Being a beautiful mess in Amsterdam.
When you love a place that much, it isn't hard to find yourself going back and reliving or recreating the experience. I didn't think I would end up returning to Amsterdam, but a couple of friends finally nudged me over the fence and onto the party side, and next minute I was waking up after three hours of sleep and heading across two countries on a boat full of like-minded party-goers.
I have never been on a tour before. Whenever I travel it is either by myself, or with one or two other people at most. So being one of 60 people was definitely something different. The good thing? So many new and fresh faces to get to know, so many choices of who to spend your time with. And I got to meet people that didn't even go to my university who were also international students of the same age. The bus ride was quite long but Jeff, the organiser and Olivier, the photographer for the weekend, were great company and injected plenty of humour into the trip.
My first priority when we got there was Maoz falafel wraps and I said a flat out 'no' to the sex museum in order to let my cravings be eased by happiness. I felt this was a great decision as there is no point walking around the red light district on an empty stomach. We ended up in some bar (Coco's Outback - what is it with me always ending up in the Aussie bars?) and after a few beers and some high spirits from the coffeeshop before, I was well on my way to a booty shaking championship with my fellow African and Greek comrades. Shakira came on and I was done.
The next day we woke up at a reasonable hour despite getting home at 4am and visited Anne Frank's Haus which was quite interesting. I have been told you need to read the book first though, and I hadn't done that. Afterwards, Monica and I made our way back to the centre of the city stopping in at Puccini Bon Bons (an out of this world ridiculous chocolate shop) and tasted heaven as it melted on our tongues.
What do you do after you've eaten chocolate? Second breakfast of the day. A six euro hot breakfast with sausage, bacon (BACON!!!!!!), eggs, baked beans and toast was exactly what the non-existent doctor ordered. Well, it's what Monica and I ordered, anyway. And man oh man. Happiness on a plate. We both continued wandering around aimlessly and spotted a sign that said "coffee" in a misty window hidden up past Place du Dam. Turns out to be a barber shop with a gorgeous androgynous girl serving the best coffee I have had since being in Europe. That's a whopping seven months later. We watched as dishevelled, hairy and forgotten men entered the store being 20 minutes later transformed into well cut diamonds of perfect lines and immovable coiffed curves. Luckily we were perched on stools or had a pinball machine to lean on because the specimens walking out made me weak at the knees.
That night was just another example of me finding a dancefloor and claiming it. The beer was 2 euros 20 a pint so naturally I was gone before we even stepped off the tram and into the dam. I somehow ended up in a confused reggae bar and then in the back of a taxi eating some brazilian girl's kebab before crashing once again.
Our last day we went to the bloom market (which is complimented by a row of cheese stores where you can taste test so of course I just went from outlet to outlet getting my daily calorie intake of gouda I mean what of it....), and then Francis, Monica and I found a gorgeous old bar to hide away in till the time past enough for us to head home, back to Paris. The company was strange but good on our weekend away. We met people and danced with people and smoked with people who we probably would never normally associate with for whatever reason in our normal lives and I do not regret it (except maybe, just maybe, 100 euros a day is a bit too much for a weekend away.....).
In Amsterdam you can be such a beautiful mess.
I have never been on a tour before. Whenever I travel it is either by myself, or with one or two other people at most. So being one of 60 people was definitely something different. The good thing? So many new and fresh faces to get to know, so many choices of who to spend your time with. And I got to meet people that didn't even go to my university who were also international students of the same age. The bus ride was quite long but Jeff, the organiser and Olivier, the photographer for the weekend, were great company and injected plenty of humour into the trip.
My first priority when we got there was Maoz falafel wraps and I said a flat out 'no' to the sex museum in order to let my cravings be eased by happiness. I felt this was a great decision as there is no point walking around the red light district on an empty stomach. We ended up in some bar (Coco's Outback - what is it with me always ending up in the Aussie bars?) and after a few beers and some high spirits from the coffeeshop before, I was well on my way to a booty shaking championship with my fellow African and Greek comrades. Shakira came on and I was done.
The next day we woke up at a reasonable hour despite getting home at 4am and visited Anne Frank's Haus which was quite interesting. I have been told you need to read the book first though, and I hadn't done that. Afterwards, Monica and I made our way back to the centre of the city stopping in at Puccini Bon Bons (an out of this world ridiculous chocolate shop) and tasted heaven as it melted on our tongues.
What do you do after you've eaten chocolate? Second breakfast of the day. A six euro hot breakfast with sausage, bacon (BACON!!!!!!), eggs, baked beans and toast was exactly what the non-existent doctor ordered. Well, it's what Monica and I ordered, anyway. And man oh man. Happiness on a plate. We both continued wandering around aimlessly and spotted a sign that said "coffee" in a misty window hidden up past Place du Dam. Turns out to be a barber shop with a gorgeous androgynous girl serving the best coffee I have had since being in Europe. That's a whopping seven months later. We watched as dishevelled, hairy and forgotten men entered the store being 20 minutes later transformed into well cut diamonds of perfect lines and immovable coiffed curves. Luckily we were perched on stools or had a pinball machine to lean on because the specimens walking out made me weak at the knees.
That night was just another example of me finding a dancefloor and claiming it. The beer was 2 euros 20 a pint so naturally I was gone before we even stepped off the tram and into the dam. I somehow ended up in a confused reggae bar and then in the back of a taxi eating some brazilian girl's kebab before crashing once again.
Our last day we went to the bloom market (which is complimented by a row of cheese stores where you can taste test so of course I just went from outlet to outlet getting my daily calorie intake of gouda I mean what of it....), and then Francis, Monica and I found a gorgeous old bar to hide away in till the time past enough for us to head home, back to Paris. The company was strange but good on our weekend away. We met people and danced with people and smoked with people who we probably would never normally associate with for whatever reason in our normal lives and I do not regret it (except maybe, just maybe, 100 euros a day is a bit too much for a weekend away.....).
In Amsterdam you can be such a beautiful mess.
