THIS IS AMSTERDAM

(Like yesterday, this guest-post comes to you from Zandria.)

You know what? Everything you’ve heard about Amsterdam is true. It’s a gorgeous city that literally screams “character.” There is a palpable sense of a quick-paced, modern place, while at the same time retaining many of the same aspects from hundreds of ago.

Part of Amsterdam’s character are the things it’s known for world-wide. I can’t remember one visit to the city where I didn’t smell marijuana smoke – there are simply too many coffeeshops clustered tightly together in the maze of narrow streets. If you are easily offended, then you might want to reconsider visiting. At the very least: don’t walk through the Red Light district, don’t dwell on the number of junkies wheeling stolen bikes, and take care to avert your virgin-eyes from the signs advertising Sex Museums and psychedelic mushrooms.

Instead, go to some of the tourist sites. I went to the Anne Frank House. The Historical Museum. The Rijksmuseum. There are tons of places I didn’t visit, that others come from all over the globe to see. But those are just physical places – you pay your fee, look around, and later you can point it out in a guide book: “See, I went here, and here, and boy were the lines at this place a drag.”

The things I’ll remember most are the experiences: My poor, flimsy excuse for an umbrella getting battered and abused by the terrific gusts of wind. Mostly, the walking. I never got tired of looking at things – the tremendous variety of people, cultures, and ethnic representations – that truly stamp the word “multicultural” on a popular tourist destination.

I love how there are tons of people who don’t have to own cars. They go on foot, they ride their bikes, they take the tram – and for longer trips, the trains leave every few minutes from Central Station. I love how the average height for Dutch people is higher than anywhere else in the world, and although some are pudgier than others, I can’t recall seeing hardly any obese people. Biking is such a normal part of their lives that they don’t bother letting it dictate their wardrobe choices. I was just as likely to see someone riding comfortably in jeans and sneakers, as I was to see a lady in a short skirt and pointed boots (although the lady was more likely to bring her knees in at an inward-angle while pumping the pedals up-and-down).

I don’t know for sure if I’ll ever be back. I would like to say that I will, but it’s a little too far from Virginia to say for sure. It’s nice to know that if I do return – even if I still don’t know more than five or so Dutch words – that I’ll be able to find my way around. I could point out my favorite spots to walk, away from the most popular streets where every step involves dancing and weaving around a mass of bodies. I could ride the tram with ease, secure in my use of the Strippenkaart. I could even show my brother, Ben, how to find “Coffeeshop Ben.”

I’ll miss you, Amsterdam. Thanks for the memories. Thanks for knocking me out of my comfort zone and showing me that I’ll be okay, no matter what.