It's easy to get lost here, but it's just as easy to get found.
That was the first thing I wrote in my journal, sitting alone in a restaurant, on my first night in Amsterdam.
So, did it turn out to be more than just my observations of the city plan, did it turn out to be a metaphor for my trip, did it turn out to be a metaphor for my life?
More than anything in the world I needed this trip. I needed Amsterdam.
Quite honestly I was a completely different person here and I hope upon hope that I can take...
I'm sitting in the airport and feel completely fucked. I guess that's a good thing.
Last night I went to the Amsterdam bar crawl again. Why the fuck not?
There were more people, which meant less vodka so I compensated with jager shots and glasses of wine. Some guys from Cincinnati made fun of me for drinking wine.
Jodie and I pole danced a lot. She rocks my socks. Katy from their hostel came out and so did British James who disappeared at one point. He didn't like where he was from. I'm beginning to think that no one likes where they come...
Despite the fact that I'd just gotten home from a bar crawl a few hours before I decided that while I was in Amsterdam I still wanted to make it to Keukenhof, a flower garden a few towns over in Lisse...
True Story: I have had more Heinekens than I've had Cokes this week (that says A LOT coming from me).
Another True Story: If I wanted to start a different type of coke habit there are a couple of guys outside my hostel that would be more than willing to help.
Today was a busy busy day. I started by going to the Noodermarkt. They like their markets here in Amsterdam. There are tons of them. I saw a man selling birds. I bought an orange juice. That's another thing they have here: fresh juice. It's everywhere and I love it.
"Find a man who thinks your silence is beautiful."
The old Dutchman at the bar said that to me. I wasn't talking much and to be truthful it was because I could hardly understand what he was saying and to be more truthful it was because in general I just don't talk much.
It's been something I've been thinking about these last few days. Whenever I talk I have to clear my throat and start again because each sentence has come after a long period of silence. The Canadian, Paul, that I met at my hostel, kept saying today that I don't...