9 Streets

The nine streets sign. May be a little too small to read but that's what it reads.

Cat sleeping in the display window of a vintage shop. Every cat reminded me of Mongkut, when I got home, he looked at me with disdain until he remembered who I was, about six hours later. I think he suffers from protein deficiency, his brain is not working too well.

A florist at the nine streets.

My expectations were built up, I expected too much, the 9 streets was a shopping mecca in my mind, I envisioned lots of quirky Dutch stuff to buy. None at all. One shop was promising, but the three fitting rooms were monopolized by local frenetic clothes-horse fanatics who pretended to be blind and not see the others hopeful for a shot at the fitting rooms.

Anything remotely interesting was out of my budget. We came across a shop near Ledseplein which carried bags and jewelry designed by the shop owners. Their workshops were also located in the store. A leather handbag costs about 350 Euros. Sigh.

We went away with smoked cheese and two handmade ceramic plates, and a very last minute purchase by Mom, a gorgeous lambskin violet bag.

Bought the ceramic trays from this pretty shop.

While leaving the nine streets, we saw this bored dog lying nonchalently on the floor. When I took out my sony ericsson mobile, he turned to look at me and started posing. Responded to all the coo-ing sounds we made, this little doggie is bilingual like most of the Dutch, comprehends English too. Or maybe the coo-ing sounds are universal. It's the Tone, not what you Said.

So Manja!