Amsterdam

 Blog 06-15-22 Wednesday Amsterdam

Cities that make me feel like, “I’d be happy to move to this place some day”:

Hong Kong

Buenos Aires

Tel Aviv

London

Redondo Beach

Belfast

And now Amsterdam.

I came here with a positive bias thanks to watching a vlog called “Not Just Bikes”. (Check it out some day. Here is my favorite post. It says much about American life: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ra_0DgnJ1uQ) 

Alas NJB has also made me dissatisfied with my home city; I drive around lamenting what might be but can’t be. 

I knew it was a very livable place, but experiencing the place for even a few hours confirms my leanings. Thousands of places to eat and drink just within a few blocks of my hostel. Safe streets; pedestrians as King and Queen; a place designed for people.

If you wish to know where I am, just search in Google for “Sarphati Park” on Google. 

My first act last night after leaving my hostel was to buy a beer at a local pub. People exuded friendliness. The beer, Amstel, was good. The size — genius — half the size of the typical American glass, just right for me.

There are too many smokers here, I’d admit, not an oppressive number, just enough to be annoying.

Lots of Thai massage parlors. Is this the Dutch prostitution I’ve heard about?

One local “Italian dope” cafe. I’m unsure what is legal here.

My air journey was arduous:

San Francisco to Vancouver was easy. Even in a few hours at the airport I realized how much better Canada is as a country than the U.S. Things work. People seem genuinely cordial, not commercially so. Vancouver Airport was vast, but mostly deserted. 

Next was a nine hour trek to Frankfurt. I planned to sleep after finishing my Rex Parker novel. Everyone shut their blinds, the cabin was quiet and dark, perfect for sleeping……and then the temperature plummeted. The thin blanket provided by Condar Air was insufficient to keep out the cold. I shivered. I spent hours shifting the blanket hoping to find the one arrangement that would yield warmth. I never found it. My hips, my knees, my shoulders all developed soreness from my constant movement. I arrived at Frankfurt feeling miserable, with another connection ahead of me.

It took nearly an hour to navigate the Frankfurt Airport including two bag searches and one passport check. At times I thought to myself, “what if I misread the arrival/departure board?” Up stairs, then a long hallway seemingly to nowhere, then stairs down, customs, another stairway, twists and turns galore. When I got to gate A19 there were only a handful of folks there and no signage to indicate I was in the right place. I rechecked the board. One hour to boarding (though, on this trip none of my flights left on time). Gradually a few more travelers drifted in (but Lufthansa never did put up any signage suggesting we were going to Amsterdam). The little commuter jet that we eventually boarded was one-third full but at least I had no transfer to worry about. 

My traveler benightedness reappeared as soon as I landed at Schipol. I couldn’t get euro’s (the ONE money exchange place was out of money!) The electronics store that advertised SIM cards was closed. By chance a guy standing next to me at the — moneyless — exchange pointed me to a small booth that had SIM cards. (10MB for 35 euros.) He directed me to the nearby train station where I  was about to purchase the Dutch equivalent of a Clipper Card. 

That’s when I really showed my stuff. Google maps said to walk six minutes out of the airport to catch my city bus. It was only mid-afternoon. I had ample time to use public transit to Sharpati. I set out on my one-tenth of an hour journey. Oddly the more I walked the more empty the streets were. My bus passed me going the opposite way which ironically confirmed my determination to footslog forward. I’d surely find the next bus stop. Six minutes didn’t hack it. By the time I neared 20 minutes I had to admit I’d made a mistake. I reluctantly turned 180 degrees and retraced my steps. Google maps encouraged me to keep going in this direction. Then I came to a fork in the road. I chose the wrong fork, of course. I confronted people on the street. One guy assured me, “just go to the airport, there are plenty of buses there.” And, yes, I ended up right back where I started, in front of the airport, where my bus awaited. Eight stops then a short tram trip (Amsterdam is made for people!) and I was at Sharpati. 

The hostel is dark and well-used but the proprietors are solicitous and I got the bottom bunk. I slept (after a couple hours of wakefulness that I attributed to the time shift) for 14 hours, back on the streets at 3:30 in the afternoon.