We eat and talk until ten or so and then call it a day. To help fight jet lag I take a handful of sleepers, and they knock me cold.

This morning Rafaël comes around for coffee, and then we set out for the Albert Cuyp Markt. Since it's way out of his walking range and, OK, a bit out of mine, we take the tram, which is what Amsterdamers call their streetcars.

The market is just as I remembered it, a mixture of stalls selling pretty much everything, and it's great fun even though Rafaël and I scarcely seem able to even see the same things since he doesn't look at food and I, at nothing else.

Careful buyers, we walk all the way through the market to see what's available so we can make our purchases on the way out. And of course my hidden agenda is for us to eat at De Bazar since I've been dreaming of their falafel since my last visit.

It's still the best I ever ate, better even than that in the place in San Francisco on 16th near the Roxie that my Palestinian friend Sami recommends, but this year I notice a major negative. There's a line at the bottom of the menu saying their meats are halal (prepared according to Islamic religious rules) which is for me a total turn-off. When I want my food blessed by an iman, I'll let him know.

Why I'm such a contrarian? I have now reached an age and a state of health at which I might be expected to start singing "Nearer My God to Thee," but instead I am becoming increasingly opposed to organized religion. So much so that I passionately resent being dragged into the ignorance and superstition of religious dietary laws.

On the other hand, I have to admit that my fondness for gourmet food is far greater than my dislike of religion, so I quickly overcome my outrage and feed on the falafel with my usual enthusiasm. Just as I likewise grit my teeth in San Francisco and buy Scharffen Berger chocolate in spite of its being labeled Pareve (which I take to mean, among other things, that it has been blessed by rabbis.) Don't worry, Mr. Scharffenberger, I'd buy your chocolate even if you paid enough to get it blessed by Jerry Falwell, the Dalai Lama, and the Pope.

Or would I? It occurs to me that since I have discovered the Ecuadorian and Venezuelan single-bean chocolates, I can use those instead of Scharffen Berger, just as I got my new laptop from Hewlitt Packard instead of from Bush Pioneer Michael Dell.

After lunch, we drift back out of the market, making our purchases. Mine include half a kilo (what was I thinking?) of the best milk chocolate almond bark I ever ate from this stand I discovered in 2001, the most totally Dutch toothpaste I can find...not an English word anywhere on the tube, a smoked mackerel from a small fish stand to compare with the standard set by the Volendammer Vishandel, fresh coriander for tomorrow's Chile Verde, and a Hass avocado for the dinner Rina is doing tonight.

Before we get back on the tram, we walk down to the Heinekenplein and hit Dirk van der Borg, the Albert Heijn alternative that advertises itself as "11% goedkoper" and does seem to be noticeably cheaper. There, we buy staples like sugar and salt and flour (and, well, a couple of brands of chocolate milk), and I marvel again at how much cheaper most groceries are than in San Francisco. And realize again that, yes, the Dutch don't have to support folks like the Waltons and Ken Lay in the style to which they have become accustomed, so of course universal health care and cheap groceries abound.

For supper, I join Rafaël and Hans and Rina for New King leftovers augmented by a fresh salad, and fresh fruit, and afterwards we nibble at that milk chocolate almond bark. Well, they nibble. I get right into it and somehow among us a third of a kilo disappears.

One last treat before bed, though - my new Parodontax tandpasta met natuurlijke plantenextracten. I squeeze a generous line onto my brush and eagerly begin the test run. Aaarrrgggghhhhh!!!!! Every taste bud recoils, screaming. Ajax toilet cleaner cannot be worse than this stuff. It is the toothpaste from hell, unspeakably vile, overtones of salt and soda with a lingering, nay, clinging aftertaste of bitter herbs. Somehow in all that scrutiny of text, it never occurred to me to even think about the taste.

Oh, do come visit me sometime. The guest toothpaste will be attractively positioned at the left front edge of the lavatory.

For a pic, here's some more Amsterdam wires. That other thing is the clock tower on the Beurs van Berlage.