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Dans le port d'Amsterdam...
Jun. 8th, 2002 04:45 pmSo here I am in the Dam, in an internet coffee shop (translation: they sell pot), inhaling marijuana fumes. I don't think I'll have to buy any, after all!
The overnight train last night was surprisingly comfortable, even though the bunks are stacked so close together, three to a side in the compartment, that I couldn't sit up as I was on the bottom bunk. The the guy across from me, on the other bunk, thought nothing of stripping down to his white bikini briefs before we were even out of the station, which surprised me a bit. I turn my back for one minute, and he's already taking his pants off! I know they're not uptight about this kind of thing in Europe, but did he really have to lie on top of his blankets like that, with me not three feet away from him?
I managed to get a decent amount of sleep, and was pleased when I realized that they were actually going to feed me. They even gave us cute little complimentary water-bottles.
I got off the train in Amsterdam a bit before ten and set off to find myself accommodations. The first hostel I went to had a waiting list, but I got a bed and they have a washer and dryer (I'm out of underwear and t-shirts, again), so that's all right.
A word to my mother: Amsterdam is not hard to navigate at all! They have street signs. Besides, the canals are laid out in a logical, orderly way, as opposed to, say, Venice, where someone just laid them out at random. The fact that my map of Amsterdam only has the names of the most important streets on it might be a factor; it's much easier to count, or say, "Ok, left after two canals" than to look for names.
I wanted to go to Rembrandt's house, I tried, but the museum is closed for ten days, and I didn't feel like paying admission for just his house, which I don't think has much in it.
With that crossed on my list, I strolled across town to see the Anne Frank House, which has been set up as a museum. There isn't any of the furniture left in it, but there are still some pictures that had been pasted on the walls. The whole thing is well set up and very sobering. I've never been in a museum that is so full of people yet so silence! They don't even need to put signs up, people don't want to talk, and only whisper when they feel they must say something.
Feeling suitably solemn, I decided to lighten my mood up a bit by poking around the red light district. Saw lots of girls in windows, many beautiful and others not so beautiful, and lots of strip bars. I walked by the Casa Rossa, which supposedly has a very classy show, and saw the fountain out front, which made me laugh. Not because it's shaped like a penis, though that's amusing enough, but because the balls *spin*, which is sort of weird.
There is a black cat in a window across the street, staring at me. Silly Dutch cat! I saw another black Dutch cat earlier, but that one was in a ground level window and I could pat it. So far, I've seen a grand total of perhaps five cats in all the time I've been in Europe. I guess they hide from the dogs, because the dogs are *everywhere*. Everywhere I went, there were dogs, but very well-behaved; you'd never see one run off after another dog, or start barking at someone/thing. Except for here. This afternoon, as I sat eating some tasty patat frites with mayo, the most annoying little yappy dog ever would bark at anything that moved. And his stupid owner would just tell him to shut up every five minutes.
This keyboard I'm using has all sorts of coffee stains and burn marks on it. Not all of the keys work, either.
Tomorrow marks the last day of my travels within Europe, because my rail-pass expires. Sigh. I have to decide whether or not I'm going to stop for a couple of hours in Antwerp between here and Paris. I'd like to, but it'll be Sunday so I don't know if things will be open or not.
After that... four days in Paris, and it's over! I feel as though I've been here forever, but it's gone by so quickly. I've finally gotten used to my backpack, though I wonder if I might be doing some serious damage to my knees; the right one hurts even when I'm walking without my pack.
When I get home, I don't think I'm going to move for a week, but I'll be talking the whole time.
The overnight train last night was surprisingly comfortable, even though the bunks are stacked so close together, three to a side in the compartment, that I couldn't sit up as I was on the bottom bunk. The the guy across from me, on the other bunk, thought nothing of stripping down to his white bikini briefs before we were even out of the station, which surprised me a bit. I turn my back for one minute, and he's already taking his pants off! I know they're not uptight about this kind of thing in Europe, but did he really have to lie on top of his blankets like that, with me not three feet away from him?
I managed to get a decent amount of sleep, and was pleased when I realized that they were actually going to feed me. They even gave us cute little complimentary water-bottles.
I got off the train in Amsterdam a bit before ten and set off to find myself accommodations. The first hostel I went to had a waiting list, but I got a bed and they have a washer and dryer (I'm out of underwear and t-shirts, again), so that's all right.
A word to my mother: Amsterdam is not hard to navigate at all! They have street signs. Besides, the canals are laid out in a logical, orderly way, as opposed to, say, Venice, where someone just laid them out at random. The fact that my map of Amsterdam only has the names of the most important streets on it might be a factor; it's much easier to count, or say, "Ok, left after two canals" than to look for names.
I wanted to go to Rembrandt's house, I tried, but the museum is closed for ten days, and I didn't feel like paying admission for just his house, which I don't think has much in it.
With that crossed on my list, I strolled across town to see the Anne Frank House, which has been set up as a museum. There isn't any of the furniture left in it, but there are still some pictures that had been pasted on the walls. The whole thing is well set up and very sobering. I've never been in a museum that is so full of people yet so silence! They don't even need to put signs up, people don't want to talk, and only whisper when they feel they must say something.
Feeling suitably solemn, I decided to lighten my mood up a bit by poking around the red light district. Saw lots of girls in windows, many beautiful and others not so beautiful, and lots of strip bars. I walked by the Casa Rossa, which supposedly has a very classy show, and saw the fountain out front, which made me laugh. Not because it's shaped like a penis, though that's amusing enough, but because the balls *spin*, which is sort of weird.
There is a black cat in a window across the street, staring at me. Silly Dutch cat! I saw another black Dutch cat earlier, but that one was in a ground level window and I could pat it. So far, I've seen a grand total of perhaps five cats in all the time I've been in Europe. I guess they hide from the dogs, because the dogs are *everywhere*. Everywhere I went, there were dogs, but very well-behaved; you'd never see one run off after another dog, or start barking at someone/thing. Except for here. This afternoon, as I sat eating some tasty patat frites with mayo, the most annoying little yappy dog ever would bark at anything that moved. And his stupid owner would just tell him to shut up every five minutes.
This keyboard I'm using has all sorts of coffee stains and burn marks on it. Not all of the keys work, either.
Tomorrow marks the last day of my travels within Europe, because my rail-pass expires. Sigh. I have to decide whether or not I'm going to stop for a couple of hours in Antwerp between here and Paris. I'd like to, but it'll be Sunday so I don't know if things will be open or not.
After that... four days in Paris, and it's over! I feel as though I've been here forever, but it's gone by so quickly. I've finally gotten used to my backpack, though I wonder if I might be doing some serious damage to my knees; the right one hurts even when I'm walking without my pack.
When I get home, I don't think I'm going to move for a week, but I'll be talking the whole time.
