When I first started visiting Amsterdam back in the early '90s I was introduced to two people who would prove to be life-long friends, and to whom goes much of the credit (if that's the word) for bringing me to Amsterdam in the end. Babette and Michiel were and are their names, and at that time they were a couple, which made it all the nicer. It was they who first took me to Holland-België, a convenience store (as we would call such a thing in America) that served fresh fries, as do many such stores in the Netherlands. Their lives, full of bikes and parties and fun of all kinds, seemed nothing short of miraculous to me, but most miraculous of all was that the finest fries I had ever eaten--then and now--were to be had at a little shop that was literally half-a-dozen doors down from Michiel's apartment. Many years later I moved to Amsterdam, and for part of that time I actually lived in Michiel's apartment, along with Talia, and it was during this period that I took the photo above. You will understand, therefore, that the passing of this institution marks for me the end of a phase of my life. Marks it in a way that actually leaving Amsterdam did not, because though leaving I could always go back. I will never be able to go back to Holland-België again.
My life is largely free of regret, but the main exceptions are these: that I did not eat more of those fries while I had the chance, that I did not eat more Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookie Dough ice cream while I had the chance, that I did not eat more Utz Kettle-Cooked Mesquite BBQ Potato Chips while I had the chance. I ate a lot of all these things, but not enough, not enough. Please, all of you, look around at the things you love to eat, and eat them now.
Have you ever noticed how words of comfort generally don't? I have, but you're welcome to try anyway.
