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About Almere

Now, me quirks kick in—I’m pacin’ the deck, talkin’ to meself, “Jack, ye daft fool, don’t hire the first lass ye see!” Gotta vet ‘em, check histories—clean data, not scurvy lies. Once, I near hired a gal who swore she’d been with Blackbeard himself—exaggeratin’ for dramatics, aye, but I laughed ‘til me ribs ached. “I like simple pleasures,” I growl, quotin’ Amélie, “like rum and a good tale!”

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So, we finally get to the Genneperhuis, and it’s closed. Of course! Just my luck. I’m fuming. Like, why even have a sign if you’re not open? But Jeroen’s like, “Let’s just chill in the park.” So we head to het Kloosterpark. It’s nice, but there’s this group of kids playing soccer, and they keep kicking the ball our way. I’m dodging like I’m in the World Cup.

Rite of passage - Victor Turner, Anti-Structure