Right off the bat, let me neither confirm nor deny whether or not I partook in certain substances while in Amsterdam. Take the song title used for this post and assume what you will.
I will say this: it was quite the experience to walk back a really nice looking storefront to window shop the mushrooms that the business had so elegantly on display, with a beautiful script describing the psychedelic experience you might expect should you consume their wares. I will also go ahead and confirm that I in fact did not give that particular store any business.
That being said, it was amazing being for a week in a culture that has such a refreshing perspective on things. It’s not that the folks in the Netherlands are all stoners that are also on a shroom trip while patronizing prostitutes, it’s just that they feel like people should be able to safely make their own decisions without the actual crime that surrounds those vices. It’s not the marijuana that’s the problem, it’s the black market dealers and the tangential issues that come with that such as violent crime. Paying for sex isn’t a bad thing, it’s the pimps who prey on sex workers and the awful things that can lead to like human trafficking.
If it’s all legal and people are counted on to be responsible with their own actions, then those negative things have no oxygen.
It makes so much sense that it hurts my brain to think about all the horrific consequences of America’s War on Drugs, none of which is an eradication of drug use.
Woah, okay, I might be high right now but it’s not weed. It’s the soapbox I unintentionally started climbing there. Apologies. (But not really. Because it’s all true.)
Another preface to my thoughts about Amsterdam: I didn’t take very many photos. It wasn’t an intentional thing, but rather it just kind of happened. And I’m not upset about it. There’s something to be said about just experiencing something and documenting it only with the camera that amazingly exists under your skull.
Speaking of skulls, the Van Gogh Museum was definitely a highlight of my week in Amsterdam, and I have a pin of a skull smoking a cigarette on my bag now in homage to his famous painting.
Have I mentioned yet my obsession with pins? It didn’t start until Italy when almost every souvenir shop I walked to in Rome had them and it reminded me that my mother had collected them during her travels of Europe. If I only had known how frustrating this would end up being for me…
First off, I’m a little OCD and so if I don’t have one from all the countries I visit, it’s going to annoy the hell out of me. Secondly, I’m not matchy-matchy, so they can’t all be boring flags. Except I now have four boring flags to go along with my not flag of Italy.
It is also incredibly hard to find pins! Much more difficult than I would have expected, leading to numerous sighs as I walk through way more gift shops than I ever intended. But I think it’ll be cool in the end when the front of my bag is decked out in these little mementos, so it’s worth it.
Another place I visited in Amsterdam was the hiding place of Anne Frank, her family, and others. It’s not the most elaborate place I’ve visited — Mr. Frank didn’t want to put the furniture and whatnot back in — but it was one of the more… I don’t even know the right word. Chilling? But also inspiring? And heartbreaking?
They put up such an incredible fight. They were so brave, and they so very nearly made it, only being found with ultimately such a short time left in the war.
To experience the tight quarters in which they holed themselves up, it was just one of those amazing hair-standing-on-end moments that I will never, ever forget.
Something one of my close friends has talked about during this adventure is how he’d like to experience a concert of an American band in a different country, and I did that also while in Amsterdam, going to see Old Crow Medicine Show at the Paradiso. Coincidentally, that same friend had seen them on New Year’s Eve at the Ryman in Nashville. This show was also at an old church, an absolutely beautiful venue.
It wasn’t quite the same effect as my friend was alluding to because his main point was wanting to hear folks who speak a different language singing along to songs in English, but English is incredibly widely spoken in the Netherlands. That didn’t change it though from being an incredible experience to see how music resonates across so many different lines, man-made and otherwise.
I didn’t intend on staying in Amsterdam as long as I did, but I couldn’t find a place to stay in Belgium until later, and so I tacked on a couple extra days that were peaceful if also wet and cold… and sometimes snowy. The place I stayed in was quite unique: a houseboat on the Amstel River. Highly recommended experience. It was an unbelievable view to wake up at water level every morning.
This leg of the trip is coming quickly to a close as I’ll be flying back to Florida a week from tomorrow (the 23rd). If I’m being honest, I’m ready for a break. It’s weird to describe because it’s not a negative feeling. I have really enjoyed myself, and I’m very much looking forward to coming back via the transatlantic cruise I’m taking at the end of April.
But I’m also ready to just be in one place again for a bit, with time to reflect without feeling like I’m being wasteful with my resources (thankfully Momma and Pops don’t charge rent… yet). Here I’ve felt a pressure — especially after the slow pace of the first month or so — to experience as much as I can. It’s true that my outlook on the trip changed when I did that, but I do think I have found some places now where I could enjoy that more slow-pace style that I was going for earlier.
Anyways, I’m rambling as I’m wont to do.
I can’t wait to tell you about my day in Brussels.
And I definitely can’t wait to tell you what I’ve decided to do as one of my last things for now. It’s a bit… surprising… for me.
I think.
Rails to Ride 