So the cruise is finished, and we leave the ship, and head off on Vueling (which is a Spanish economy airline) for Amsterdam. Not a bad flight, but little leg room and no free snacks or drinks. We took one photo crossing the Pyrenees out of Spain into France. Then before we knew it we were on the ground in Amsterdam.
No immigration, no customs (thanks to the open borders EU- I can see the huge danger the European populist parties complain about in this). I managed to buy train tickets into Amsterdam, validate them, find the train and drag on the gi-normous suitcases. Finally, we get to Amsterdam Centraal and get lost. Hideously lost. Not that it’s a big station, but we’re lost anyway. We go out the wrong door and I’m thinking– okay, this looks nothing like the scenery I saw on my stalker-like special ops mission on Google maps, when I traced the trip from the station to the apartment (some of my facebook friends will remember that I got lost in the middle of that). Duh nimrod- you went out the wrong door. It only took me a couple seconds to figure that out, then back through the station, out the OTHER SET OF DOORS and we’re there.
Not there-there, but on the right side of the station with the church that looked suspiciously Russian Orthodox, was even called St. Nicholas, but is neither Russian or Orthodox and comes into this Amsterdam story later. So we start walking more or less along the Google Maps Stalker Route. And we’re doing okay. Sure, it’s raining a little, and bicyclists are tying to run all the pedestrians and the cars off the road, but that’s okay. Cross one canal. Street blocked, so go down a little side street. Mistake, but keep on walking with two maps, not just one, to guide us. Another canal. Then another. Okay, it’s got to be around here somewhere…
Well, it’s raining, I’m dead tired, feeling sick, completely lost since we’ve long been off the Google Maps Stalker Route. Finally, I see something that looks like the name of the street, though I know it’s not it. However, remembering that similarly named streets run into each other over in the Jordaan- I think, “Why not? We can’t get more lost…” And we didn’t. Found the street, then the building within five minutes. We ring the bell, the owner, who’s not there, rings us in by some sort of technological miracle, tells us we’re on the top floor, and then we open the door to see the most severe set of steps in a house I’ve ever seen. Like steps on a navy ship- practically straight up and down and narrow. And us with gi-normous suitcases…
So I drag them up the first flight, because if they’re in the entryway we can’t shut the door. Then, we drag them up, flight by flight, until we’re at the top. Apartment is nice. Things are in order. We unpack, call home, go get some really good pizza down the street, after which I climb the ladder to the loft and pass out. Then I come down to throw up. Three times. Great start to our visit in Amsterdam, yes?
But we managed to survive a trip on the Spirit Air of Europe, no crashes, no lost luggage, just a lot of steps.