Eurotrip Day 21: I Am(sterdam)

We awoke hoping that Amsterdam would be more fun during the day than it had been at night. Breakfast wasn't too shabby, with hot toast and a selection of cold meats and cheeses to enjoy it with. We rushed breakfast a little, though, so we could pop into the pharmacy quickly to get more cough mixture, since we were running out. Seems the cough syrup is becoming less and less palatable as we purchase the favourites of different countries.

The bus was actually waiting for us that morning (the same one that had been AWOL the night before) and dropped us off in town where we'd been foolishly waiting for it merely a few hours before. Nicole and I, as it turned out, were the only two people from our whole tour that had opted not to go to the Anne Frank museum, so we are the only two that alighted.

We headed down the meaning shopping street towards the temporary location of the Van Gogh museum, since the original location was under renovation. Despite it being past 8am, none of the shops were yet open, great news for my wallet. Well, there was one open shop, actually, where I bought of beautifully beaded boots that were on sale for next to nothing. The only pair left in my size were the display pair, so I was lucky to get them!

They also happened to be quite heavy, I noticed, as the taffeta handles of the bag cut into my fingers, as we walked, and walked, and walked, and walked over and along dozens of canals until we finally got to the museum. Luckily, there wasn't a long queue, and we were inside viewing the original works of Van Gogh in no time. Nicole loved every moment of it, having taken art history.

At one point, we got to put my heavy shopping down and sit to watch a short film summarizing the life of Van Gogh (for those of us who didn't take art history). Possibly the most interesting thing for me was that Vincent didn't demonstrate much talent or even interest in art as a youngster, starting his self education in his late 20s. And look at him now! Well, he's dead, from having killed himself, after mutilating his ear, but still, he's got a whole museum dedicated to him. May be hope for me too ;)

The other half of the museum housed the works of other impressionist artists, which Nicole walked me through, giving me a personalized and amusing walking tour, while giving me the historical gossip of which artists had left their wives for younger women in foreign countries and contracted STDs in the process. It was a lot of fun.

We decided to walk to the I Amsterdam sign after that, doing our best not to get hit by any trams, bikes, or cars. It seems that everything tries to run you over in Amsterdam. I heard a lot of bike bells chiming all around me, since it seems that I am not that great at spotting oncoming cyclists. As we were going over yet another canal, I showed Nicole the position of the sun (not too high above the horizon) and asked her to guess the time. Although it still seemed quite early, it was in fact midday. Like all the shop owners, the sun just couldn't be bothered to get up.

As we were passing the Heineken Experience, which I'd love to go to one day, since it apparently has rides and interactive demonstrations and loads of fun things to do inside, Nicole had become well and truly gatvol of the tons of walking we'd been doing and made me stop at a coffee shop (without wifi) so that she could rest her feet. There, we saw a curious sign that said : we accept black money here. I asked the waitress what that meant, and she told me it meant that they accept illegal money, but didn't go into anymore detail than that. Very curious. John thinks it means that they accept foreign money.

There was more walking to be done after that as I overshot the Rjiks museum, where the I Amsterdam sign is, and took Nicole through a very pretty, picturesque park instead. As we were going through the park, Nicole asked me how heavy my luggage was getting, especially if I was going to be adding the heavy beaded shoes to my bag. Suddenly, I realised that I didn't even have the shoes with me. I'd left them in the cinema room at the Van Gogh museum!

There was no way in hell that Nicole would ever walk all the way back to fetch them (two hours away), and to be honest, I wasn't keen either, so we decided to hail a taxi. The first taxi we found was actually an airport transfer taxi, and the very sweet gentleman advised us that we could take a bus or tram for far less than a taxi, pointing us to the nearest bus stop. Once there, we spotted a city sightseeing bus that was headed to the Van Gogh exhibition, so we jumped on board. The very sweet bus driver told us to take a seat, and he'd personally let us know where to get off.

The bus ride alone took another 20 minutes, and I spent the whole trip convincing myself that there was no way my boots would still be in the building. I'm not joking, they were gorgeous. I'd have taken them if I'd found them (ok, maybe not, but I tend to assume the worst). When we finally got off the bus, I just about ran to the museum, leaving Nicole to hobble along in my wake with her increasingly painful ankle, to see if security had good news for me. A guy took me to his office and showed me the bag, asking if it was mine. I was so happy to see it that I told him I could hug him. "Oh, ok," he replied, opening his arms for the hug, "and nice shoes, by the way. Take care of them!"

Nicole, by that point had zero interest in the I Amsterdam sign and even less interest in walking even one step beyond the bus stop, so I bought us a couple more tickets to get back to the red light district where the Contiki bus would be picking us up. During our meandering the previous night, I'd seen a Wok To Walk stir fry take away that John had recommended to us, so we wanted to see if we could find it again and enjoy a late lunch there.

I had no idea where to go, so with the intent to save time, I popped into another restaurant to ask for directions. It was quite a cheeky thing to do, but the Dutch are incredibly friendly and helpful. They are also so good-looking! You know how some red-headed girls can be absolute knockouts? Well, I've never met a ginger guy that I'd consider to be in that league until we got directions from one in Amsterdam. The Afrikaaners should consider being called a Dutchman to be quite a compliment because they're just both nice people and nice to look at. Nothing wrong with that.

We found Wok To Walk, and I let Nicole sit down and rest her ankle while I ordered our food. It's quite a cute system, you get to pick a kind of noodle (like egg or udon), a filling (like chicken, pork, or mushrooms) and a sauce (like coconut or sweet and sour) so you build your own stir fry. It wasn't cheap, but goodness it was divine! It was a pretty big portion, too, which you eat straight out of a branded cardboard box, even if you aren't taking it away.

Before leaving the red light district, which smells heavily of weed at all times of the day, I wanted to take a daylight photograph of Belle, the patron saint of sex workers (wonder what the Pope thinks of that) who stands proudly before the city's oldest church. On the way, I got to see some of the cheaper cubby prostitutes, who put a lot more effort into their choice of lingerie than those in skinny alley. The expensive ladies just wait around in bikinis, while the cheaper ones have fishnets and garters and the works on. Maybe it's because the skinny ones are so busy that they need something easy to put on and take off. Or maybe they don't need to try as hard. Maybe a bit if both.

Anyway, as exciting as weed and prostitutes have proven to be for Nicole and I (not at all), we finally made our slow way back to the bus pickup point where we hoped the bus would actually be waiting for us this time! There, we found some other members of our tour waiting. It seemed that we weren't the only two that hadn't got much done in Amsterdam, partly because the queues for the other attractions, such as the Anne Frank museum were so long, and partly because some of them had decided to get high instead. They stood there giggling away as we waited for the bus.

We eventually were picked up (yay!) and got back to the hotel, where we hurriedly got ready for our night out. We only had half an hour to get dressed. In that time, Nicole beautifully did up her face, while I rushed around like the mad hatter putting on makeup and changing my whole outfit. I even did up my hair!

Dinner was in a little village near Amsterdam that was a 30 minute drive away. As we drove, I actually began nodding off, so I was looking forward to an early night, even though everyone else had plans to go out partying. Dinner itself was delicious, with Nicole finally getting to enjoy some steak that did not "taste like sadness" unlike the rest of the steak she'd tried so far. We got to enjoy some local wine with our meal, and finish off with some delicious apple strudel.

We then met up with the rest of our tour companions in Amsterdam (not everyone attended the dinner) so that we could go on a canal cruise together. This was intended to be our final party together as a group, since we had unlimited alcohol on the boat and it turned into something if a booze cruise. To kick the evening off, we were given shots in a glass bottle that we had to drink together after licking the top of the cap and sticking it to our foreheads. That's when the party got started.

I'm not really sure why it had to be a cruise, specifically, but we got to spot a few more prostitutes from the canal, and I managed to sneak a picture without fear of having my camera thrown into the canal. You're not actually allowed to take pictures of them, in order to protect their privacy. But, honestly, if you want privacy and don't want people taking photos of you, maybe don't stand in a huge lit up window in your underwear! #JustSaying

When the cruise finally came to an end, Nicole and I were all set to head back to the hotel for an early night when some of the girls on our tour convinced me to drag Nicole along and go out dancing with them. It was pretty much a repeat episode of what happened that night in Nice after Monaco, except that this time poor Nicole had a crippling ankles and was not at all impressed with me. I was too busy dancing, having a great time, getting lost, drinking, and taxi-hopping, though, to notice the pain she was in. In retrospect, I feel a bit bad about that, even though I had a really great time - better than New Years, even.

I don't remember everything that happened that night. I remember leaving a club and I remember getting back to our hotel room. In the middle there, apparently I tried to get Nicole to give one of the guys on our tour a thank you kiss for paying our taxi fare, saying that he deserved a kiss (from her, apparently, and not from me). I don't remember that at all, so I'm taking her word for it. She had to push him away, since he also thought he deserved a kiss and made us promise that if he came to South Africa that we would take him to District 9 and call him a prawn.

Anyway, it was well past midnight by the time we finally got to bed, and we had an early morning drive back to London awaiting us, so I went straight to bed, allowing my memory to reset itself during my sleep. Nicole wasn't so lucky....