It’s 8am now. There is a slight bob to the Jan-Kees while I sip on the coffee. Upper doors to the wheelhouse is open and a pleasant breeze wafts through. The dock is starting to stir and the first few locals silently drift by on their bicycles on the bridge behind us. The morning hunt for caffeine and sustenance commences. It’s Saturday, market day in Zaanadam. I won’t be missing it. Nieuwe Haring awaits. Beer supplies are low.