What Happens in Amsterdam…

Won’t really get mentioned here. Buuuuut…

You hitched your way from Lokeren to Amsterdam seamlessly. Only took four rides, the last of which was an Italian guy in a SmartCar, headed to the A’dam airport. You thought the Porsche that picked you up in Antwerp was small. Oh no, this SmartCar was a joke. But the guy was cool. Verrry verrry Italian. Like, hand gestures and all.

You got dropped one exit before the airport, very very south in the city, and walked over 3 hours with your 25k pack. No big deal. It was an endurance event. Almost as hard as making a phone call to Janneke, who finally got to meet you after you’d spent an additional hour sitting on the wrong side of her building, eagerly awaiting her return home.

Janneke is the fucking shit. That’s really all you have to say. Tall, beautiful, and lean, overflowing with energy and charisma. You are pleased to say the two of you got along swimmingly–through four bottles of wine, some sharing, and some (on your unfortunate part) dancing. Holy hangover. She went to work, and you didn’t get out of bed until noon, after a moment of panic and disorientation–“Dear god, whose bed is this!?” You accomplished little beyond a run around the enormous park/lake near her apartment, where you stumbled across not one, but three empty packets of heroine. Creepy. But what the hell, you were in Amsterdam. What did you expect?

Janneke and her Gay Polish Queen roommate, Bronek (sweetest man on the planet), returned home. You had a couple glasses of wine, got ready, and hit the city center for your first official night in Amsterdam. Janneke had a few work-related tasks to iron out, but after she did, she took you on a whirlwind tour of the Red Light District before landing the three of you in a pub where she used to work. At the pub, all you will say is that you encountered some very good fortune. And then some more after meeting one of her long lost friends. Free drinks, smoke, and smiles. When it started to get late (around 3?), the three of you piled into a somewhat illegal taxi and returned to the apartment for a celebratory bottle of champagne, long conversation, and then–unbelievably–more good fortune! The night ended at, umm…8 or 9am??? depending on how you want to look at it. You can’t say you got any sleep. Not really, because the alarm sounded soon thereafter, and you had a frenzied, hungover, heavy-headed endeavor of getting yourselves together so that Janneke could make it to her appointment out in the Dutch countryside. Nice drive, if only your head weren’t in bits. Beautiful flat farmland, fields of tulips (that secret is still safe!), windmills, and later a visit to her father’s precious B&B.

Now the big question: where to next? You seem to have exhausted your network of known couches. You are currently looking for people in Berlin, but so far, no hits.

Categories: Awesome Luck, Parties, The Netherlands | 1 Comment

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One thought on “What Happens in Amsterdam…

  1. Pingback: Chasing Highs & Crashing Come-downs | Life Of Travel - A Memoir

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