I'll spend it traveling and I leave in about half an hour. It makes my stomach flip to think I might not ever see again all the wonderful people I've met.
I miss my friends and family back in the States. I'll see you soon. The blog will continue for a few weeks, with actual entries about Wales, until I have nothing left to say.
Love and Bon Voyage.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Monday, December 3, 2007
Ah, Paris
What can I say? It was Paris. Photo montage, go!
First sight of the trip, Arc de Triomphe.
Are words necessary?
Still not sure I was actually there.
La nuit étoilée by Van Gogh in Musse d'Orsay. In the next few rooms surrounding this were also Reniors, Monets, Degas and other impressionists I've heard of and never thought I'd actually experience beyond books and computer screens. Definitely contends for the highlight of the trip.
More impressionism.
Sorry, couldn't help myself. It was soo tempting.
We couldn't find Nicole Kidman or Ewan McGregor.
So Mom, did I tell you our hotel was a block outside of the red light district?
Inside the National Opera House, the home of the Phantom.
Yep, I was really there.
There she is. So tiny. So much hype. But we actually saw her smile.
70 meters square, Wedding Feast at Cana by Paolo Caliari dit Veronese. One of the largest paintings in the museum and directly across the room from Mona Lisa.
When in doubt, follow the Asians.
Do you really want to know?
Some art from the Islamic section.
Notre Dame.
More for the Catholics.
River Seine at night. Muah.
Tour Eiffel at night. Gorgeous. And we actually went up in it this time. Great way to end our trip.
First sight of the trip, Arc de Triomphe.
Are words necessary?
Still not sure I was actually there.
La nuit étoilée by Van Gogh in Musse d'Orsay. In the next few rooms surrounding this were also Reniors, Monets, Degas and other impressionists I've heard of and never thought I'd actually experience beyond books and computer screens. Definitely contends for the highlight of the trip.
More impressionism.
Sorry, couldn't help myself. It was soo tempting.
We couldn't find Nicole Kidman or Ewan McGregor.
So Mom, did I tell you our hotel was a block outside of the red light district?
Inside the National Opera House, the home of the Phantom.
Yep, I was really there.
There she is. So tiny. So much hype. But we actually saw her smile.
70 meters square, Wedding Feast at Cana by Paolo Caliari dit Veronese. One of the largest paintings in the museum and directly across the room from Mona Lisa.
When in doubt, follow the Asians.
Do you really want to know?
Some art from the Islamic section.
Notre Dame.
More for the Catholics.
River Seine at night. Muah.
Tour Eiffel at night. Gorgeous. And we actually went up in it this time. Great way to end our trip.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Where's Nessie?
OK. So, Nessie.
When we went to Edinburgh it was a school-organized trip and lucky for me, four of my flatmates came too. Thus, we were destined to have a fantastic time. But I’m pretty sure I could have gone to Edinburgh completely by myself and the city is just so differently cool, I still would have had a good time.
All we did in the city was walk the Royal Mile, visit the castle and a wool mill and hit up a couple pubs — and it’s still right up there contending for my favorite U.K. city. I’m not sure how to describe it really. It’s old, very old. It’s got character cities in the U.S. only think about trying to reproduce. It’s like London, but better. Cleaner, quieter. More relaxed. And it’s very welcoming. It had the same Georgian architecture as Bath. But somehow it came off in a less pretentious way. Maybe it was just the wool and whiskey shops every where we turned that made it that way, tucked in between the pubs and the churches with the castle overlooking it all. Maybe it was the ocean right beside it and the Scottish pride that seeps from it and makes it reverberate. Whatever it is, any U.K. visitors should put it at the top of their lists.
I spent more money in Edinburgh than any other city I’ve visited. Whisky and wool, what more do I need to say. But it was worth it. Additionally, we stumbled across this little pub, tried haggis and Scottish ales for lunch, absolutely intriguing. The ales I would try again, the haggis, not so much. It was worth one shot though.
Afterward, we went to the castle. It sits on a cliff face that overlooks the city. Fantastic view, great photos. And we had good weather for once. Then we went to the wool mill next door where I bought my new favorite winter accessories, a pair of hand warmers that match every piece of clothing I brought with me and my two favorite jackets every. So I’m not really sure how I’m going to function without them when summer comes around. But I guess I’ll make due.
We were back at the hostel by 5 p.m. We were still exhausted from the trip and though we had every intention of going back to New Town to catch the night scene, our hostel bar was very enticing, served us cheap dinner and drinks and let us play pool. We were content for the night. And after all, we had scheduled a Highlands tour with the final destination being Loch Ness the next day. We had to get our beauty sleep — couldn’t have those eyes being droopy when Nessie was about.
We left on a bus tour bright and early. There were maybe 15 or so people in our van and we had an authentically Scottish tour guide who provided entertaining commentary and story telling in his gorgeous, gorgeous Scottish accent almost the entire ride. I don’t care what anyone says, Scottish accents are the best. Irish are a little to heavy, English a bit to pretentious. Welsh is just OK. But Scottish. Oh my.
Anyway, we stopped to view scenery along the way, meet Hamish, the Highland bull who has lived in solitary since the epidemic of Mad Cow swept across the country and the local people campaign to save this little legend from slaughter. He was only slightly amused by our coaxing and cooing. Cassie was most excited. Damn Texan. She actually pissed him off a little bit. Or was it her and Leah?
Moving on, again, bought way too many souvenirs on our stops. People at home, prepare. But eventually, we came to the first of the four major lochs we would pass on our journey and the mood of the trip changed from light-hearted amazement to anticipatory shivers of fear and the prospect of spotting Nessie grew closer and closer. Not really, but you get a great bit of imagery there, no?
The lochs definitely were cool. And just in case anyone really wants to know, loch is just the Scottish Gaelic name for lake. They also call mountains and valleys bends and glens, respectfully. Weirdos.
The four major lochs we drove by were Loch Dochfour, Loch Oich Loch Lochy and the last is Loch Ness. In 1803 construction on the Caledonian Canal was started. It was built to connect them all so ships could cut through the Atlantic Ocean to the North Sea more efficiently, kind of like the Panama Canal. But by the time it was finished officially in 1847, technology had made cargo ships too large to actually use it, so since then, it has only been used for leisure cruises and other small boats. Real efficient, eh?
We got to Loch Ness, more specifically, the little town of Fort Augustus, population circa. 600, and had just enough time to grab lunch at a pub before hoping on a Loch Ness boat cruise. We had our cameras, we’d had a pint a piece and we were raring to go. It was also misty and we froze our asses off. But damn it, we were going to spot that stinkin’ monster!
Halfway through our little hour long voyage, we gave up and went down below. And what do you know, they had bottles of a beer called Nessie. So of course I had to try it. I was just getting into it when I had Leah take a picture of me with my pint. She was flipping back through the camera to make sure she hadn’t captured a glare.
“Holy crap Jess, Nessie’s in your picture!”
I chuckled, leery of what I was sure was a speck on the camera or a fly on the window. Now before I tell you this next part, I want to clarify that I’d only had a pint and a half, very, very minor, casual drinking over the past two hours. But I looked at that picture and I did a double take. I zoomed in closer. There really was something behind me in the picture. Something distinctly not a speck or a fly.
I looked out the window, searching for whatever it was — a log, a big snake, a shadow. But there was nothing, just water. And then I saw it. On the window. A decal. In the shape of Nessie. So passengers could pretend to take pictures with Nessie in the background. They were in every window of the boat. But very, very effective, and entertaining. Even more so, I’m sure, after you’ve had some Scottish whiskey or more than a couple pints.
We heard the stories about the Loch Ness monster from our tour guide, from our cruise captain. Leah even told us a story about a supposed pliosaurus skeleton being pulled out of the lake. Most of the stories involved crazy people and alcohol. Mysterious pictures. Single-man sightings. I’m a bit skeptical. But at the same time, I can’t completely disregard it. It is a ginormous loch. It’s the largest body of fresh water in Great Britain, 754 feet deep at its lowest point with 16,430,000 gallons of water. There are a lot of places for a creature to hide, no matter how large it is.
We concluded our Highlands tour with a stop at a whiskey shop. I bought half a liter of whisky mead. The sample I had tasted exactly as I pictured butterbeer would. I’ll try to save it until I get home for all to sample, but there are not any guarantees.
The rest of our trip was rounded out with dinner at Bella Italia, an excellent U.K. chain restaurant and a couple pints at a pub called Deacon Brodies. The next morning, we went down to the beach our hostel was on and touched the North Sea and collected sea glass. All in all, it was an excellent experience.
Pictured above: The Royal Mile, haggis balls and Scottish ales, view of Edinburgh from the castle, Hamish, view of the Highlands, Leah and Cassie hiding from the cold and Nessie, my obliviousness, the beginning of Loch Ness, Amelia and Kelli at the pub, the Firth of Forth near our hostel.
When we went to Edinburgh it was a school-organized trip and lucky for me, four of my flatmates came too. Thus, we were destined to have a fantastic time. But I’m pretty sure I could have gone to Edinburgh completely by myself and the city is just so differently cool, I still would have had a good time.
All we did in the city was walk the Royal Mile, visit the castle and a wool mill and hit up a couple pubs — and it’s still right up there contending for my favorite U.K. city. I’m not sure how to describe it really. It’s old, very old. It’s got character cities in the U.S. only think about trying to reproduce. It’s like London, but better. Cleaner, quieter. More relaxed. And it’s very welcoming. It had the same Georgian architecture as Bath. But somehow it came off in a less pretentious way. Maybe it was just the wool and whiskey shops every where we turned that made it that way, tucked in between the pubs and the churches with the castle overlooking it all. Maybe it was the ocean right beside it and the Scottish pride that seeps from it and makes it reverberate. Whatever it is, any U.K. visitors should put it at the top of their lists.
I spent more money in Edinburgh than any other city I’ve visited. Whisky and wool, what more do I need to say. But it was worth it. Additionally, we stumbled across this little pub, tried haggis and Scottish ales for lunch, absolutely intriguing. The ales I would try again, the haggis, not so much. It was worth one shot though.
Afterward, we went to the castle. It sits on a cliff face that overlooks the city. Fantastic view, great photos. And we had good weather for once. Then we went to the wool mill next door where I bought my new favorite winter accessories, a pair of hand warmers that match every piece of clothing I brought with me and my two favorite jackets every. So I’m not really sure how I’m going to function without them when summer comes around. But I guess I’ll make due.
We were back at the hostel by 5 p.m. We were still exhausted from the trip and though we had every intention of going back to New Town to catch the night scene, our hostel bar was very enticing, served us cheap dinner and drinks and let us play pool. We were content for the night. And after all, we had scheduled a Highlands tour with the final destination being Loch Ness the next day. We had to get our beauty sleep — couldn’t have those eyes being droopy when Nessie was about.
We left on a bus tour bright and early. There were maybe 15 or so people in our van and we had an authentically Scottish tour guide who provided entertaining commentary and story telling in his gorgeous, gorgeous Scottish accent almost the entire ride. I don’t care what anyone says, Scottish accents are the best. Irish are a little to heavy, English a bit to pretentious. Welsh is just OK. But Scottish. Oh my.
Anyway, we stopped to view scenery along the way, meet Hamish, the Highland bull who has lived in solitary since the epidemic of Mad Cow swept across the country and the local people campaign to save this little legend from slaughter. He was only slightly amused by our coaxing and cooing. Cassie was most excited. Damn Texan. She actually pissed him off a little bit. Or was it her and Leah?
Moving on, again, bought way too many souvenirs on our stops. People at home, prepare. But eventually, we came to the first of the four major lochs we would pass on our journey and the mood of the trip changed from light-hearted amazement to anticipatory shivers of fear and the prospect of spotting Nessie grew closer and closer. Not really, but you get a great bit of imagery there, no?
The lochs definitely were cool. And just in case anyone really wants to know, loch is just the Scottish Gaelic name for lake. They also call mountains and valleys bends and glens, respectfully. Weirdos.
The four major lochs we drove by were Loch Dochfour, Loch Oich Loch Lochy and the last is Loch Ness. In 1803 construction on the Caledonian Canal was started. It was built to connect them all so ships could cut through the Atlantic Ocean to the North Sea more efficiently, kind of like the Panama Canal. But by the time it was finished officially in 1847, technology had made cargo ships too large to actually use it, so since then, it has only been used for leisure cruises and other small boats. Real efficient, eh?
We got to Loch Ness, more specifically, the little town of Fort Augustus, population circa. 600, and had just enough time to grab lunch at a pub before hoping on a Loch Ness boat cruise. We had our cameras, we’d had a pint a piece and we were raring to go. It was also misty and we froze our asses off. But damn it, we were going to spot that stinkin’ monster!
Halfway through our little hour long voyage, we gave up and went down below. And what do you know, they had bottles of a beer called Nessie. So of course I had to try it. I was just getting into it when I had Leah take a picture of me with my pint. She was flipping back through the camera to make sure she hadn’t captured a glare.
“Holy crap Jess, Nessie’s in your picture!”
I chuckled, leery of what I was sure was a speck on the camera or a fly on the window. Now before I tell you this next part, I want to clarify that I’d only had a pint and a half, very, very minor, casual drinking over the past two hours. But I looked at that picture and I did a double take. I zoomed in closer. There really was something behind me in the picture. Something distinctly not a speck or a fly.
I looked out the window, searching for whatever it was — a log, a big snake, a shadow. But there was nothing, just water. And then I saw it. On the window. A decal. In the shape of Nessie. So passengers could pretend to take pictures with Nessie in the background. They were in every window of the boat. But very, very effective, and entertaining. Even more so, I’m sure, after you’ve had some Scottish whiskey or more than a couple pints.
We heard the stories about the Loch Ness monster from our tour guide, from our cruise captain. Leah even told us a story about a supposed pliosaurus skeleton being pulled out of the lake. Most of the stories involved crazy people and alcohol. Mysterious pictures. Single-man sightings. I’m a bit skeptical. But at the same time, I can’t completely disregard it. It is a ginormous loch. It’s the largest body of fresh water in Great Britain, 754 feet deep at its lowest point with 16,430,000 gallons of water. There are a lot of places for a creature to hide, no matter how large it is.
We concluded our Highlands tour with a stop at a whiskey shop. I bought half a liter of whisky mead. The sample I had tasted exactly as I pictured butterbeer would. I’ll try to save it until I get home for all to sample, but there are not any guarantees.
The rest of our trip was rounded out with dinner at Bella Italia, an excellent U.K. chain restaurant and a couple pints at a pub called Deacon Brodies. The next morning, we went down to the beach our hostel was on and touched the North Sea and collected sea glass. All in all, it was an excellent experience.
Pictured above: The Royal Mile, haggis balls and Scottish ales, view of Edinburgh from the castle, Hamish, view of the Highlands, Leah and Cassie hiding from the cold and Nessie, my obliviousness, the beginning of Loch Ness, Amelia and Kelli at the pub, the Firth of Forth near our hostel.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Long time no post
So, after successful neglect of the blog, here comes a brief update. I'll try to fill in the holes later, but who knows if it'll actually happen.
Edinburgh was great, way better than I expected it to be. I saw the Loch Ness Monster. Mom and Shay came to London! We saw the queen and William and Harry. Then we went to Swansea and Cardiff and back to London! Now I'm here and I'm leaving for Paris Thursday. The end.
Just kidding.
But that was the short version. More later.
Edinburgh was great, way better than I expected it to be. I saw the Loch Ness Monster. Mom and Shay came to London! We saw the queen and William and Harry. Then we went to Swansea and Cardiff and back to London! Now I'm here and I'm leaving for Paris Thursday. The end.
Just kidding.
But that was the short version. More later.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Pics from Barca
So here's my trip in pictures, because words can't even begin to describe it. This is the order I saw/did things, except for the last pic. But it's my favorite.
Day 1
Part of the massive Marina.
The four trillion stairs up to Park Guell. (There were some escalatorsand you can't see them all.)
Central Park Guell.
Antoni Gaudi genius.
View from Park Guell.
Running into fellow Bobcats on the street. Randomness. For more info, see my column.
On the beach in front of our hostel. Amazing.
La Catedral during Mass.
For you Catholics, candles in La Catedral.
Sardana, traditional Catalan dance, taken seriously, in front of La Catedral.
Sangria and tortilla, the end.
Day 2
La Sagrada Familia. More Gaudi genius.
The Magic Fountain six minutes after it stopped running. Yes, we missed it.
Day 3
View of Barca.
Arc di Triomf. (Yes, there's one in Barcelona.)
Swimming at 8 a.m. in the Mediterranean. My favorite five minutes ever.
Day 1
Part of the massive Marina.
The four trillion stairs up to Park Guell. (There were some escalatorsand you can't see them all.)
Central Park Guell.
Antoni Gaudi genius.
View from Park Guell.
Running into fellow Bobcats on the street. Randomness. For more info, see my column.
On the beach in front of our hostel. Amazing.
La Catedral during Mass.
For you Catholics, candles in La Catedral.
Sardana, traditional Catalan dance, taken seriously, in front of La Catedral.
Sangria and tortilla, the end.
Day 2
La Sagrada Familia. More Gaudi genius.
The Magic Fountain six minutes after it stopped running. Yes, we missed it.
Day 3
View of Barca.
Arc di Triomf. (Yes, there's one in Barcelona.)
Swimming at 8 a.m. in the Mediterranean. My favorite five minutes ever.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Sex, Drugs and Making Memories
Yes I went to Amsterdam, no I didn't solicit a prostitute, and no, I didn't try drugs. But oh man, what a weekend.
It was about a 14 hour bus ride from Swansea to the Netherlands and to cross the English Channel we took a ferry from Dover to Calais, France. We spent a good amount of time driving through Belgium, but we didn't have time to stop to buy chocolate on the way home. Tear.
But once we finally got there, we checked into our hostel. There were about 50 of us, 3/4 American, another eighth Canadian, and the rest Spanish or English or Welsh.
Michelle, one of the Canudians, Carrie my flatmate from New Mexico, Margaret, a Welsh classmate from New York and I started visit with an ATM stop, mozzarella, tomato and pesto sandwiches and a CanalBus tour of the city. I took like a hundred pictures of buildings from the boat, all of which start to look the same, and by the middle of the second day, my camera was dead.
Thank goodness Carrie's still worked.
But anyway, after the CanalBus we took on the Heineken Experience, a tourist attraction that includes a walk through the original Heineken brewery, no longer in use, three beers and a "free gift" all for 10 euros. It was pretty cool, to be honest.
A bit buzzed, afterward we grabbed dinner at a Japanese restaurant where we had no idea what we were ordering. Oh, traveling. I ordered red wine and got something that was on ice with lemon and tasted like a cross between a Long Island and some kind of blush wine. My bill said it was sake, so maybe it was, but I really have no idea.
Anyway, then we went to the Van Gogh Museum. It was incredible to look at his work. No, they don't have Starry Night there, that's in New York. But they did have more than 200 of his paintings, from all his different eras. Carrie and Michelle didn't enjoy it as much, but they're not really van Gogh fans either. There was live music in the main gallery that could be heard throughout the building and also Monets and Manets and Paul Gaugins. I loved it.
We headed back to the hostel after that, it was late and we hadn't really slept well except on the two-hour ferry ride. We hung out in the hostel bar and caught up with all the other little groups of Swansea students that were tired too before we went to bed.
The next day, we slept in a bit, had breakfast at the hostel. It was like having lunchmeat sandwiches, toast with the Dutch version of Nutella, juice and tiny cups of strong coffee. I'm not complaining, it just definitely wasn't a normal American breakfast.
We used one last ride on the CanalBus to get to the northwest side of Amsterdam, where the Anne Frank House is. We waited in line about an hour to get in, but it was totally worth it. It was a very sobering experience, thinking about how she and seven other people had lived there for years before being found. It was larger than I expected, but still very small for so many people. Unlike when I went to the Jane Austen exhibit, I'd actually read the Diary of Anne Frank. It was a few years ago, but with the few quotes posted in the rooms and being able to put a real visual with her words, I remembered it a lot more clearly than I thought I would.
Our plan after that was to grab lunch and head back to the hostel before meeting some other people to go to the Red Light District later that night. But I was navigator, and between eating lunch, taking a detour to stop in a shop and go through a flea market, I got turned around and we walked in the wrong direction for about 15 minutes, making twists and turns until we finally asked someone.
When I say most of Amsterdam looks the same, I mean the part around the canals. There are three concentric main canals and several others that cross and parallel them, making the city look like a spider web from a bird's eye view.
Once we figured out where we were on the map, we were fine. We were just 45 minutes north of where we wanted to go. We made it back, but I thought Carrie was going to kill me. All she wanted to do that afternoon was buy a pin from Hard Rock for her dad. We got there. We just took the scenic route.
The rest of us bought trinkets and scarves and hats from a street vendor. Then we met up with the other group back at the hostel, got ready for the night and went back to where we'd been a few hours before.
We walked parallel to the Red Light District down Ronkin to the Sex Museum. Now that was entertaining. It was only 3 euros to get in. Hilariousness. It was what I expected. A lot of photographs, older and newer, and a lot of old drawings dating to before photography. There were also several, um, artifacts, and a special exhibit about Marilyn Monroe. It made me proud to be an American.
After that, the ten of us walked over to Warmeosstraat, two blocks west of the central Red Light District. I'm pretty sure every person we saw there was stoned. The street is full of coffeeshops where brownies and what not are served. Highly entertaining.
It was still fairly early, maybe 9 or so, and we were in Amsterdam. So we decided to suck it up and walk down the main drag of the Red Light District.
You hear about it, you see random pictures sometimes, but, at least for me, there's something that says, "No, that's bullshit." But it was real. Red lights everywhere. Red curtains pulled in half the windows. And in the other half, there are prostitutes. Younger, older. Most of them strangely attractive. And all dressed to entice customers, but none of them completely naked.
I would guess that it was about a 10 to 1 male to female ratio, and of those men, they were anywhere from 20 to 50 years old. We saw an older, heavier guy trip and fall, flat on his face. I think he was trying to communicate with one of the hookers through her window, but he was so wasted, he just lost his balance and fell over in all his gesturing.
It took us about 10 minutes to cruise the street and you could feel a collective relief when we reached the end. It wasn't that we felt unsafe. It was just a really odd place to be.
We found a Mexican restaurant close to our hostel, had some dinner and then went back and hung out in the hostel bar until we couldn't stand it anymore. I was soo tired.
We left early the next morning. Overall, I liked Amsterdam. It was really a clean city, unique with the canals. If I lived there, I would die in the first year. Not because of the drugs or the sex elements, but because I would get hit by a bike. No joke.
According to the Amsterdam board of tourism, there are 600,000 bikes in the city. Almost every street has a separate lane for them, and where there's not, bikers have the right of way, above walking pedestrians and cars. Seriously. And while we're on numbers, there are almost 739,000 "inhabitants." That means about 80 percent of them ride bikes. It's craziness. They park them everywhere.
Also, there are 165 total canals, 2,500 houseboats, 141 Rembrandts, 206 van Goghs and almost 16 million visitors a year. Unbelievable.
So, in short, that was Amsterdam. It was cool. The end.
It was about a 14 hour bus ride from Swansea to the Netherlands and to cross the English Channel we took a ferry from Dover to Calais, France. We spent a good amount of time driving through Belgium, but we didn't have time to stop to buy chocolate on the way home. Tear.
But once we finally got there, we checked into our hostel. There were about 50 of us, 3/4 American, another eighth Canadian, and the rest Spanish or English or Welsh.
Michelle, one of the Canudians, Carrie my flatmate from New Mexico, Margaret, a Welsh classmate from New York and I started visit with an ATM stop, mozzarella, tomato and pesto sandwiches and a CanalBus tour of the city. I took like a hundred pictures of buildings from the boat, all of which start to look the same, and by the middle of the second day, my camera was dead.
Thank goodness Carrie's still worked.
But anyway, after the CanalBus we took on the Heineken Experience, a tourist attraction that includes a walk through the original Heineken brewery, no longer in use, three beers and a "free gift" all for 10 euros. It was pretty cool, to be honest.
A bit buzzed, afterward we grabbed dinner at a Japanese restaurant where we had no idea what we were ordering. Oh, traveling. I ordered red wine and got something that was on ice with lemon and tasted like a cross between a Long Island and some kind of blush wine. My bill said it was sake, so maybe it was, but I really have no idea.
Anyway, then we went to the Van Gogh Museum. It was incredible to look at his work. No, they don't have Starry Night there, that's in New York. But they did have more than 200 of his paintings, from all his different eras. Carrie and Michelle didn't enjoy it as much, but they're not really van Gogh fans either. There was live music in the main gallery that could be heard throughout the building and also Monets and Manets and Paul Gaugins. I loved it.
We headed back to the hostel after that, it was late and we hadn't really slept well except on the two-hour ferry ride. We hung out in the hostel bar and caught up with all the other little groups of Swansea students that were tired too before we went to bed.
The next day, we slept in a bit, had breakfast at the hostel. It was like having lunchmeat sandwiches, toast with the Dutch version of Nutella, juice and tiny cups of strong coffee. I'm not complaining, it just definitely wasn't a normal American breakfast.
We used one last ride on the CanalBus to get to the northwest side of Amsterdam, where the Anne Frank House is. We waited in line about an hour to get in, but it was totally worth it. It was a very sobering experience, thinking about how she and seven other people had lived there for years before being found. It was larger than I expected, but still very small for so many people. Unlike when I went to the Jane Austen exhibit, I'd actually read the Diary of Anne Frank. It was a few years ago, but with the few quotes posted in the rooms and being able to put a real visual with her words, I remembered it a lot more clearly than I thought I would.
Our plan after that was to grab lunch and head back to the hostel before meeting some other people to go to the Red Light District later that night. But I was navigator, and between eating lunch, taking a detour to stop in a shop and go through a flea market, I got turned around and we walked in the wrong direction for about 15 minutes, making twists and turns until we finally asked someone.
When I say most of Amsterdam looks the same, I mean the part around the canals. There are three concentric main canals and several others that cross and parallel them, making the city look like a spider web from a bird's eye view.
Once we figured out where we were on the map, we were fine. We were just 45 minutes north of where we wanted to go. We made it back, but I thought Carrie was going to kill me. All she wanted to do that afternoon was buy a pin from Hard Rock for her dad. We got there. We just took the scenic route.
The rest of us bought trinkets and scarves and hats from a street vendor. Then we met up with the other group back at the hostel, got ready for the night and went back to where we'd been a few hours before.
We walked parallel to the Red Light District down Ronkin to the Sex Museum. Now that was entertaining. It was only 3 euros to get in. Hilariousness. It was what I expected. A lot of photographs, older and newer, and a lot of old drawings dating to before photography. There were also several, um, artifacts, and a special exhibit about Marilyn Monroe. It made me proud to be an American.
After that, the ten of us walked over to Warmeosstraat, two blocks west of the central Red Light District. I'm pretty sure every person we saw there was stoned. The street is full of coffeeshops where brownies and what not are served. Highly entertaining.
It was still fairly early, maybe 9 or so, and we were in Amsterdam. So we decided to suck it up and walk down the main drag of the Red Light District.
You hear about it, you see random pictures sometimes, but, at least for me, there's something that says, "No, that's bullshit." But it was real. Red lights everywhere. Red curtains pulled in half the windows. And in the other half, there are prostitutes. Younger, older. Most of them strangely attractive. And all dressed to entice customers, but none of them completely naked.
I would guess that it was about a 10 to 1 male to female ratio, and of those men, they were anywhere from 20 to 50 years old. We saw an older, heavier guy trip and fall, flat on his face. I think he was trying to communicate with one of the hookers through her window, but he was so wasted, he just lost his balance and fell over in all his gesturing.
It took us about 10 minutes to cruise the street and you could feel a collective relief when we reached the end. It wasn't that we felt unsafe. It was just a really odd place to be.
We found a Mexican restaurant close to our hostel, had some dinner and then went back and hung out in the hostel bar until we couldn't stand it anymore. I was soo tired.
We left early the next morning. Overall, I liked Amsterdam. It was really a clean city, unique with the canals. If I lived there, I would die in the first year. Not because of the drugs or the sex elements, but because I would get hit by a bike. No joke.
According to the Amsterdam board of tourism, there are 600,000 bikes in the city. Almost every street has a separate lane for them, and where there's not, bikers have the right of way, above walking pedestrians and cars. Seriously. And while we're on numbers, there are almost 739,000 "inhabitants." That means about 80 percent of them ride bikes. It's craziness. They park them everywhere.
Also, there are 165 total canals, 2,500 houseboats, 141 Rembrandts, 206 van Goghs and almost 16 million visitors a year. Unbelievable.
So, in short, that was Amsterdam. It was cool. The end.
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