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.