Amsterdam.

Amsterdam – My Brain Turns Off
So, I made a vow, and I am sticking to it – it’s my turn to get my relax on and just go along for the ride while someone else figures out what to do and how to do it. I have only one thing I want to do while I am here, and there will be no problem achieving that goal.

We arrive at the Blue Orange guesthouse. If you ever want the PERFECT place to stay in Amsterdam, stay here. http://www.xs4all.nl/~conschul/ It’s in a residential area, right on a canal, easy to walk to from the train station and a welcome change from a typical hostel. Located in the basement of a family home, when you open the doors you’re greeted with a living room and a flatscreen, a kitchenette, a bathroom with a – gasp – full bathtub!, and separate sleeping area. It was just what we needed! The family who owns it was very kind and accommodating, providing us with some great guidance and information. That night we took it easy – coffeeshop, dinner (Italian, because Dutch food is gross!), Chianti and bed!!

The next morning, I decided to start my day off with a walk. I do it every day in Baltimore with the poochies, and needed to feel a little bit normal. It was nice to wander around before the city woke up on a Sunday morning. Even though my camera was dead, I snapped some shots with the iPhone. It was nice to be quiet again. When I returned, the big question loomed – what to do and how to do it? I handed off the copies of my tour books to Meghan and Rachel and volunteered to look anything up we may need and ended it there. Suffering from a bit of PMS combined with some un-vented frustration over always being in charge resulted in me coming off as a little bit of a bitch. At that point though, I was beyond caring. That doesn’t make it okay – I probably should have cared a little bit more about hurting peoples feelings – but like I said, I was just done. We all were a bit raw at that point.
The itinerary was set – coffeeshhop/lunch, van Gough museum, Anne Frank Huis, and then who knows? Off we went. After lunch we realized that we knew where the tram station was but no idea how to navigate the network. I did my damndest with an all Dutch map and snippets of suggestions from locals, and surprisingly enough I figured it out. It was laborious, but I felt triumphant at the end. Even Rachel said something along the lines of “damn LaRee you are a good traveler – I’ll go anywhere with you”. Maybe it was just the coffee talking, since I had been a pretty big bitch that morning, but it was definitely the nicest compliment I’d gotten yet.

The van Gough museum was disappointing. It was well laid out, chronicling the life of the troubled artist and showing how his work evolved and devolved over time. I had heard tell of some Chagall’s there, but couldn’t find anything. Overall, though, I did not find the museum fulfilling. The Anne Frank huis was a good way to continue our human rights path through Europe. It’s haunting, walking up that staircase behind the bookshelf and realizing just how small their secret annex really was. On an individual human rights level, the young children there were deprived of their childhood by being forced to live in hiding even before they were killed in the extermination and concentration camps. As a child, I never, ever debated the concept that one morning I may not be able to go play in my yard because our neighbors have decided they disagree with my fathers politics. While the latter may not be uncommon (my dad has a lot to say about politics, trust), we take for granted the ability to speak our mind wherever and whenever. Food for thought.

Then it was back to our mini-home at Blue Orange. We chillaxed for a bit longer, and then Meghan and Rachel decided they wanted to go watch World Cup soccer and I wanted more alone time. That night, I wandered. Everywhere. I stopped at a coffeeshop and read my book (the Eclipse novella – thank you Stephanie Meyers – I needed my vampire fix right about then). I got lost. Deliberately. I checked out the red light district from afar – the best way. I ventured down to the artsy “soho” area on the opposite side of the train station. I sat. I people watched. I listened to music. I stopped in another coffeeshop and read my book. I wandered through the residential areas and enjoyed the quiet along the canals. At about 2am, I was done. Off to bed, just in time for another 4-something a.m. wake up call. I forcibly fought my urge to ask them to be quiet, because I knew there was no way it would come out as anything less than “can you two drunk bitches please shut the f*ck up”.

The next morning, Meghan and Rachel set off with Rachel’s friend from Cologne, Germany, to the countryside to go see some windmills. I wandered some more – pretty much a repeat of all of yesterday’s activities, just in different parts of the city. My trip was winding down and I was sad for it to end, but also ready to be home. We said goodbye to Rachel who was headed back to Cologne, Germany with Christoph and then it was off to the airport – time to head to rainy Londontown.