Adventure in Amsterdam - 07.10.2010

Here is the thing about adventures - they always involve risk and danger. Adventures aren't planned out. You don't make reservations for adventures. Leave a deposit or sign a contract. Adventures just happen and they're always subject to the elements. There's always a dragon to slay, a code to crack, a wizard to trick. Even if you have a map marked with an 'X' and the promise of treasure at the end. Yesterday, my first adventure in Amsterdam on my own, included all those things. Metaphorically speaking.

I packed a bag with the necessary tools and "weapons" for my quest (camera, notebooks, travel guide, wallet, maps). I strapped on my armor (a new dress and favorite thrifted belt).



Then, I set off on my pacing steed. My host father told me to just follow the bike path and ran his finger along the map to show me how to get to the station. But sometimes following directions doesn't always work out. I am usually a very good navigator. My internal compass is excellent. But I got lost. I mean, I wasn't lost in the sense that I had no idea where I was. I knew my location on the map. But lost as in I couldn't find the right place to turn. I don't know how many times I thought "oh, it must be this direction" or had to turn around but I finally got to the right side of the canal and to the station. I figured out the ticket kiosk and paid my fare in coins because it didn't read my debit card. I instictively guessed which side of the tracks I should be on and waited for the trip to really begin.

The other thing about adventures is that even if you're a lonely traveler you always meet people along the way. The first such encounter for me was at the station. A woman joined me on the platform and asked (first in Dutch then English) if this was the side for service to Amsterdam. I said I wasn't sure but I thought so. We boarded the train and it was the right one. Until it reached the end of the line and the only two people left, me and a woman in purple, were told to get off. The woman in purple seemed just as confused as me and she approached the attendant. I assumed she was trying to get to Amsterdam Centraal as well, so I followed her when she changed over to another platform and another train.

Finally, I made it to the city. I was thirsty, sticky with sweat from the heat on the stuffy train cars, and my legs were already sore from bicycling. Before I left the house I hadn't done much preparation. I had a few places in mind, a vintage store and a book exchange, but knew that in the few hours I had it was probably just best to explore. So, I set off in the general direction of the Nine Streets. When I reached the Homomonument and saw a sign pointing towards Anne Frank's house I paused for a drink on a bench outside Westermarkt.


Homomonument.

Westermarkt.

I consulted my maps then set off for the vintage store, Lady Day. I got there as it was preparing to close so I was not able to thoroughly inspect the racks, but I spent 15€ on a skirt and blouse. I marked it on my map with an 'X' to return next time. Here be treasure. Floral prints, tarnished buttons, musty air, and old leather pocketbooks.



I wandered some more then pushed my way into a busy Albert Heijn (supermarket chain) because I was thirsty again. When traveling it is always cheaper to buy food at a grocery store than a cafe or restauraunt. I've made it a rule for myself to only eat once a day at a sit down place and picnic in a park or on a bench for other meals. For my afternoon snack I enjoyed some peanut butter on the steps of the Magna Plaza shopping center. This is when I encountered another adventurer - a Swedish girl with decaying red lipstick and a belted dress similar to mine. She asked me for directions. Once again the guide book map was consulted (it proved unhelpful for this particular situation) and again we fellow adventurers went off on our ways.

Pardon me for shaming the wonderful array of cuisine and delicious dining in Amsterdam, but I had dinner at McDonald's. I was worried about getting back to Purmerend at a decent time so I wouldn't have to bike back to Middelie in the dark. There were no other establishments in my direct vicinity at the time promising fast food. So, I gave in and didn't even bother finishing my fries.


Singel Canal, part of Nine Streets.

I made sure to utilize the helpful information desk at the station to see which trains and transfers I needed to get back. (7a to Zaandam then switch to 1 toward Hoorn.) Therefore, I made it in less than half the time it took me to get there. On my bike this time I knew exactly where I was going. The embarrassing but quick dinner at McDonald's turned out to be a good idea because I made it to the house just before it started storming.

The jar of peanut butter is still mostly full and sitting on my nightstand. Despite a hotter-than-normal shower my leg muscles still feel like stone. My iPod battery is low. The stretch of skin between my shoulder blades is tender with sunburn. There are blisters on only one foot. I got lost. I wandered. I was always thirsty. But Amsterdam was definitely a worthy adventure.

An Adventure in Edam

At last, I have something to write about that doesn't involve the children or my secret homesickness. Yesterday, I went into Edam to explore on my own. My bike route turns through a corner of the town's residential outskirts but I really had no idea how to get to the city center by bike. The map in my Netherlands book and the ones I found on the internet were not helpful. I figured the only way I could get there was if I just swallowed my pride and accepted the task of looking like a lost tourist for the afternoon. So, I rode to the corner at the end of the bike path and just kept going instead of turning around.



I followed the signs for Noord-Edam and just continued in that general direction. I crossed a busy round about, concentrating on not hitting a patch of gravel or being hit by a car. Then the pavement changed to uneven, stone streets. I passed a group of people around my age speaking English to each other with British accents. At least I knew I wouldn't be the only one not speaking Dutch. Then I found myself in the square my host family showed me when they took me by car. At the time the square had been filled with people dressed in orange for the World Cup and dancing to a live band, not empty in the Saturday sun. I really only recognized it because there is a gelato shop on one end which I noticed last time. (I always mentally mark the location of any gelato shop I come across.) From there I made it to the main street and parked my bike by a souvenir shop.



The first thing I did was buy postcards and stamps. I stepped in and out of various shops, not really intent on anything but looking casually. Just that little bit of freedom was pleasant. Refreshing, I guess you could even say, after about three weeks of routines and unfamiliarity. To be entirely honest though, it was a bit dull to be by myself. I think visiting a town like Edam by oneself can be dull because it is so small and quaint - the type of place where you have to turn to your companion and comment on the sweets shop or the tilted angle of the old buildings along the canal. In a city, like Florence for example, it isn't so noticeable that you're alone. There's so many people that even you don't notice. I still can't really explain the difference or why I felt the heaviness of solitude in such a way. Me, so independent, feel that way? Yes. Further proof of how much things have changed in my life and how I've even changed these past few months.



The humidity had me very sticky and uncomfortable so I went into a bakery for some ice cream. There was a British couple ahead of me at the counter making their order awkwardly and paying awkwardly. With two scoops (cookie and panna cotta) on a cone, I perched myself at one of the tiny tables under the awning outside. A middle aged woman made some comment to me in Dutch. I did not have the slightest idea what she said but I was almost certain it was a question so I smiled, nodded, and replied "ya" with gentle enthusiasm. I assume she had simply remarked about the day. "Nice weather we are having, isn't it?" Or about my melting treat. "Well, doesn't that look delicious?"



However, the sunny weather broke not long after. Rain had been predicted so I finished my ice cream, crunched on the cone on my way to the information stall about the cheese market, for which Edam is most known. There I encountered another British couple who were asking about how and where they should park their care. I was reminded of my bike and the impending storm so I tasted the sample cheese quickly then set off back to Middelie.



The clouds, which had come in suddenly at first, slowed as soon as I was almost back to the house. Exhilarated from my first little, lonely adventure I decided to go for an extra loop on the bike path. The wind really picked up and when I pulled into the driveway I was exhausted from having to pedal against it on all the longest stretches. The rain started just as I got my keys for the front door out of my bag. The house was empty and grey, my host family gone on some errand, so the rain echoed loudly through the open windows.

I took a brief shower and laid atop my barely made bed, still buzzing from pedaling so fast and slightly sick from the earlier anxiety about getting lost, being alone, and eating ice cream in the heat. I need to prepare myself for Amsterdam if a trip just over the way to Edam was so exhausting.

My pacing steed

There are no grand adventures for me to report just yet. So far, only quiet ones set in the countryside. I've taken up a truly Dutch habit - bike riding.



I have gone on a thirty minute route, which circuits the pastures surrounding the village and turns me back again in a corner of Edam, about every other day for a week now. The path takes me through quaint scenery and clouds of gnats. My favorite stretch is when the setting sun is first to my right then, as I take a curve, falls to my back. First my shadow speeds along on the pasture below, moving alongside me like we're racing, then shifts in front so it seems I am chasing myself. I also like wearing my light, black sweater and leaving the buttons undone so when I go fast enough it explodes behind me in the wind like ferocious black wings.



The weather has been pleasant. Warm and sunny. It truly feels like summer and I only realize how much sun I've been getting when I look at the skin on top of my feet, my wrists, or the freckles stretching across the bridge of my nose and cheeks.

After having such a busy life during May and June because of school, graduation, and preparation for Holland it is nice to finally nestle myself into days that pass slowly and steadily. Even if the children are badly behaved one moment than painfully adorable the next.

Not only am I finally starting to settle (if ever a soul like mine can consider itself settled) but I am at last finding things that I like here. Right now, they're mostly small moments or scenes. Like seeing the reflection of the red sun in the bathroom mirror when I brush my teeth before bed (the sun sets after 10pm here). Or watching American television shows with Dutch subtitles.

I have a nice, quiet little life here. Maybe this is also part of what it means to be Dutch.