My junior year of college I went to Europe for a month. Three weeks in Paris and one in Amsterdam. This week’s post is about Amsterdam. I feel like I need to prove that I do things without Sam. Like go places. Amsterdam for example.
I stayed in the Flying Pig hostel. It is one of the most famous grungy student hostels in Amsterdam. There was a bar inside the hostel boasting of “the cheapest pints in Amsterdam.” They were only 1 euro so it was probably a very true claim. In fact, I know for certain that there were 3 or 4 guys in the hostel that hadn’t actually left the premises in at least 1 week.
(What do you appreciate more: the lamppost in the middle of my picture or my shadow?
So the most terrifying thing about Amsterdam were the bicyclists. They take no prisoners. If you are in their way they will hit you. Which doesn’t sound super terrifying except that there are more bicycles in Amsterdam then people. And they all seem to be on the road at once.
(I saw a bunch of drunken local boys throw bikes into the canal. It seemed like it was a super common thing too. Kids these days.)
The thing that made me double-take every time on evenings out was watching men use the pissoirs. I guess it eliminates peeing in a back alleyway (if you’re a man) but there can’t be anything less dignified then peeing in this metal cage in the middle of the sidewalk.
(Just imagine a man in there doing his business.)
Amsterdam isn’t all drug dens, Heineken brewery tours, red-light district and sex museums. In fact, I had a better time in the Van Gogh museum then I have had in other museum in the world. It’s stunning. And then there’s the Anne Frank house, which everyone needs to go to. It’s one of the most moving testaments of human will that I’ve ever seen.
(Anne Frank House)
I made so many random friends from this trip and I am still in touch with a few of them. I guess that’s what happens when you sleep in one room. It’s a bit what I imagine living in a frat house would be like…but if all the brothers slept in one room.
(The girl in the hostel bunk above mine.)
(Obviously I need to end this post with the Amsterdam “boob”.
Yep. That’s a boob being groped.)
