Once in Amsterdam, it was already dinner time, so we made our way to the Pancake Corner in Leidseplein Square, where we ended up eating three different times. Pancake House Round One: ribs, a baked potato, and a salad. Oh man, was it good. And I’m not even big on red meat. We picked up Kate’s friend, Joe, from the train station after dinner and headed back to the hostel with incredibly obnoxiously colored and textured wallpaper that actually worked really well for the place. We explored the city for a while that night, wandering around and appreciating the brightly colored lights and leaning Dutch architecture that fits the city so well.
In the morning, we set out for the “I Amsterdam” sign at Museum Park, where we posed, climbed, and avoided stomping on the small children who were doing the same things, though much more aptly than we were. The parks and general activity level of Europeans is something that I always appreciated walking around the cities. Parents with children, groups of tweens, couples, and the elderly are constantly walking around the parks, sitting on the benches, playing with their dogs, or just being outside.
After the sign, we trekked to the Anne Frank House where we encountered a massive line and decided to come back another time. Instead, we had a coffee and lunch at the Pancake House. The Netherlands are known for their pancakes, but I didn’t think it was possible for them to be so delicious. I had a pancake with meats, cheeses, and peppers, called the Hungarian, and I was unsure about not putting sugary business on a pancake, but I’m so glad I did. Delicious.
After lunch we set off for the Van Gogh Museum (pronounced van-gog! Who knew?) and spent a few hours looking at his paintings along with those of several other artists. Van Gogh spent a significant part of his life in southern France, so a number of the paintings looked familiar to us because, well, we lived there! Scenes of Mount St. Victoire, Cassis, the café at Arles. Connections to artwork like this make me appreciate my time in France so much more, and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have been where I have been. I also found the cover of my favorite author’s book (David Sedaris’ When You Are Engulfed in Flames), which is apparently a Van Gogh painting. Again, who knew?
We called it an early night and went back to the hostel where I promptly proceeded to fall asleep before 8:00pm, waking up the next morning when Roz shook me awake at almost 9:00am. Needless to say, I was well rested! We made the Anne Frank House our first stop in an effort to avoid the lines, but no such luck. Almost two hours and several souvenirs later, we were finally admitted and walked through the downstairs that functioned as the warehouse where Otto Frank worked before making our way to the Secret Annex where the two families spent around two years in hiding. Words can’t describe the somber attitude of the dozens of people that we toured the house with, the unbelievable tragedies and atrocities of World War II running through everyone’s minds. It was a humbling experience.
After the house, we made our way back through the streets of Amsterdam which deserve some attention. First, EVERYONE is on a bike, and the bike traffic is super dangerous if you’re not accustomed to it. We weren’t. The bikers have their own mini-lane on the sidewalks or streets that are almost all curved and pass over the series of canals that run through the city. Bikes are locked up and parked everywhere all along the streets. They sit in front of angled and lop-sided looking buildings as far as the eye can see. Which is again dangerous to focus on for fear of walking into a bike path. Or a tram path. Instead of buses, the trams serve as the city’s form of public transport, making the streets four times as wide as a typical street in some places, but only big enough for a tram to run through in others. Hectic.
We walked through the Red Light district during the day where there were still windows open and prostitutes sitting in the windows in lingerie, either painting their nails, posing on the chairs or against the walls, or just looking out. This was the only time we walked through the streets, and I’m glad that it was. Maybe ninety percent of the windows were closed, but based on the stories I’ve heard of men walking along, coming and going, threatening looking pimps guarding the doors, I think I got my fill. The diversity of Amsterdam still astonishes me.
That night, I watched the Champions League final, Chelsea versus Bayern Munich, which was one of the more exciting games I've seen in a very long time. I even had some friendly banter back and forth with the guy working the desk at the hostel as the teams went into overtime. With no goals in overtime, they went into penalty kicks, which really suck as a player, but are fantastically exciting as a spectator. I was on my feet by the end of the game when Drogba sunk the winning PK, winning the championship for Chelsea. WOO! Immediately after the game, we made our way out to celebrate Michelle's twenty-first birthday. After such a great couple of days and my team's win, I couldn't have been in better spirits. We danced the night away and were even let into a club for free, the bouncer waving us through, just like in the movies. Couldn't have asked for a better last night in Amsterdam.
We took off the next day for Brussels where we sought out our Belgian beer, chocolate, and waffles and promptly accomplished our mission. We wandered the streets on the way back since it was nearly eleven and everything was closing up, but we did get to see the Mannequin Pis, or the “peeing statue.” Literally. The statue is of a little boy peeing. It’s got to be the funniest famous monument I’ve ever seen. Those Belgians! We also saw some great architecture and ended up in this great big square, surrounded by what looked like a great big cathedral and a parliament-type building, but it was so dark and nothing was open we couldn’t quite tell. I would definitely like to make the trip back to Brussels and spent some proper time there instead of just passing through.
We returned to Aix the next morning where I began to study again for my two last exams the following day. Not the best scheduling on my part, but I think the exams went as well as I could have hoped, though I still have yet to receive my final grades, even though it’s been two months now. Biggest European criticism: efficiency. I mean, good grief.
With the load of exams off my back, I spent the next several days packing up, cleaning the apartment, and catching every ray of sun that I could at Marseille, as well as saying goodbye/see you later to my dear friends.
Caitlin, my dear, I had so much fun traipsing through Italy and Croatia with you, and I don’t know anyone that can make me laugh at the most outrageous things like you can, and I love you for it! You see the beauty in everything, and I congratulate you on graduation, knowing that you’re going to do great things.
Carly, roomie, thank you for being a great friend and wonderful roommate. There aren’t many people you can share such close quarters with and still get along, and I’m so glad we both fell in love with the yellow apartment where we shared and hosted so many great memories. You were always there for me to lend an ear or advice, and I totally miss your crepes!
Roz, where do I start? You were one of the very first people I had a real conversation with in Aix, and you turned out to be the greatest friend I could have hoped for. We did so much together, went so many places, and got to know each other so well, and I had the best times with you. You’re a true, loyal, genuine friend, and I love you for it! Thanks for being there, and for keeping me in line with that look of yours that we all know, fear, and love.
Thank you girls, grand bisou mes salopes!
I took off from Marseille on May 29 for London, where I fondly remembered my trip through the UK, as well as Australia since so many of the brands and the stupid spelling are the same. When I touched down in Chicago, a heavy relief flooded me to be back in the states where things are familiar, efficient, and spelled correctly! As I watched the security tape play on repeat, the waving American flag and American accented “Welcome to the United States of America” choked me up every time. And it was a long line through customs. I paid for my Sam Adams draft at the Chicago bar with American money and left a tip for the bartender, all unusual yet familiar things.
When I finally landed in Cincinnati, I nearly burst out of the plane and sprinted through the deserted hallways of CVG international airport at 11:30pm and around the corner where I surprised my family, the plane having landed a bit early. This was unfortunate considering the time and effort my awesome sister put into a t-shirt and light up sign welcoming me home, but nothing else seemed to matter, other than that I was home and with my family.
Here and there,
Kiley
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