On Thursday night we went to a Thai Restaurant in London to celebrate Stivo's birthday. The green curry was soooo good. Then we hopped on a huge ferry and headed for Holland. I can definitely say the green curry didn't seem as quite good once we got about 5 hours into the boat ride.
Our cabin on the boat
We continued Stivo's birthday celebration on board. We ran into some guys having a Stag-do party, which they told us, is the English term for bachelor party. Hen-do is their version of a bachelorette party.
Everyone had a pretty good time. One guy with the group was a boxer from Liverpool. He was pretty far gone. I think he spilled my drink at least twice. When I got up to get a wash rag to clean off the table I joked to the bartender that we had a drunk Englishman on our hands. He said, "That's the worst kind."
In the morning I snuck out for breakfast before we docked and found the boxer still in the cafeteria, still very, very drunk. He started to pick a flight with some 15 year old kids from Holland and then was finally taken out of the room by security.
When we got off the ferry we found him in handcuffs and all his friends waiting to get him out. A security guard on the boat told me he was going right back to England..
Boingy
Stivo woke up on the ferry exclaiming that her "boingy" really hurt, which is Stivo's word for uvula. Her glands weren't swollen, but that thing in the back of her throat was pretty big. The pain I think got a little better by the end of the night but I think we might have to go in search of Benadryl or something (we think it's allergy related since she was sneezing all through London).
She also wanted me to see if there were any doctors/nurses reading the blog who might know why her boingy is swollen. So there you go.
Holland
Rotterdam
We took a train to Rotterdam to meet Stivo's friend, but as it turns out she wasn't able to meet us until the evening. We left the train station and wandered into what looked like the only open breakfast place. When we walked in we were greeted with the store owner telling us our feet were too dirty to come in. I think we all three had a "Dorothy, you're not in Kansas anymore" moment.
In Rotterdam
Then we went back to the train station where we hopelessly searced for an internet cafe with no luck. They charge for restroom useage which wasn't too promising either. We did stop in a burger king and get a huge bacon cheese burger (again, no breakfast food) since Stivo and Jess hadn't eaten.
We got a lot of stares and strange looks before we decided we should probably just go to Amsterdam. I felt like people were angry at me for messing up their uberclean streets. I could see it in their faces as they zoomed past on their bikes (more on this later).
Amsterdam
We found a hostel in Amsterdam that had availability and was reasonably priced. When I was looking at our Rick Steve's travel book after we checked in, I noticed that our hotel was actually in the Red Light district, just a mere minute from the Erotica Museum.
We were exhausted after very little sleep on the ferry ride and being stared at all morning in Rotterdam, so we definitely passed out for a few hours when we got there.
We went to dinner at a tasty Italian restaurant. Jess and I shared some apple pie for desert which was pretty tasty, though apparently not Italian.
We walked to the Van Gogh museum to catch the evening hours exhibition. I really, really liked it. The starry night painting (the second overlooking water, not the cafe one), was really strikingly beautiful in person. The prints just don't capture all the colors and texture.
We were certainly out of place in the museum. Jess and I had put on shorts since our long pants were dirty. It was high 50s- cool 60s and I don't think Europeans where a lot of shorts even when it is actually hot outside.
I definitely had a moment inside the museum where I noticed I was standing around all these fashion-modelesque dutch people with tastefully fitted high-style outfits and there I was in my bermuda shorts and flipflops (none of those around either), probably smelling pretty bad and clutching the Rick Steve's "Best of Europe 2009" book in my hand. Think I gave my tourist identity away?
Then we walked for about 2 hours trying to find our way back. We ended up having to go to the train station and retrace our steps. Luckily Jess spotted the friendly glow of the redlights across the street from our hotel and we made it back.
Bikes
So the field hockey coach at Wake tells her players from Holland to "get on your bike and ride to Holland" when they aren't running fast enough. Now I truly understand why that joke works.
In Holland there are THOUSANDS of bikes. And THOUSANDS of people riding them everywhere. This was so strange to me. The bikes are nothing special, most look pretty old school or second hand. But the people on them are dressed very very fasionably and most are chatting on their cell phones as they whiz along the bike lanes.
After you've accidentally walked through a bike lane once, you pretty much will have a irreational fear of bikes for the rest of your life. As we were trying to avoid it again, I asked "where is the bike lane?"
Stivo replied, "this whole damn town is a bike lane!"
During our two hour walk when we were trying to find the hostel we decided we were kind of like Fred Flinstone trapped in an episode of the Jetsons. We were meandering along in our prehistoric cargo pants and flip flops on the side of the road while all these beautiful people zoomed by on bikes from the future as they talked on their state-of-the-art super Blackberrys, speaking a language that sounded so foriegn. But once we got used to it was kind of fun to take it all in.
Though I won't be surprised if when I get back home I scream and jump off the sidewalk into a ditch if I see a bike coming towards me.
Bikers ruining my amsterdam picture
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