Amsterdam

I was lucky enough to be able to house/dog sit for a friend in Amsterdam. He lives outside of the center so it was nice to kind of get a feel for real life there. Unfortunately, every time I tried to walk to the center I got irrevocably lost, and ended up resigning myself to the bus after the first couple attempts. The first day there I walked into a bar way out of the way of everything to have lunch. Again, I was a little confused by the Dutch menu, but cheated by using my guide as opposed to ask for one in English.

The sandwiches were inexpensive and as I couldn’t decide between the ‘cheese’ one and the ‘hummus with roasted veggies’ one I ordered (and devoured) them both. They were delicious! I got some weird looks for also drinking both coffee and a glass of beer, but hey, what can you do. The bar was really cool, I’m fairly sure it slanted oddly, but floor, walls and angled ceiling were all a dark rich wood and the furniture was all old with a lot of character. There was a giant brown cat walking around, but politely staying off the tables and not bothering the patrons.

Damrak Street

After lunch I headed to the center and walked down some of the more touristy and well-known streets. I headed down Damrak, past all of the souvenir shops to the main plaza, Dam square, and from there into the red light district.

The Prostitute Windows
(I stole this picture from google
images- they get mad if they see
a camera)

It was surprising, yet not entirely unexpected to see all of the prostitutes in their little windows, especially the ones immediately opposite a giant old church. There was also a preschool between the church and a smoke shop, across the street from some of the prostitutes, which I decided I liked in theory.

The basement cultivation in
Cannabis College

There were also a ton of bakeries with the most beautiful pastries in the windows- some (but not all) containing special ‘happy’ ingredients. Out of curiosity I bought a space muffin to try later on back at the house.

Scandalous plates
recovered from Pompeii

After a while I decided to warm up inside somewhere, and it was then that I stumbled across the Sex Museum. (There was another ‘erotic museum’ that looked sketchy that I had passed earlier.) This one featured art about sex- dating from ancient Greece to present day, and it was actually fascinating! I felt a little dirty going in there on my own, but then really who cares. My favorite pieces were little porcelain figurines from Japan in the 16th century, as well as the photos from the late 1800s (They were the most creative).

Bloemenmarkt

The rest of that day was spent exploring the center, the canals, and even accidentally what seemed to be a little china-town section. I also stumbled across the Bloemenmarkt- the flower market- which was lovely. There you can find all sorts of bloomed flowers, as well as bulbs and seeds for tulips, orchids- you name it.
That night I bought some groceries to cook with at the house (And a block of Dutch cheese, of course). After dinner, I had one tentative bite of my Space muffin and passed on out nice and early. I had no desire to finish it and that was the extent of my Dutch drug usage.

Gassan Diamonds
(notice the ring on my pinkie!)

The next day I walked around some more (took Hercules, the dog, on a long walk in a nearby park) and ducked into a lot of shops for a break in the cold. One of the things the Netherlands are known for are their diamonds. I went into one of the largest manufacturing names- Gassan Diamonds- for a free tour. As I was the only one there at that time, I got my own private tour guide. We walked through the area where they were measuring and polishing the stones, then where they were setting and creating the jewelry. She described all of the ratings of a diamond, as well as the whole process very thoroughly. At the end, we went into a private gallery where one of my tour guide’s friends had been showing her designs. She opened it all back up for me and let me try on everything. While the 800,000 € earrings were a bit gaudy for my taste, there was a lovely, elegant white gold with diamonds and an emerald ring that was, in my opinion, very ‘me’. Finally I had to give it back and the tour continued, culminating in a free cup of coffee. A highly enjoyable event.

Van Gogh, self portrait

My plan for the following day had been to rent a bicycle (EVERYONE there rides them EVERYWHERE.) it was even colder and drizzlier than the previous days so despite my layers of long-underwear under my normal clothes I was so cold and miserable by the time that I arrived to the rental place that I just told them nevermind. Instead, I headed over to the museum district and decided to give the Van Gogh museum a go. (I van went? I gave it a gogh?) 

It was really interesting to see the progression of his work and actually very comparable to the Picasso museum in Barcelona. Sadly, there was only one reference to the ‘unfortunate ear incident’- I had kind of been hoping for the juicy details. Anyway, lots of gorgeous paintings (my favorites were the ones of the forest undergrowth and almond tree blossoms), as well as some live music on the ground floor.

Fun Dutch Facts

(from the Prostitute Information Center and Lonely Planet guidebook)

Cute little Dutch Pancakelets
(not sure what they're really called)

• One in ten Dutch youth aged 15 to 20 years has smoked pot in the past 30 days, one of the lowest rates in Europe.
• Prostitution was legalized here in 1810; brothels in the year 2000. All prostitutes must pay taxes.
• The nation that provides the most clients for the prostitutes is (big surprise here) England.
• The typical base-cost of a sexual encounter is 50€. This is usually a 15-minute ‘quickie’.

Belgium

Brussels

Grand Place, Brussels

So it turns out my plane didn’t go to Brusesls, but a small town about an hour outside called Charleroi. I ended up taking a bus into the town and then finding a hotel called Hotel Grande Cloche with a room overlooking one of Brussels better-known restaurants: Comme Chez Sol. The following morning I awoke super early and headed down to breakfast. (I love that it is typical for hotels and hostels here to include a breakfast!) The dining room was very pleasant, centered around a small buffet of meats, cheeses and breads. I ended up with orange juice, coffee, a croissant, two types of cheeses, ham, toast with nutella and a couple slices of tomato. When I got back to my table I realized that all of the place settings just had a knife. So I did another lap around the room in search of forks, with no success. When I sat back down I looked around and it appeared that no one had a fork, but no one else that I could see had the tomatoes. I started on the appropriate finger foods and waited until I was sure no one was looking at me to sneak bites of those. With tomato juice running down my hands surely someone noticed, but I felt pretty sneaky at the time. Regardless of being forkless, everything was delicious – especially the cheeses. I also particularly enjoyed the Tom Jones music playing in the background, namely ‘You can leave your hat on’ which placed three times while I was breakfasting.

The largest sugar bean in the world:
153 kg,  119 cm high

Afterwards I decided to walk down to the Grand Place (main square). It was huge and absolutely incredible! Very different architecture to anywhere I’ve been, the most comparable being Austria or Prague. I also passed more than a few chocolate shops and even a chocolate museum which I was unable to resist! It was very informative, especially the part discussing the different recipes for different types of chocolate where sampling was encouraged.

At the end of the exhibit was a room for demonstrations where a cute-as-the-dickens little man described to us very animatedly in French how he makes all of his creations (truffles, giant molds, the little cream-filled shells, etc). There were samples there too.

Manneken-Pis, Brussels

After leaving the museum I followed a group of Spanish tourists down the street who looked like they knew where they were going. They led me to an apparently famous statue of a little boy peeing, ‘el mannekin pis’. (pictured) This was surrounded by more chocolate shops and a few waffle stands. I wandered through the center of the town a little more before catching my train to Brugge (Bruges), one of the last barely-touched medieval Flemish towns.


Brugge
It was sunny when the train pulled into Brugge so I decided to walk from the station into the city center and find my hostel. It turns out... backpacks are really really heavy. I have trouble putting mine on if I have to pick it up from the floor and then I get all caught up in the straps and more often than not tip myself over. This has happened enough that I am no longer embarrassed by it.

Markt, Brugge

It was about a 20 minute walk into the town. This town is DARLING. They call it the ‘Venice of the North’. Little winding cobble stone streets with pointy houses all squished together. Very fairytale-village-esque. I finally made my way to the center and found my hostel without having to ask for directions from anyone! The place definitely had character- it’s motto was “just clean enough to be healthy, just dirty enough to be fun”. The main room was full of all sorts of interesting furniature pieces placed all hodge-podge around. (Like an upright piano in the corner, a giant old travel trunk as the stool- both under one of the four giant non-matching chandeliers.) The doors to the actual rooms were found along the small wooden curving staircase. I was in room #9.

Oops, I am getting ahead of myself- at this point I just dropped off the heavy backpack and headed back off to explore the town. It kept getting more and more charming- the buildings in the markt square were the stereotypical Flemish town image that comes to mind. Brugge is one of the cities with the largest amount secular gothic/medieval buildings in Europe. Right down a small shopping street leads to the Burg, which is also quite impressive architecturally.
I stopped for a late lunch in one of the small cafés I passed, a little out of the direct tourist area. I chose it because it appeared to have a very French-leaning menu. I ended up ordering the soup of the day (tomato based) and a quiche/croque monsieur type of main course. Both absolutely delicious!! (Especially exciting since the menu was in Dutch and I just kind of guessed and what I was ordering). I decided to save dessert for later.

After lunch I continued my exploration of the city, despite the fact that it was now drizzling. I walked around the canals, opted against the boat tours and followed along the side. I saw some beautiful homes, shops and darling little bridges. More than anything I saw shops for specialty chocolate, lace and beer.

One place I went into had a wall with one of every single of the 800ish Belgian beers on it. (I wonder if the 99 bottles of beer on the wall has Belgian origins?) I eventually caved and bought two truffles- one praline and one champagne, both of which were delicious.

 Finally the rain won me over and I headed back to the hostel. (By way of a waffle stand. Truly tasty, comparable to the Spanish Gofres.) It must be that I am just not used to hauling around that big ol’ backpack, but once in my room I took a nap, woke up later on for a little over an hour and then went back to sleep for the entire night.

Brugge fun facts:
• The typical Belgian toast is “santé!”, but in Brugge they say “up je mulle!”, literally translating to ‘on your face!’.
• The official symbol of the city is a bear. Incidentally, you hear the word a lot in colloquial conversation. Like something cool is ‘bérecool’ or ‘béresjiek’.

Along the Canals of Brugge

Spain2.1

Writing to you from the Granada bus station

And so begins Round Two…
… with a disastrous failed attempt at a direct flight from Dallas to Madrid. We all boarded the plane with no problems. I even made friends with the older Columbian gentleman sitting next to me. We talked about his grandkids, learning new languages and the benefits of technology and just as he abruptly took the conversation on a convert-me-to-his-religion turn the pilot’s voice came on the loudspeaker. “ Hi there folks, it appears there’s a slight problem with one of the wings of the aircraft. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to land back in Dallas and figure this out, maybe even switch planes. We should be back on the ground in about 15 minutes”. Then a flight attendant gave a very rough translation in Spanish that more or less sounded like “Excuse me, the pilot thinks the wings of the plane are going to fall off. We’re going to do our best to try to land the plane. Thank you”. I looked around for very alarmed Spanish speakers (I knew there were quite a few on board who didn’t speak English) but surprisingly no one looked the least bit concerned. Especially not my Baha’i neighbor who kept right on going with describing the pleasures of his faith. (From what I’ve read before, this religion has quite a few merits. However this man described it so vaguely that it could have been any religion known today. He was less than pleased when I pointed this out.)

Fast forward two hours- I have been going a little stir-crazy watching the flight-tracker line on the screen going in hundreds of little circles around the dfw area. Mr. Baha’i next to me is on his 3000th round of AngryBirds. We have had no new information from the pilots but are pretty sure that this has been the longest ‘15 minutes’ in the history of American Airline.
Finally the stewardess (excuse me, flight attendant) comes back on: ‘Ladies and Gentleman, I apologize for the lack of information, the cockpit has been a little hectic. Right now the pilot is going to come back into the cabin to check on something. Please be prepared to give up your seat for a few minutes’ (The translated version is as proportionally terrifying as the first time). Sure enough, the pilot indeed comes back into the cabin, borrows the seats of a couple across the aisle from me and honest-to-God (Baha’i or otherwise) pulls out a miniature flashlight, points it out the window at the starboard wing, nods while ‘hmmmm’ing and heads back to the cockpit. No information for another half hour.


Finally- a new announcement: ‘Sorry about that wait folks, I think we may have burned enough fuel now and we’re beginning our descent into Dallas/Ft. Worth, please buckle up and prepare yourselves for what may be a fairly bumpy landing. Oh, and don’t worry about the firetrucks. Thank you’…..

‘(in Spanish) Ladies and Gentleman. We’re going to be arriving in Dallas shortly. There are fireman and ambulances waiting in case of an explosion. Please fasten your seatbelts and place your seat in its upright position. Thank you.’
….
Still no apparent concern at all from anyone within my vision. So I buckle down, pull out my camera (in case of an explosion) and suffer through what turns out to be a very normal, uneventful landing.
Long story short, we all were transferred to a different plane that never showed up, finally instructed to go home and try again the next day despite the on-coming snowstorm. By this point all of my Spanish co-fliers have purchased what may have been the entirety of the beer available in the airport and lots of life-stories have been exchanged.


Spain attempt 2.1:
New flight, short layovers, no problems. I sit next to the only empty middle seat. They accidentally gave me a free glass of wine. I splurge on a first class ticket for the 5 hour bus from Madrid to Granada. I arrive only a day later than originally planned, dirty and tired. It finally occurs to me that I am in Spain.
I sleep for the next 17 hours.

My first day back is beautiful and sunny so I decide to go for a walk around the city. A few subtle changes catch me off-guard and one discovery of the closing of my favorite shoe store almost brings me to tears. Besides that I am thrilled to see the snow-covered mountains in the distance, hear the sloppy Granadino accent, and meet up for coffee with two of my favorite Granadinas. Around 2pm I go up to Huetor Vega to eat lunch at Angel’s parents’ house. They really are like my Spanish family and we pick right back up making fun of each-others’ accents. The food was delicious and like always Mila made me eat way too much of it.

That night I had been instructed to dress fancy and show up to Bea’s house around 9pm so that she could take me to my surprise welcome-back party. We ended up meeting up with my favorite group of Granadinas- in addition to Bea: Aurora, Alejandra, Isa and M. Isa (pronounced ‘Marisa’). 

We had a FANTASTIC 3 course dinner of something resembling quesadillas, steak, pumpkins, duck, and a variety of desserts. After we finished eating came the real surprise: a drag show! 

This drag queen was phenomenal: beautiful, a fun performer and hilarious. She performed 4 songs throughout 2 hours and spent the rest of the time doing stand-up comedy. I was a little nervous that she would say something to me that I wouldn’t understand but I actually kept up and even got in a funny of my own when she turned her attention my way. Around 2am the show finished and we all went next door for some drinks and dancing. A very very fun evening!


(Since starting this entry I have boarded my bus, which is running 20 minutes late. I am racing to the airport in Malaga to catch a plane to Belgium. Not sure if I will make it or not. I am currently seated next to a very stinky, uncovered-mouth-coughing elderly lady, Baha’i God bless her. Our bus just backed into another bus in the rush to leave. No one acknowledged this besides the driver of bus #2).

The rest of the weekend was a combination between lazy languid lounging and exciting excursions. On Saturday we drove down to the Granada coast to a pueblo called Almuñecar. Although swimsuit weather has yet to arrive, the sun was shining and conditions were perfect for a lunch at a chiringuito. (That’s a casual café/restaurant on the beach, most often with tables right on the sand). 

During the meal (which was a mouthwatering fresh vegetable paella) 4 hang gliders landed about 20 feet away. After lunch we walked along the coast and I made friends with a little girl who liked to pick up the ‘water tomatoes’ (stinging gooey bright red things that suction onto the underside of rocks) and a little boy who spoke to me in some Slavic language without even pausing for a breath.

Sunday brought more sun and a motorcycle ride through the countryside. (Pictured: These sheep are in front of the most famous peak of the Sierra Nevadas. You see that distinct shape everywhere.)I ate a very Spanish lunch consisting of a giant platter of Manchego cheese, grilled pork and patatas al pobre.


So now that I’ve just arrived and almost caught my breath I am off again for a 10 day stretch in Belgium and the Netherlands. I have no concrete plans whatsoever and a backpack containing:
• 5 shirts
• 4 sweaters
• 1 raincoat
• 15 pairs of socks and dainties (including one pair of long underwear)
• shower things and a toothbrush
• 1 Eurail pass


I don’t know about you, but this seems to me to be a flawless plan.

8 months pass...

Excuse the pause, I took a vacation from my adventuring to spend some time in Texas.