The Road Trip Part One

The next morning we peeled ourselves out of bed, frantically packed our bags and various GPS systems and hopped in the car to the Netherlands. Whenever the Netherlands were mentioned in my history lectures, I always wondered why a country at the top of Europe was called "Nether." I don't know if this is the correct reason for the appellation, but that is one flat country. It is the essence of lowlands. Besides the occasional windmill, there is nothing taller than me in that whole country. On the drive, Theresa and I listened to her old mixes, including one from her year in Santa Barbara. I had completely forgotten that old Sugarcult song that we all sang on repeat for a year. Ironically, that song is about not being someone's memory. Our GPS system didn't know the name of the street we were staying on in Amsterdam, so a combination of Google Directions, my sense of direction, and a stop at the gas station for map perusal, was how we got to our hostel. I should probably stop complaining about that place since it has been over a month since I was there, but this place was hos-hell. I now know what people mean by a Dutch staircase, and the cat there had a specific job to do. At least our 8-person room was occupied by only us for the entire week.

We went out to eat at a little place Theresa remembered from her first trip to Amsterdam. There we met a group of young people who worked across the street at Heineken. They had blonde curly hair and drank Heineken the whole night. We were in Holland now.

The next day we took the Free Walking Tour. I swear, I am the best advertisement for that company. I tell everyone to take the free walking tours. The Amsterdam one was great, with an appropriately kooky host. We saw the smallest house in Amsterdam, learned why the house lean forward and to the side, walked through a Beijinhof, saw a few coffeeshops and red lights, and ended with some Heinekens at a corner bar across from the Anne Frank House. At this point I felt a little tickle in my throat. I had no idea it would turn into the worst and longest lasting cold of my life. The next day we only had enough energy for a boat ride along the canals. We were both sick and cold, but it was warm inside the covered boats. Amsterdam is actually one of the most charming places I have ever been. The houses seemed alive and cheery, and no, I did not visit the coffeeshops. However, Theresa and I were walking home one night when we turned onto a most endearing street. It was dark and foggy, and the red and white bricks were glowing faintly in the light of the streetlamps. It immediately reminded me of Mary Poppins. I said this to Theresa and she started freaking out and saying, "Oh my God! I was thinking the same exact thing!" We were both so in love with this street that we walked down a few more times while we were in Amsterdam.

On our last day we both said we had to go to the Anne Frank House. I have no words to describe what it was like to go inside the Secret Annex and to read the heartbreaking quotes from her diary written on the walls. Just go. At some point in your life, just go. We both got copies of her diary to read that night. The next day, we left for Bruges.