Thursday, June 15, 2006

Where To Begin

Part of me is glad my time in Amsterdam is through.
Two days in this city has drained me of a week's worth of sleep. Both nights saw me walk into the hotel a little shy of 5 a.m., with the final evening making for one of the craziest experiences of my life.
Between the Van Gogh Museum, watching soccer in two places, the Red Light District, partying for hours with Australian travelers we met in a bar and visiting the Heineken factory to take the Heineken Experience -- what an experience it was -- I don't know where to begin.
Probably my favorite part was meeting the Aussies, who lived up to their country's reputation of having wild people. I can't recall exactly how we introduced ourselves -- I certainly don't remember their names, but my pictures are great -- but we all liked beer and that seemed enough to have in common, so all things went well. We talked about soccer, traveling and just regular life, something that seems so much more accepted when away from home.
I would never approach strangers in that fashion during my normal routine, but on vacation it seems appropriate. I've now met and spoke with people from at least eight countries and probably 10 or so U.S. states. Traveling and talking with people is unlike any form of education I've ever received. There's also something to be said for living out of a single bag and being in a new place almost every day.
We ended up losing the Aussies in the Red Light District, and that's probably good. They seemed to have an agenda, whereas my friend and I were just there to walk through and look.
The Red Light District is very odd, almost surreal. You look around and can't help but think, "Am I actually seeing this?" I recommend you check it out if you're ever here because it makes for a story worth telling. Dressed in very little, but still dressed, the women have interesting ways of trying to attract customers through their glass windows.
The night ended with me making the late night workers at the train station laugh when I changed shirts because we'd been walking through off-and-on rain most of Wednesday.
Ever since the U.S. hosted the 1994 World Cup, I've always liked the Dutch National Team and rooted for them for no apparent reason. Throughout the day I spent about 100 Euro on a jersey, national team flag and this great hat with horns and bells featuring the Dutch flag. When I change, I decide to put on all of the items, yelling "Hup Holland" to anyone who walks by. My friend, the people we met waiting for our train and the various scattered employees are loving it and so am I.
For one day, and one moment, I feel as Dutch as anyone.
It's now just shy of 1 p.m. local time and I'm about to head out and board a train for Brussels. We have tonight and half of tomorrow there before going to Prague for three days and then back to Germany. Before I leave I must get another order of frittes -- french fries -- on the street. It's a good snack and the fact they come in an ice cream cone-type holder makes them an ideal travel food.
I say farewell to Amsterdam, carrying with me a host of good stories. As for everything else that's a little bit tougher to remember, that's what the camera is for.

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