Amsterdam. Was Good? Was Great!

When thinking back on our time in Amsterdam, I don't even know where to begin when trying to describe just what a great time we all had. I guess I'll just start from the beginning...

Touching down in Amsterdam early Friday morning after almost 24 hours in transit, I had no idea of where to go or what to expect. It was definately a major one of those "Well... what now?" moments. Trying to gain our bearings, we took a seat at Burger King, Schiphol Airport and attempted to eat breakfast without inhaling too much cigarette and "happy smoke". After a few photos of us posing beneath massive Amsterdam airport signs (and one of some lady's massive butt, don't ask me how that got in there), we headed down to catch the train. With our second-class ticket in hand and a train about to set sail we jumped in the nearest cabin, which turned out to be first-class, and giggled like schoolgirls the whole way to Amsterdam city from all the excitement.

Since we weren't really sure when we could make it to Irma's brother, Arnold's place to stay for a few nights, we had no reservation but were (un)fortunate enough to get a room for the night at Hans Brinker Budget Hotel - "Now with FREE flushing!". I had a massive blonde moment when the lady told us the price of our room. Completely overcome by the whole experience I asked "Is that in Amsterdam dollars?". She gave me a weird kind of look before I realized what I'd just said. Dumping our stuff and getting out of there as soon as possible, we wandered around senselessly and maplessly for a good few hours before spontaneously deciding to hire a bike for the day on a coffee-inspired rush. To anyone that's planning on going to Amsterdam, I highly recommend getting a bike as soon as you get there and riding around in the morning for a few hours. You really get a great sense of the place as well as learning all the hot spots to go (along with one red-hot spot!), it's definately a highlight of my trip.

Once we'd had enough of riding around (that is, Kat had fallen off or almost been run over a few too many times and I'd almost been flattened by a tram) we headed back to the hostel to move our stuff into our... "room". Leaving the good ol' Hans with a foul taste in our mouths, we headed to Rembrandtplein to wash them out with some divine tapas and beer (side note, from here on out, whenever I mention food it's quite safe to assume it was 'and beer'). Shout out to the little kitty that kept jumping up into my lap for some calamari (or perhaps the beer, he was walking a little funny come to think of it). One thing I noticed in Amsterdam was how often people asked if it "Was good? Was good?". Coffee, bike hire, lunch, trying on clothes... I wonder if the red-light-ladies extend the same politeness to their 65 Euro 'SnF' customers. How do I know the price you ask? Keep guessing...

During one last tipsy ride back to the bike depot we stumbled upon the Red Light District, which was interesting to say the least. There were ladies in little rooms with windows and a door everywhere. One scrag was standing in her doorway having a cigarette with one hand and trying her best to entice any of the numerous pommy louts with the other. Some guy in one of the laneways asked me if I wanted to get a piercing, and told me if I got everything pierced I'd get a discount. We headed back to the hostel for Happy Hour, and even though it was Amsterdam, the happy hour there was of the traditional type. As opposed to happy three hours down at the 'White Dolphin' shortly after, but I'm putting that and many other stories from Europe in the 'zipped file'.

I'll say this though - Pringles and Peanut M&M's rule.

It's amazing how long the sun stays up for in Europe. It was still light when we got back to the Hans at 10pm, which didn't help the jet lag at all. We fell asleep that night in our dirty hostel after twenty minutes of eating without saying a word while our crazy French dormies burnt incence, got drunk and basically displayed some of that great 'French charm'. I woke up in the middle of the night with Kat literally curled up in a ball at my feet (do I need to point out the irony?).

The next morning we got breakfast at the hostel restaurant, your standard toast, cheese and ham combo I've come to discover is the only breakfast hostels know how to dish out. We then went shopping for our clothes for Sensation White and decided on the spot we'd go along as tennis players for the night. After buying our whole outfit for less than 100 Euro each, we thought we'd get all the touristy type stuff out of the way while we still had the chance. I couldn't imagine anything worse than walking through the Anne Frank house after a huge night partying in Amsterdam.

We stumbled upon the Anne Frank house after spending far too much time searching for a mango smoothie (and only finding alcohol - the first time ever it was actually a problem). The queue wasn't too bad at that stage so we decided to go ahead with it. The place is incredibly moving. From the moment you walk in you're completely immersed in the Anne Frank world. Miniature house models, video footage of the opression with diary entry voiceovers, excerpts from the diary all over the walls along with posters and equipment from the jam company the office was originally used for... and that's just the museum next door.

There's an eery feeling about walking into the actual Anne Frank house where it all happened. There may be tens of people around you at any one time but no one says a word, completely captivated by the overwhelmingly sad yet sometimes cutesy heroic story the house has to tell. The most intense part of the tour is when you walk up the practically vertical stairs into her room where you can still see all the magazing cutouts she posted on her wall, one of the very few normal things she ever got to do as a teenager. Some people in the room were so touched they were even crying. It's not a pleasant place to experience but it's definately a tale that needs to be told. One thing that got to me was that if this is how strongly the story of one person can sadden you, how would anyone cope with all of the many other stories that have gone untold during that time?

The Van Gogh Museum was next after lunch. We discovered a massive ferris wheel on our way there which we were both more than happy to jump on. The view was breathtaking. The city of Amsterdam itself feels rather small compared with others but the amount of surrounding buildings and their architecture was quite simply phenomonal. I managed to get an amateur 360 video, finding it humanly impossible to keep turning towards the end and almost falling awkwardly from my seat.

Inside the Van Gogh museum and I'd have to say the place was... well... interesting? I guess I'm not really much of an art gallery type. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed walking around and seeing some impressive techniques as well as the original pieces that have become world renowned, but those moments were few and far between. More embarassingly, I tried to get into the swing of things - you know, "His hand held the paintbrush that stroked the canvas I'm standing right in front of" and "Wow, doesn't his artwork get much more defined towards the end", but I ended up sounding like a prize fool. Lesson learnt - never step foot inside an art gallery again. Incredible boredom ensues.

Meeting up with Irma, her brother Arnold and her boyfriend Grant, so began our wild, authentic Amsterdam experience.