Finally I found Mara and Gabby! We met up on a brisk morning in Amsterdam and quite simply wandered around the city catching up. When friends are apart for six months they have a lot to tell one another. Add in moving to a foreign country and things just get crazy. So we got lost in Amsterdam looking at the Red Light District and then wandering towards the Jordaan district. On the way, we stopped in the Niewe Church which had an exhibition on Rembrandt. The church was beautiful with incredibly intricate wood carvings, a huge organ and a maze of posters hanging from the ceiling. Apparently, the “exhibition” that was going on was actually one of the dullest exhibits that this venue had hosted. We walked through posters of previous exhibitions at the Niewe Chuch like one might walk through an art gallery. When we finally made I through the labyrinth we discovered that the exhibition was just one piece by Rembrandt. True, the Holy Family is a beautiful painting by Rembrandt but it felt a little over advertised. Ah well.
As we wandered and caught up, I began making a list of everything I want to do when I come back to Amsterdam (in December). I learned that if you want to go to the Anne Frank House, you need to get up relatively early in the morning and the Van Gogh Museum is actually right next to my hotel in December. Other than that, most museums in Amsterdam are horrendously expensive and the architecture outside is so beautiful that I figured I didn’t need to spend money twice, especially when the group I was traveling with did not have much interest in those museums. We did pass the famous “Condomerie” window…
We eventually wandered into a coffeeshop called Basjoe Café to try their signature special tea and while ordering I witness a very strange exchange. The man behind the counter—I’ll call him the barista—had very clearly been sampling the delicacies that Amsterdam is famous for legalizing. He had a single dreadlock which was knotted several times at the base of his neck and then extended all the way down to the floor. He stood grinning from behind the counter as a very exuberant young American man bustled into the shop, suitcase in hand. He approached the barista and asked if they had WiFi, going on at length about how he needed to get ahold of his friend and couldn’t find anywhere. The barista simply grinned and sang, “nooooooo.” The American chuckled and asked where he might be able to find WiFi. The barista widened his eyes, made eye contact with me (as though I would understand what he was about to say) and sang, “I never saw ah internet in mah liiiiiiiiiiiife!” and then began to laugh hysterically. I looked at the American and we exchanged glances that I would interpret as, “Dude…I have no idea what just happened,” then the American chuckled, thanked the barista and left. The barista continued to laugh hysterically until he finally handed me my tea and went back to smoking his joint. Did I expect any less from Amsterdam? Haha!
At this point it was still early but we had been on our feet all day, it was getting cold and I needed to catch a flight at 6am the next morning so we bid one another farewell until January and headed in opposite directions. On my way back to our hotel, I witnessed the Occupy Amsterdam campgrounds. It was pretty similar to Occupy London, only more lights.
While waiting for the tram I also saw a group of people dressed as pirates and a man doing tricks on a scooter. Let me be more specific; this was a scooter that you don’t generally see anyone on unless they are past the age of 80. Touché, Amsterdam.
I woke up six hours later to take a tram, then a train, then two planes back to Florence via Zurich. Although I left myself three hours to get to the airport, I underestimated the awful timing of Amsterdam public transport on a Sunday when one needs to make a very solid deadline. I made it to the airport with fifteen minutes until my gate closed. I sat for ten minutes in the security line until I finally began asking people if I could go ahead so that I could make my flight. Luckily, everyone spoke English and everyone was very kind…except for the security guards, of course. They searched my bag and informed me that I could not take peanut butter on the airplane regardless of if it was only three ounces (explanation: they don’t really half peanut butter in Italy but they do in Holland and peanut butter is one of my favorite things in the world). I ran through half of the Schipol airport and made my flight with a minute to spare. And none of my flights were delayed that day
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