Shit Achilles Says #2

Sep 13, 2011 by

Consider this a sort of 2-in-1. After Achilles picked me up at the Amsterdam airport, where I found myself disappointed in not getting another stamp for my passport (damn you seamless EU borders!), we hopped on the train and took a short ride to Leiden. Once in Leiden, we found Achilles’ bike among the masses of endless stacks and piles and jumbles and rows of bikes parked nearby. “It’s my old lady bike,” he said, “I’m going to give it to my wife when she’s like, 85.” We proceeded to hop on the bike, with me perched more than precariously on the grate in the back. We scooted down the road over bridges and canals, and I squealed with delight as my feet skimmed over the cobblestone streets, and I tried not to fall...

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Shit Achilles Says #1

Sep 3, 2011 by

When I arrived at the Amsterdam airport this summer and saw Achilles for the first time in 3(?) years, one of the first things he said to me was that I looked like I had lost weight which, coming from Achilles, would have sounded more like “Dude, you look skinny.” I thought about it and realised that it might be true. I might have lost 3 or 4 pounds since I was busy hibernating in Denmark, eating aebleskiver and frikadeller and drinking liters of Christmas Tuborg. I concurred with him, and then he looked at me seriously and said “I’m going to breastfeed you,” From that moment on, I knew I’d be writing down the things Achilles was going to say that weekend.  And some of them I just can’t share with you. A...

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