[The Gay Games Friendship Village. A hive of Pink activity.]

This is our last day, and we're half relieved, half saddened. We visit the Tropenmuseum (Museum of the Tropics), about life in developing countries. It's unusual, and, if you like anthropology, probably interesting, but we're a bit bored. We're disturbed by a special exhibit for the Gay Games, of black male nude photos. Seems they're accommodating in the extreme - we're getting a bit sick of it being shoved in our faces. We have lunch in a cafe by the market, where Iain has a huge burger with a fried egg all over it, and I get (surprise) chips. The flea market is weird - lots of junk and secondhand stuff, some of it quite rare. Iain has to be dragged away from a stall full of old music equipment, which he begs to take back.

Our train is due mid-afternoon, and it's another crap journey - full and hot. The Eurostar is slightly better and much more posey, though not inspiringly fast. Coke's £1.50 a can, possibly our most expensive outside Vienna? We go thirsty. We arrive in Waterloo with mixed reactions at 8.40pm UK time, pretty tired. A woman stops us and asks us to fill out a government questionnaire relating to balance of payments. She makes the mistake of asking us where we've been. Iain's reaction is "write small". He dashes for the next train, and I am left trying to figure out a journey alone. The tube ride is easily the worst I've had all holiday, as the Northern Line seems to be devoid of trains. I get home at 10.30pm, glad to speak to people in English, and understand Sterling currency, etc.

Final Stupid American Quote (there are a lot of them here), in front of Amsterdam Central Station: "Where do the trains leave town from?"