We left Bruges and traveled by train to Amsterdam. We had booked a hotel, but aside from the address, we had no idea where it was. We approached a man in a very official looking uniform and asked him sheepishly if he spoke English. Yes! He told us impatiently. We showed him the address of our hotel and asked him if we should get a taxi. He glanced down at the paper in Katrina's hand. Ahh! He said. Go outside and wait for the 5 tram. Get on board and get off at the fifth stop. That is where you will find your hotel. Thank you! We smiled, putting our backpacks back on. We rolled our roller bags out front and I laughed as my camera bag, heavy with that stupid video light (I actually really love it), went topsy turvy on the cobblestone streets. Well this is fun! I joked.
We found the 5 tram and climbed aboard, counting the stops as we went along. Amsterdam looked so lovely through the tram window, with it's canals and bicycles and cobblestone. So quaint. So cozy.
We got off at the fifth stop, Keizergracht, and started looking for Sebastian's at number 15. We stood with our bags, staring at the doors in front of us. We looked at each other. Was this some sort of weird Amsterdam thing? Did they number the doors differently than they do in the US? Did their numbers go in a different order? Now let me just stop right here and say that we are not idiots. Katrina "I got a perfect score on my math SATs" and me "full academic scholarship" were perfectly capable of seeing the situation logically, but when we don't like the situation and the situation has the capability of really, really pissing us off, we will entertain the unlikely possibilities - really any possibility that would make the number 514 on the door in front of us closer to the number 15 on the door of our hotel. Any possibility that would mean we didn't have to walk for miles with multiple wobbly roller bags on a cobblestone street, dodging cyclists (ding, ding! ding, ding! ding, ding! YEAH WE GET IT!). We were exhausted. We were hungry. Every bar we passed made me want to cry a little.
When we finally made it to the hotel, the sweet dutchman at the front desk showed us a map of our route. As it turns out, our hotel was a short three block walk from the train station, where we started.
As frustrating as that long walk was, it's a great example of why Katrina and I travel so well together. We laugh through our frustrations. We're quiet when we need to be quiet. We don't pry. And when it's all over, we spend a good half hour in our bright orange hotel room laughing about it until we find a giant dragonfly and try to catch it. Turns out, dragonflies up close really creep me out. Gross.
Other highlights of Amsterdam included:
- The Ann Frank House.
- Puff Pancakes (omfg so delicious).
- quiet coffees on cafe patios.
- renting bikes.
- fun interiors stores.
- cheese shops.
- the Flower Market.
- the Red Light District (sparks some pretty interesting conversations, let me tell you).
We also got Mexican food that night. I know that's something you're probably not supposed to do in Amsterdam, but it wasn't so bad. We ordered guacamole as an appetizer, though, and they gave us a dish the size of a shot glass. It was the most pitiful guacamole I've ever seen. Of course, had I sampled puff pancakes earlier in our stay, I probably would have refused to eat anything else while I was there. I'm not kidding. Give me some pancakes.
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| This is what happens when we are respectively told to pose for pictures. I'm really good at it, y'all. |
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| After a week together, Katrina and I unintentionally began dressing alike. |
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