderful time last summer, have started our European jaunt in jolly olde Holland.
We've returned, even, to the same hotel, an oasis of Continental charm that seems have fallen, more or less intact, straight out of some time between the 1890s and 1930s. It reminds me, in fact, of Agatha Christie's Bertram's Hotel, although - at least so far - without either menace or Miss Marple.
Amsterdam is just about the most charming city I know - in only 24 hours, we've already sat at sidewalk cafés, found some decent clothes, seen some indecent things, and had a raucous dinner with our dear friend Clarissa, an advertising executrix. Oh, and I've eaten enough pork, in various forms, to almost convince me we've returned to civilization.
We're even being cultured, as seen by our having gone this morning to the charming garden above, which is a highlight of a heavenly house museum, formerly the home of the distinguished Van Loon family. My favorite: one of the Mesdames Van Loon was a dame de chambre to Queen Wilhelmina, so the house is littered with signed photographs of pre-war royalties, up to and including (it was all I could do not to snatch), Queen Marie.
So all's well with the world, at least our corner of it.