As I am writing this, I am sitting in my favorite Amsterdam café, hidden in the narrow streets of the Jordaan area. In the spirit of Christmas they are playing the soundtrack to “Sound of Music”, which is unusually appropriate in light of their usual playlist. The couple on my right is silent. She looks frale, with a pale pink sweater, thin peroxide blonde hair and heavy bags under her eyes. He’s big, wears white leather loafers, jeans and a t-shirt revealing his sleeve tattoos that go all the way up to his face. I now hear they are German. They speak very little but are holding hands under the table while witnessing the scene around them. They observe the barista’s who are jokingly singing along to “How do you solve a problem like Maria.” They talk about how the foam on his beer is smoothened on top as opposed to the bustling white peaks a Warsteiner would have.
With what seems to be communicated only through eye-contact, they get up, put on their coats, and walk out the door.