Suddenly Sunday

Mr. Muscato has always been fond of those "hear no evil" monkeys, ever since he happened on a stash of them at a thrift shop in central Pennsylvania (oh, we get around). He was, therefore, inordinately pleased to discover the same theme over one of our favorite bars, translated into cherubs. In Amsterdam, even bar tchochtkes have a kind of faded elegance...

Unlike the Rijksmuseum, one of our Sunday destinations, which is in the midst of some multi-year makeover and therefore has on display only a greatest-hits show, which felt to me like getting one of those "original artists" CDs out of a bargain bin. Even so - Vermeers, so I really can't complain.

And: a lovely lunch with the executrix, cakes at a shop called Pompadour (exactly as foofy as it sounds), dinner at our favorite fish restaurant (the lobster bisque of death), a walk through the redlight district (teeming on a Sunday night), a very brief stop at the local iteration of the Eagle (distinctly scarier than its American incarnations), and a much longer and more convivial stop at the bar of the three cherubs, where Pieter the bartender does a fierce Miss Ross. Good times.