In 1993, I resigned my job. I was living in the UK at the time. Instead of moving back to my hometown (Houston), I decided I wanted to experience a cold winter. I had never seen a cold winter before. So I moved to Amsterdam. Just a 45-minute flight from London.
I had money in the bank and all the time in the world. To do whatever I wanted to do. After leasing an apartment for 6 months, I quickly fell into a routine. I am very routine-minded. Very consistent.
My typical day would go like this. Wake up (or get home from the gay baths) around 5am-ish. Drink 2 or 3 cups of coffee while watching BBC News and smoking a joint or two. I just had to keep up with the world news. Shower and shave and leave the apartment about 7am. I would walk to an Irish pub in the heart of the city; a 20 minute walk. I'd get a newspaper and drink 2 or 3 pints of lager while reading. Then I'd go next door to one of Amsterdam's 200+ Coffeeshop's and resupply my hash. Smoke another joint while there and move on down the road. By now, it's around 10am.
I adopted a basement bar/pool hall as MY place. It opened at 11am every day. I was there to help open it. Made a number of acquaintances during the 6 months I lived there. We'd play pool and stay stoned (while playing) well into mid-afternoon.
Nap time. Head back home. Sleep, then wake up and begin that routine all over again by 6pm. I would alter the bars each night and visit different coffeeshops. Sometimes I would spend the night at the gay baths which didn't even open til 11pm. I was pretty fucked up by that time. But I was loyal. Consistent.
Six months and $18,000 later, I decided to move back to Houston. I just spent the mildest winter Amsterdam had seen in years. It only snowed once and the canals froze over once too. But my brain stayed frozen for the entire time.