Welcome to the Dam - Amsterdam

In order to best celebrate my birthday conveniently falling during the time of vacation, my best girlyfriends at Toulouse, all also English teachers, and I booked a weekend to Amsterdam, the land promising a good time.

The city of bikes and canals and biking canals, and canal-biking...you get it.

We four girls boarded the bus in Brussels shivering our backpacks off, hoping we might find a bit of sunshine going further...north.

Quelle surprise, we ended up snatching up any possible excuse to sit near a heater--an irish coffee, a pita crammed with hummus, eggplant, and veggies, a bag of those famous fries doused with spicy sauce, or samples of cheese with flavours ranging from red pesto and cumin to smoked goat.

Alright, so maybe the escapades were justified.











Arriving a bit weary but bright-eyed, our sympathetic CS host Ralph picked us up from the station before we went on a night saunter around the center.

Dam Square with the glowing National Monument

My favorite street

"OOOOohhh it's so CUUUuuute!!!" -Emma

Our genius couchsurfer led us to a range of bright Holland nightlife.
Let's just say grace à lui and his insider's knowledge, my birthday was truly 'electrifyin''.

Like the facepaint.

Ralph is absolutely a treasure, merci et à la prochaine!





Emma also had good luck with her friendly smiling CS host, with whom I also shared some giggles.
Standing next to him, I soon realised there was nothing in my genetics that shrieked 'Netherlands!'
I am, nonetheless proud of my little self and will continue to go into 'chihuahua mode' whenever I see fit.








Saturday morning, Anna, Sasha and I went on search of a flea market. We began with the metro, transferred to a boat, traversed to north Amsterdam, walked down a few lonely streets, and discovered a truly sweet tradition--free tea in vintage shops. There was no denying a steaming cup with a view of the world's best hipster trinkets. I lost count of moustaches and pink spotted decals and we continued on.
Unfortunately it was a bit of a goose chase, but the view across the river wasn't so shabby. We did find a vintage shop where I found some stylish pins and the snazziest leather cap seen since Christian Bale sang "The World Will Know".
Look closely beyond the bikes, at the contrast between the old Amsterdam and the new.

Amsterdam is choque full of museums and art, no doubt. My choice was clear--the Anne Frank Museum housed in the office where the family had hidden. Van Gogh can wait till next time.

Otto Frank's old office building

Just beyond down the canal

My prepubescent memories are rich with Anne Frank musings. I remember tearing up at the film at 12 years old and disappearing into the diary several times to come out a bit more kind to the general public.
Seeing her actual diaries was surreal and humbling. A glass case displaying many translations of her book ended the tour to show just how many lives little Anne has touched.

Centraal Station

Saturday included also some wandering around Dam Square, the Neoclassical Palace, and the Nieuwe Kerk (the gothic cathedral).
Proof that I did indeed take pictures during the day.

Royal Palace, with the appropriate classical accompaniment 

Emma and I took a relaxed stroll once again down the canals before submitting to weakness and ducking into the first heated building.

There's my HAT

Dinner was carefully sought out authentic Dutch cuisine joined by a friendly group of traveling frenchies due to an impromptu coffee shop chat. Sometimes you have to step off the CS wagon.

And YUM.

To be honest, reminded me a bit of hearty English grub.


Another option for eats, (although Ralph highly suggested against for digestive protocal), genius really, how much quicker (and more on a budget?) do snacks get?

I vote to nix taxis and go with these bad boys. Eco-friendly, no?

Ensuite some gawking around the red light district (culture for culture's sake). Reactions differed: Anna was disappointed, she had expected more, but for me it all seemed quite safe, not near as sleazy and back-alley as I had envisioned.

But just like this window display points out, 'this isn't Disneyland...'

Mozart balls & piggies... aka Vienna

To break up my holiday trip in Prague, I whipped through the snowy black hills of Czech Republic into Austria on a comfy bright yellow StudentExpress bus for a day in Vienna.

Arriving in the evening, I met up with my charming Couchsurfer Lorenzo and dropped off my bag before he took me on a nightwalk through the stately city center. This chilly stroll was without a doubt one of the grandest promenades I've ever taken. A few times Lorenzo walked off not realising he was leaving me frozen with my jaw dropped to the white marble pavement.
(disappointing disclaimer, wasn't able to replace my nicked camera til morning)

I am going to admit for the first time on the record, I hadn't heard of the prancing white horses of the Spanish riding school until Lorenzo ushered me into the hallway outside their stable and urged me to stare through the dark windows until I could roughly see a ficker of a white tail.
"Did you see? There!" Lorenzo whispered excitedly.
"Umm...yeah...I think so..."
I didn't want to admit I was then just humoring him, that in fact I wasn't one of the many dreamy-eyed horse stalkers who arrived in town to grab the closest seat in order to pull a justin-bieber-like-fan impression in the crowd.

To be fair, these horses wouldn't get out of the photos..

Being the psychic couchsurfing host he assured me he was, we scooched off to find warmth...in a jewel of an austrian pub... with a server wearing a little doll's dress.

"Vanilla sauce? I can't say no.."

No, but seriously, they still wear these Heidi in the hills get ups? I was well agog.

White wine and a cheese strudel with vanilla sauce later, I was ready to be fitted for my own costume, preferably made of curtains (okay i swear, I'll limit to only one Sound of Music reference).

In the am, as soon as I could get my boots on after filling a tummy with brioche, I was off again to make a daytime tour of the magnificent government buildings, roman and greek statues, and city halls.

The one must-see for me, especially after hearing all about the chocolate pistachio mozart balls sold in every side alley and horse cart in town, was Mozart's apartment next to St Stephan's Cathedral.
I adored wandering the creaky wooden floors of the three floors imagining the great composer agonizing over his next concerto or applauding himself for his latest minuet. Pity they didn't have his real piano, though.


My next feat was to find the ever-tantalising dish of schnitzel. I believe when a minimum of five people advise you to do something in a city, your will is handed over to the tourism lords and you obediently follow the conseil.

I soon snuggled into a red velvet booth in a schnitzel cafe, with a window view of one of the grand theaters of Vienna (as I began to question what wasn't in fact eminently grand about this city).

The schnitzel was, I'm quite sure, one of the best meals of my life. Complete with a sweet beer which you could easily convince me was squeezed from fresh lemons and scrumptious salty pretzel bread. Yum.

And back off again to marvel at the town.

"Every day we should hear at least one little song,
read one good poem,
see one exquisite picture,
and, if possible,
speak a few sensible words."
-Goethe

The Museums Quartier 

As this was my first visit to a German speaking city, every street sign or menu I saw seemed to me to be some kind of terrifying ancient curse. I think if my mother had been German, I would have been very disciplined. The ultimate was a warning sign, whatever it said, I wasn't going near that area.






Although I did grin at the occasional street sign which seemed to be named after a character from Lord of the Rings.









Next time I plan to go to the opera, of course. After a big plate of schnitzel.

 To the left and below, the renowned opera house in the background. Sorry for focusing instead on Mozart and pretty colors...

Then there were cute little loveable fuzzy pink pigs absolutely everywhere. This took me probably a whole ten seconds to work through. Pigs...why...pigs? Ah. In a mildly Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. fashion, so it goes.