A Belated Travelogue: DAY 1- Monday, April 11th

I touched down in Amsterdam early Monday afternoon after catching a connecting flight from Istanbul. The weather report for the week had not been promising, but it was beautiful today so I decided to capitalize on the sun and spend most of the day outside.

I took the train from Schiphol Airport to Central Station (knew enough to get off this time!) which is surprisingly easy and convenient, but then again, this is Europe, not America we’re talking about. My hostel was extremely close to Central Station- a lot closer than I thought it was, so I ended up walking around with my luggage for an extra 20 minutes before I found it- The Flying Pig Downtown Hostel, one of the top ranked hostels in the world.

I walked in and the front desk was staffed by several cute but tough looking Dutch and Aussie girls. For a while they couldn’t find any record of my reservation (could any more go wrong already at this point? Talk about ill-fated) but after a 5 minute scare, they were able to find a vacant bed for me. The lobby of the hostel included 3 computers, a fully stocked bar, a pool table, a DJ station, and a stage stocked with overstuff pillows for those needing to relax and lie down from all their heavy-duty vacationing ways.

Unfortunately the hostel was in the middle of a massive renovation, so there was a lot of construction work being done everywhere. It made some parts of the hostel crowded, but it was no big deal. I was walked down a series of long hallways and shown to my bunk bed. The trunks are underneath the beds and all of them were easy to access- except mine Just the way the beds were positioned, half of mine was blocked, but after some creative positioning (and pushing) I was able to squeeze my borrowed traveler suitcase in there.

With the sun out and spring in full bloom, I ambled on down to the Central and East Canal Rings, and a spot known as The Golden Bend due to the fancy, ornate town houses stretching along the canals. Later, I ventured further south down to the Leidseplein neighborhood and bought a Tuesday night ticket for an improv comedy show performed by a troupe called Boom Chicago.

Bicycles and the people who ride them- the silent killers. Amsterdam is a very busy, heavily trafficked city. There are cars and trams (good near-death tram story from my last day) all over the place, but at least you can hear them if they’re coming near you. But the bikes? Oh, man. Amsterdam may be the most heavily biked area of the world outside of the Tour De France race path. And the cyclists pedal around like they have right of way over everyone else in the city. They’re all equipped with those dingy, trebly bells, but who can hear a miniscule bell over the din of this city? Over the span of my trip, I was probably nearly hit or run over by a bicyclist at least twice a day. I mean, seriously close calls here, people.

While it was relatively warm’ around 60 degrees F, and sunny it was still rather windy. My hair, it was blowing everywhere. I know my hair’s pretty messy, but as long as I’m not in a speeding car with the window down or walking around outside when it’s really windy, I can usually tame it slightly and keep it under control. Not today- it looked like I hadn’t touched a hairbrush in weeks. But I was in Amsterdam- nobody cares about things like that here.

On this first day, I was sure to get a large helping of french fries, and they’re served and eaten just like John Travolta told Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction. They’re fried to delicious, golden, juicy perfection, dumped into a paper cone, and DROWNED in mayonnaise, catsup, or both. Now, I’m a boy who loves his french fries, but these may have been the best I’d ever tasted. My only complaint was that all the fries places made you pay extra for mayo or catsup. They really get you there, because you can’t have these fries with nothing on them- that would be straight-out sacrilegious.

I had gotten only a few hours sleep the night before since I had to get up for that 3am airport shuttle in Izmir, so I passed out, exhausted, at 8:30 before even having the chance to eat dinner. The lack of sleep coupled with all the urban miles (sorry, kilometers) of walking I logged translated into a very early night for Geoffers.