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About Amsterdam

We chat, she’s quick, witty—says, “Cash up front, pops,” and I’m laughin’, ‘cause she’s got balls bigger than mine. Reminds me of Tony in *Brooklyn*, all smooth, talkin’ Eilis up. I’m like, “I learned this at home,” playin’ it cool, but inside I’m sweatin’. What if she bolts with my dough? Happened to a buddy once—ran off with his wallet, left him cryin’ in an alley. Funniest shit I ever saw, ‘til it wasn’t.

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Then, I hit up the local pub, De Zwarte Ruiter. Needed a cold one after that embarrassment. I sit down, and the bartender, a cool dude named Jan, pours me a beer. We start chattin’, and he tells me about this legend of a hidden treasure somewhere in Bemmel. I’m like, “Treasure? Where?!” He just laughs and says it’s probably just a myth. But now I’m curious.

Fig. 7: Rolf Engelbrecht, John Mantas, Jan van Bemmel and Izet Masic,...