Beyond the Coffee Shops

Eurostar from London, Waterloo Station

We expected the chunnel to be a bit different than it actually was.  We kept looking and waiting to see the English Channel and this great tunnel heading down under the earth and water, but in reality it was more like... English country side, cows, graffitti, and then into a tunnel that felt no different than any other tunnel on our train ride, except that it lasted 20 minutes instead of two and a woman announced over the loud speaker that we were under the channel.

Then we stopped in Brussels, Belgium, home to: Nato, great waffles and the E.U.  The station was dirty and pick pockets were everywhere stalking naive tourists.  Luckily we were together to watch out for one another.  With a 45 minute wait until our train to Amsterdam, we decided to get a quick bite.  We escaped the station with our money enclosed securley in our passport cases. The only harasment we endured was the ridiculing laughter of two teenage boys who chuckled furiously at our American appearance.

Noordjwick

A train and bus ride later, we arrived in Noordwjick, a coastal town on the North Sea that we would call home for the next three nights. The town is quite and quaint with friendly residents who bustle around their town mounted on thier bicycles. In Noordjwick and Amsterdam alike; bikes rule the roost, with thier own rodes and special traffic lights. We were pleased we would avoid the vices and chaos that is characteristic of Amsterdam... or so we thought.

The Flying Pig Beach Hostel

"Are we in the right place?"

"It says beach hostel."

"But is this the right door?"

Looking up we saw a handful of young hostellers peering out of a large bay window.  They were dressed in Togas with their heads adorned in crowns of tree branches and leaves.  We cautiously walked up the stairs, unsure if this was exactly where we were supposed to go to check in.  As we opened the door into the bar/reception area we were met by many young drunk faces and plumes of smoke.

We made our way toward the bar as the crowed jeered, "where`s your togas?"

We hesitantly asked, "Is this where we check in?" to the barkeeper who was puffing a cigarette and holding a beer all while wrapped in a bedsheet.

"Sure is."

And we knew that this was going to be one crazy hostel.

Day trip to Amsterdam

On Sunday, after a night of flowing Drammelsch pints and loud techno at the local Discotec, we boarded the bus and the train for an hour ride into Amsterdam. The city is built around a busy web of shallow canals. While the canals, intricate bridges and handcrafted boats contribute to the city`s charm, the waterways do make navigation a bit difficult. At least one of us could read the map.

After successfully getting lost, we finally made our way to Anne Frank`s house, a sobering but educational experience. Per Otto Frank`s request the house remained unfurnished, but it was full of information and testimonials that intimately connects visitors to the Frank family. Interesting fact...Anne`s diary is published in over 60 languages.

It`s a small world. In line we met two students from Capitol University in Columbus, Ohio.

Then off to the Van Gogh museum, five stories that pay homage to the life and work of a troubled artist skilled in the techniques of pointillism and color. Interesting fact: Van Gogh was only an artist for the last 10 years of his life. He committed suicide at 37 by shooting himself in the chest. Despite popular belief, Van Gogh was not a recluse, in fact he was highly regarded by his friends in Paris`s burgeoning art community.

More anecdotes and pictures from our Amsterdam adventure to come. The keyboard here is different, the camera won`t connect, and it has taken us an hour to type this much. Meanwhile, the city of Paris awaits. We send our love....