September 25th-26th
[My trip to Amsterdam, or 16 total hours on the bus for 17 hours of the most spontaneous, stupid, ridiculous, bad experience that I've ever had in which nothing clicked but which I survived and discovered a new level of independence and self reliability].
Back when we were in the residencia in Granada discussing where we would all be going for our week long vacation, the majority of students had decided to go to Brussels for a few days and spend the remainder of the week in Amsterdam. It had sounded cool, but I knew that I wanted to go to Paris before visiting anywhere else. Although I had never made any set plans, I thought that if I could find cheap transportation and was able to work it into my schedule, I would travel from Paris to Amsterdam and meet up with the majority of the kids from my program. I had been having an amazing time in Paris but still thought it would be cool to go. Ryan, my friend from Granada who I'd been touring some of the sites in Paris, had found a round trip bus for less than 50 euros that would be leaving the morning of the 25th. Although I debated with myself whether or not I should go, in the end I committed to the trip and bought my ticket. I had a grand vision of repeating a Tomatina-esque trip in which I would meet up with my friends, party all night, tour the city in the morning and then come back on the bus the next afternoon. This didn't seem so farfetched as I had been out all night the night before in Paris and I figured that if it was that social in Paris it would be even more in Amsterdam.
Ryan and I woke up at 8:00 and took the metro to the bus station to catch our bus by 9:30. The reality of 8 hours set in when I realized that after sleeping for 4 or more I still had a large amount of time. We drove through France, stopped in Brussels, and passed through little towns in Holland. The country side looked beautiful. We pulled into Amstel Station in Amsterdam at 5:30pm.
I got off the bus and was greeted with the reality of not knowing the language, not having directions to my friends hostel, and not having a plan. The metro and information desk were attached to the bus station so Ryan and I went inside and gave a general description of where we were trying to go. Our friends' hostel was called the "Heart of Amsterdam" and was right in the center of the red light district. The information desk gave us a map and pointed to a part in the center called "the DAM." We took the metro 5 stops to Centraal Station and then chose a direction and started walking.
Amsterdam was an old city with a matrix of canals winding through the heart of the city. Designated bike paths were on all of the roads. The canals and bikes were the only things I really liked.
We passed a plaza with a large monument in the center. It was the oldest monument in Holland. We were trying to find the red light district but had gone too far past it. I asked for directions from three sketchy looking guys who looked like they would know where it was. They told us that it was farther back the way we had come.
We knew were heading in the right direction when we started seeing the many signs advertising something to do with sex or cannabis. Turning down a street, we saw their hostel that was right in the center of the red light district. Blake and Alan were sitting on the hand rail waiting for us.
They gave us a tour of their hostel which was pretty sketchy. There was a lobby, a short hallway that led to the bathrooms and showers. Their room was in the basement and they had 2 out of the 10 or so beds. As Alan made sure to point out as he gagged and plugged his nostrils, was the putrid stench that had permeated throughout the entire room. I guess the night before had brought a new roommate who smelled so foul that you wanted to throw up just entering the room. Adding to the sleaziness of the hostel was the "Sin City" theme. Everything was painted black and even though the sun was still out, it was pitch black inside the hostel.
We then went for a walk "around the neighborhood." Even in the day, I could see that the Red Light District lived up to its name. Every corner had a theater for live sex shows. There were open air bathrooms along the side walk. Walking a little further, I saw the infamous booths where prostitutes tried to lure people in.
We ate dinner at a good falafel place and then headed back to the hostel to try and meet up with the other groups. None of us had minutes on our cell phones as using them outside of Spain costs significantly more. We skyped the other group of students who told us to come over to their hostel. There was only the smelly man in the room while we were skyping and when Blake had finished using his computer, he put it in his locked backpack and shoved it under his bed.
The other group's hostel was a few blocks away. We weren't sure what room they were in so we climbed the flights of stairs trying to listen for their voices. Lucky enough, the door opened on the fifth floor and the group of girls came into the hall. They took us down stairs to where the other group was staying.
It was fun to see everyone but I could tell something was a little off as no one seemed excited to go out. They didn't seem to have been having that great of a time in Amsterdam. They also told me that everything closed around 1:00am and that I should probably find a hostel. Despite the pessimistic mood, I was still excited and we decided to go out to some bars.
The bars were fun, but nothing particularly special as it was more expensive and not as social as Granada. They had been right, as all of the bars began to close at 1:00am. While we were at one of the bars one of the girls realized that her wallet had been stolen and so she and a few of the other kids went to go look for it. Meanwhile, we discussed what we were going to do about our sleeping situation as I really did not want to pay for a hostel. I went to a few hostels but they kept raising the price (The 14 euros advertised was changed to 40 or more due to the last minute request). I refused to pay that price for one night in a crappy hostel and decided to try and keep looking for other options.
The girls decided to go back to their hostel and the rest of the group seemed to be getting tired. Blake, Alan, Ryan and I wanted to find a dance club but we couldn't find one. We decided to head back to their hostel. I asked about getting a room in their hostel but everything was supposedly full. Alan told the front desk about the stench in their room and came downstairs with a can of air freshener that he proceeded to unload completely all throughout the room. It helped mask the smell a little.
When we went downstairs, Blake discovered that his backpack, laptop, and iPod had all been stolen. The smelly guy was no longer there and neither was his stuff. Luckily Blake's passport had not been in the bag.
I asked Blake if I could share his bed as I couldn't find a hostel. I slept smashed against the wall in my jeans and sweater. Ryan slept underneath the bed on the floor hiding behind a suitcase. I fell asleep for a few hours but it was the worst night I've had as the smell was suffocating and I was extremely cramped.
The next morning we ate the free breakfast from the hostel and then went to meet up with the other group. I had to do something real and educational to counteract such a stupid experience and we planned on going to the Van Gogh museum. We met up with the girls and I helped Maggie file a police report for her stolen wallet.
The Van Gogh museum was really nice as it was three stories and had many of his most famous works, although "Starry Night" was on loan. The museum also had great descriptions of the historical context in both the general history and in Van Gogh's life for all of the paintings. I was surprised to learn that he didn't even start painting until he was 26, deciding to pursue art after his minister career fell through.
My bus back to Paris was at 3:00 and I made sure to leave by 2:00. We walked briskly back to the metro and I made it by 2:40.
The bus ride back took an extra 2 hours as there was a ton of traffic. We did get to spend about an hour in Brussels and I had some great hot chocolate. I sat next to a kid from Mexico City so I was able to practice my Spanish with another "Norteamericano." I made it back to Paris around 12:00 and caught the last metro back to Rochelle's apartment. I was so happy to be back in Paris.
So in the end, the trip was not worth it. I felt that Amsterdam was extremely overhyped. I didn't think the trip through at all and was able to see my foolishness. I overestimated my friends and the idea to try and do a trip like this without having a plan. I would have liked Amsterdam more had I planned to stay in a hostel booked in advanced, taken a train/plane, and gone with people who wanted to explore the city. Amsterdam is much less social than Granada or Paris. Granted there are good museums but they were pricey. Despite my overall disappointment, I was thankful that I didn't have anything really bad happen to me. I came back tired and smelly but nothing I couldn't recover from in a day. Although I didn't do it that well, I can cross Brussels and Amsterdam off my list of places to see.
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