Adventures in Amsterdam
Day 3 (Monday, April 6th): Skip to Schipol
I had such grand plans for Monday morning. Sure, I was leaving Amsterdam in the afternoon, but I could surely visit the Rembrandt Museum, right? Had to make the most of my time, after all!
Except traveling is tiring; I always forget that. And the weird interaction last night had me just not excited anymore. It was really sad. I love Amsterdam. But now I was reminded again how other people enjoy Amsterdam, and even though it's ridiculous, it just makes me sad and angry. Sure, go sow your wild oats. Whatever. Be young. But Amsterdam is so much more than the Red Light District. For once, I wish everyone liked to do what I do, just because it seems such a waste to spend all your time in this wonderful city just to basically not remember any of it.
Sorry. Rant over. I'm not trying to be holier-than-thou or act as anyone's worst nightmare of a nagging mother. Even my mother was surprisingly cool, even after I told her and Dad the fight between Underwear Guy and Italian Red Eye. But you should know by now I care waaaay too much and am incapable of letting go.
It would be much easier for me to let it go if I looked this fierce while doing it.
Eh, this probably suits me more.
ANYWAY. Jeez. I am so distracted.
It was raining and, in a sudden twist of events (ha!), I had woken up much later than intended. So hi-ho, it's off to the airport I go.
I'm sorry. This is what addicts do.
It's a bit hard to read the words, but those are some of the provinces of the Netherlands.
BONUS: Is it the Netherlands or Holland? Well, don't be like the Vice-President in My Fellow Americans. The President tells his Chief of Staff to remind his No. 2 that "these people are from the Netherlands, not the nether regions." Hahahahahaha.
Getting back on track. If you are desperate to know, click here! (CGP Grey is my hero.)
You'll have to suffer through the following extremely random pictures. It turns out there's not much to document in an airport. Though Schipol may be the exception.
I'll feel bad if this isn't just a random Internet photo. Jamie wanted me to recreate this photo. I was unable to. :( I tried to appease her with this:
This was part of the various murals in the hostel. It was one of the only images that didn't have a marijuana leaf accompanying it. :/
Speaking of Jamie, the poor girl has to suffer through my inappropriate commentary about my life. I'm sorry, Jamie. But you're such a good sport about it!
I have a dirtier mind now that I've been reading Ulysses and Shakespeare. It turns out that 60% of great literature involves lots of crude jokes.
By the way, if any of you are offended by my potty mouth and wish to douse my mouth in Life Boy, I give you this conversation:
My Mother: Did you read Katie's most recent blog post?
My Grandmother: Yes.
My Mother: Do you want her to make a PG version?
My Grandmother: Do you think I was born yesterday?
My family is really great. :D
So if I have my grandmother's blessing, well, you'll have to take it up with her. I'm sure she'll fight you on it. :) No one likes neutering.
Oh, and making a smooth transition like I always do, here is the Hostel Cat! His name is Herman. He was the bright spot of the place. He was an absolute sweetheart. And nobody was paying any attention to him! :O
How could anyone ignore that face??? He should be at the KattenKabinet. He'd get all the attention he deserves there.
Corny joke of the day that I stole my aunt's Facebook page.
I noticed the ING lion was omnipresent in Amsterdam. Which is strange because I thought it wasn't a company anymore--I mean, the ING company in Hartford suddenly disappeared. But I guess they're still going strong in Amsterdam.
Now, I've already mentioned how weirdly awesome Schipol Airport is. It seems most people already knew this (even my cousin remembers the airport--and she was in elementary school when she went), but for those who are still not convinced, here are some pictures that should turn you:
Now, I could've spent all day playing with these things that are admittedly for children, but I was so tired. It's hard to sleep in a hostel full of snoring people. Anyway, I needed to find somewhere to sleep. But sleeping all tucked up like a turtle is not comfortable. Fortunately, when I wandered back into the Schipol Greenery, there were a series of beanbags and lounge chairs for the jet-lagged to use. So that was wonderful. We need those in more places! We need places with beds! It's so inconvenient to have to go to your apartment just to nap. But it turns out falling asleep in public is either frowned upon or not good for your safety.
Fast forward to touchdown in Paris.
It's always nicer in Nice! (heh heh)
Oddities are not just restricted to Amsterdam airports. This was at Charles de Gaulle. And it's hard to see, but yeah, that pen is not just random. It's for sheep. There were sheep. And they weren't fake because I saw one move. I was so confused.
Another delightful floor animation that amuses tired airport people and cats alike.
Now, I've always cabbed it to de Gaulle because I am pathetically lazy, but this time I was like, No. I'm a mature woman. I can take the Metro--er, the RER. (The phrase "big girl" is just too trite and creepy.)
Well, the Metro was...interesting. The seats are too close together to comfortably put your bag between your legs to keep from rolling around, so I had to kind of hold it to the side. Which was fine. But then as we got further along the RER B line, more people were getting on, and it got more and more crowded.
This one woman came over to me and started speaking in rapid French. Now, a tired brain does not translate well, so I was just like, "What?" in English since I couldn't even summon the knowledge to say, "Quoi?" And she just grabs my suitcase and tries to drag it.
She was definitely not trying to steal it; she was trying to move it out of the way so she could sit. But yeah, it's not a good idea to grab someone's stuff. How come no one seems to realize this? Don't grab people's bags, their shoulders, their hair--yeah, don't grab anything. (Sadly, those are real-life examples.)
I jerked my bag away from her and she gave me the dirtiest look. Okay, lady, fine. I'll move my bag. But I hate when this happens: I didn't have a problem with moving, I just didn't want someone to grab my stuff without permission! So she shoves herself into the seats, I roll my bag in front of me, and then the guy across from me and I had to basically sit cross-legged so our bags could stay put.
We bonded by rolling our eyes and nodding our heads at the woman. It can really do wonders. Haha.
Anyway, this sign in the Metro station I transferred to warns you about creepers. Now why doesn't anyone listen to these things? I'm talking to you, Rude RER Woman.
Yeah, I know, I can't believe I missed a Harry Potter Exposition either. I fail as a nerd.
Whoa whoa, I guess I can forgive missing HP, but I definitely can't miss CATS!
Anyway, this post is scattered because that day was scattered. I got back to the apartment and just kind of collapsed on my bed--you know, after unpacking my suitcase. I was taught well.
(P.S. In case you're wondering, yes, it is bothering me very much that these posts are not in order anymore. :( Wah.)
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