[EUROPE SERIES PART 4/4]
Amsterdam, The Netherlands
First things first: Amsterdam is a biking city. It’s TERRIFYING. Everyone zooms around on their bikes and if you get in their way, it’s your fault. Good thing I didn’t mind being cooped up in our hotel during free time. (Below is the lobby hallway; whoever designed it with all this greenery deserves great things)
I don’t know if this place has a formal name but I remember just calling it town square. So here’s town square.
Here’s the entrance to the Red Light District right when I realized I couldn’t take any photos. (Hence, me capturing the no photos sign). If you don’t know what the Red Light District is, it’s basically the part of the city where smoke shops and prostitutes are openly advertised and accepted and LEGAL. It was pretty interesting actually; we would go through these super narrow alleyways – only enough space for a single person to go through – and lining the walls on either side of our shoulders were these glass doors, outlined in red neon lights. And inside those doors were the sex workers who honestly looked like dolls trapped in a clear plastic box.
The next day we visited some cheese farm in Holland and it was the best. Everything was so peaceful.
This cheese-tasting experience was phenomenal, and I’m not just using that word because I’m running out of adjectives. The cheeses really were super good. My cousins and I lined up for fourths.
I don’t know how else to wrap up this series except to say that it was a great trip. The most eventful part though didn’t come until the very last LAST day, when we had to go home. The story of how we missed our flight and had to scramble to book another and how we lost our luggages in the process and how if we even so much as delayed a single step, we would have missed the next flight and wouldn’t be able to get home.
Yeah, that was insane.
There were a lot of “Mommy, calm down” moments, “Hey that’s life” moments, “Are you kidding me” moments and even more literal heart-racing moments when we had to sprint from one end of the airport to the other, the wheels of our carry-on luggages barely touching the actual ground (much like how 1st graders drag their rolly backpacks across the courtyard when they’re late for school).
Anyway, I posted these pictures because I felt like it was a safer space than Instagram. (‘I mean, everyone my age travels and has the ultimate eye for photography so how could I possibly compete with that kind of content’ —— was my thought process). And it’s true! My photos aren’t artistic or well-composed or finely-edited at all, but I didn’t want to leave them untouched in my SD card for who knows how long.