Amsterdam

A day trip to Amsterdam. Haha, why not? Sometimes I forget that one of the most infamous cities in all of Europe is just a three-hour ride away. Throughout the two and a half months I have been in the Netherlands, the closest I had gotten to Amsterdam has been its airport on the very first day. Finally, with Josh and Jessica, I would explore Holland's most diverse metropolis and try not to get too lost...or high. Both actually.

It's difficult to define what exactly Amerstadam is made of. Although the city is most widely known for its relaxed views on marijuana and prostitiution, there is so much more here for the taking. A certain vibe is immediately noticable once one walks along side the numerous murky canals here. It's a cool vibe, maybe like Portland, with an artsy, hip spirit rooted in hundreds of years of history as a port of every international commodity.

The day also contributed quite nicely to Amsterdam's chic personality. A perfect crisp October day, the air cool enough to sting the ears, but sunny enough to bring people outside so as not to waste one single ray. Which marks one major difference that I have noticed between America and Europe. It seems that generally people here spend more time in the outdoors, despite their cramped existence. Coffee--outside. Lunch--outside. A couple of glasses of beer or wine--taken outside. If there is a nice day, no matter the temperature, Europeans want to make use of it, enjoy it. Live their life, not have life live them. It's one of the most basic, if subtle differences that can be seen when you cross the pond.

We walked for a ways through the shopping districts and came to a square or open space (called the Dam) that Josh recognized from "The Bourne Identity." The square had some sort of twisted carnival, teeming with rides and vendors. Spinning rides, twirly rides, merry-go rounds, and that jackhammer ride that you see at a county fair. Except this one stood three times as tall as any I've seen before. We stopped at a grilling vendor, which was smoking every kind of meat imaginable over two huge barrels of fire. Next to it sat a seller of roasted nuts, each pile completely unreadable in Dutch. I got a bratwurst and watched the people rise high above the 5-story buildings surrounding us, pause delicately for a millisecond at the very top, and then plummet towards the street before swinging them back up again. Like a baton spinning between a twirler's fingers.

Naturally we next found a coffeeshop, this one surprisingly not geared towards tourists as many of them do. It was clean, laid-back, and nobody inside looked like they would pull a knife for all your euros. We had coffee, smoked, and planned our next move on our map. I know it's so strange to order weed like it's just something on a menu, but that's exactly how it works. You choose the "flavor," the method, and a drink to go with it. It's funny, but there are several Americans in our group back at school that have never smoked before and, even though it is legal throughout the entirety of Holland, don't want to see what all the fuss is about. I guess I just don't understand that mindset.

Feeling good, we ventured out into the sunny day, to see what there was to see. Amsterdam is a tricky town, primarily because of the way it is laid out, but also due to the five main canals that swoop down from Central Station and then, still evenly spaced out, all suddenly curve at a ninety-degree angle. Getting lost is something that can happen within a minute.

European streets are so different from American streets. There's no 67th and 42nd St. Each street has its own flair and personality, winding in any and all directions. Which makes navigating your way sometimes awkward and other times frustrating. And it doesn't help that every pathway's name is in a completely foreign language and usually quite a mouthful to say.

We rambled through different neighborhoods, stopping outside big churches and staring at the 17th century gabled houses gracefully assembled along the water. After a round of decision-making, we took a look at the Van Gogh Museum, filled to the brim with the paintings of the suicidal artist. He only painted for the last 10 years of his life, but still managed to churn out over 800 paintings and 1200 drawings. It was interesting to see how he improved at his craft as time went by. I had always thought of art as something you were born with, not something you can simply get better at. Practice makes perfect in all forms of life apparently.

More walking and more smoking ensued. As you would expect, both of these activities made us yearn for a great big plate of delicious food. The problem: none of us can make a fucking decision. Another problem: Amsterdam has approximately 1.6 billion restaurants of all varities. Solution: walk some more and hope to find something that we are all craving. Our heavenly answer came from a small pancake house that blew Waffle House out of the water. I ordered a huge "waffel", covered in banana, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream. All of us nearly passed out afterwards from the intense sugar rush. Easily the highlight of the day.

By this time it was dark and we mapped out our way towards the station. After an extra session in a nearby park we got back on the train for a relaxed trip home. Just another day en de Nederland.

Squatting

It has come to my attention recently that just around the corner from where I live, a group full of squatters has settled down. What is a squatter? you might ask. Well the answer is simple. A squatter is somebody who lives in old or broken-down buildings that no longer are used. I live in what from the outside looks like a long row of houses. Inside, we each have our own bedroom and share everything else. Around the corner is a similar row of houses, except these are all boarded up, painted with grafitti, and otherwise pretty unattractive. A group of guys, including a couple of students that go to my school, now live there. This is possible because of a Dutch rule that I was informed about last week. If a building is unused for a year, anybody can break in, change the locks or doors, then call the police (yes, you're actually supposed to call the police!) and you can legally live there. Crazy, eh? Now the owners of the building are obviously allowed to kick their newfound tenants out, but if they do so, they must utilize the building within 3 months or something like that. Apparently the owners of these houses must either not give a shit, or not have enough money to make the move worthwhile. In the meantime, these guys are living there free of charge. I'm pretty positive that they have running water and electricity, but even if not, does it really matter? They have found a way to live without signing a contract or approving some agreement. Legally. Shit, I could think of a hundred places to live if it was like this back home.

One last thought on the election

I know that everyone has had it up to their balls in politics lately and get physically sick at the mention of the word, but I feel the need to quickly put in my two cents worth.

Obviously this has been a historic election. Everyone on tv has told us this over and over. But outside of that, it has been for me, an election pulled straight out of a made-for-tv movie. The twists and turns have been ridiculous, like McCain boldly picking Palin and initially succeeding until she opened up her dumass mouth and Tina Fey got a hold of her. Add the fact that the financial crisis rocked the very foundation we were used to, and the race became almost overwhelming. It was hard to fathom the seriousness of it all. Each day the stakes grew higher, and the speculation grew more intense.

So I was partially regretting that I could not be back in the U.S. to see it all go down. Everyone in Europe, and the whole world for that matter, has been closely watching this thing. And everyone, and I do mean everyone, wanted, no needed Obama. In a recent poll, 85% of Dutch citizens said they would have voted for Obama. Everywhere I go, people want to talk about America with me, which I am more than happy to do. Most people genuinely love Americans, but fucking hate America. They can't understand how the most powerful country in the world could be filled with so much hypocrisy, and how its people could elect the monster that is George Bush....twice.

On election night, I went to a school-sponsored party. CNN was projected on the wall, the stage had bands playing through the night, and the bar was packed. Needless to say, I starting drinking heavily. Either way the race went, I needed to be drunk for this epic occasion. I was really nervous though, and I stayed there until 3 in the morning, waiting for a definitive answer. At 7 I awoke for a breakfast the school was putting on, and discovered the answer: Obama was our president. I was at a loss for words. The impossible had come true.

Watching his acceptance speech, I was struck with the feeling of pride. Never before have I been prouder to call myself an American. Never before have I felt this way about a leader. Never before have I felt that it is an amazing thing to be at this age, with this charismatic man as the leader of the free world. He is our generation's Kennedy, someone young, full of optimism, and ready to right all the wrongs that we have suffered in the last eight years. It was like Brandon said: a brilliant and amazing sunrise, showing us that everything can and will be alright. Shit, he has got a monumental mess in front of him. But I can't think of anybody that I would have more confidence in.