Next to the doors of the pub was a small, rusted metal door with neither window nor lock.
“In here, guys,” he said as he opened the door, leading to a very steep stairwell. “All the way to the top.”
We walked past Rick, through the door, then up five flights of steps before reaching the top level. The stairs shifted under our feet, and the top floor felt as if it had been attached to the rest of the building with duct tape.
“First door on the left,” Rick said as he followed us to the top of the steps.
Stan opened the door to a large room with two single beds and a small desk with no chair.
“It’s 30 Guilders a night, in advance. Bathroom’s down the hall. You have to share it with the other guests, but right now, there aren’t any.”
I had no idea if this was a good deal or not. I had just (finally) figured out the British Pound. I was trying to convert money from the Dollar to the Pound to the Guilder.
“Sounds good,” Stan replied, pulling out a handful of strange, foreign bills and coins.
We both stared blankly at the money, not sure which was worth what.
Rick leaned over and began examining the currency in Stan’s hand.
“Here, I need this, and this,” He said grabbing what I assumed (or perhaps hoped) was 30 Guilders.
He handed Stan the key to the room, and turned towards the door.
“Have fun guys.”
We stood, still dazed, in the center of the room, backpacks still on.
“So…what do you want to do first?” Stan finally asked, throwing his pack on one of the beds.