just an average weekend in Rotterdam

Once every fortnight I get to extend my weekend with one day; one small twenty-four hours which I consider sacred. This monday was extra special. Not just because I had coffee with Sander, which was very nice; good company, nice coffee (Indonesian blend, as a tribute to Roxan). Or because I picked up my parents from the airport (I took a sunbed to match their tan. Fat change, obviously; 14 minutes of Turbo Jumbo compared to 6 days of Teneriffe).
No. I had my first motorcycle lesson.
This was one of the things that I put on my 'list' of things I want to do while other people are away on holiday. What can I say? I always wanted to try it, so now I will, although it makes my hands smelly, it scared the shit out of me and I look like a right doughnut with the jacket, trousers and gloves. The hardest part was not telling anybody, because I wanted to keep it a secret to reveal in this blog.
The rest of the weekend was fantastic as well, I've been to new bars and old clubs, tried new things (coconut pancakes and Lemon Pie Martinis), had refreshing conversations about toilets, Kim Jong Ill and red gnomes (that would be Tanja and me in our new wintercoats). Furthermore, I got to spend time with old friends and meet new acquaintances, which I will probably never see again. And that's how a weekend in Rotterdam should be.