(Day 1) I amsterdam.

Welp, I’m back at it. After a three-month absence of writing (though the date of this blog will be back-dated), I’m sure you’ve missed my ramblings! Or not, but I can’t really hear you so it doesn’t matter. Guess what?...Yes, I went to Amsterdam! Could you tell from the title? I’m working on becoming witty again, so bear with me. The whole story though, takes place in not just Amsterdam, but a spattering of European locales. Sounds luxe, right? It totally was.

Aside from a brief jaunt to Eastern Canada earlier this year, I’ve been deprived of anything remotely resembling holidays. Don’t you feel sorry for me? I assume any pity will be washed away when I tell you that my holiday season arrived in the worst way come October 1. You see, this was the day I departed my life to sojourn in the Mediterranean for over two weeks. You see? Pity = gone.







As you can tell, our flight was with KLM Royal Dutch; this means that the flight attendants were generally all tall, thin, grinning, blonde women decked in this sky blue colour. Having never flown with KLM before, I didn’t know it, but I was in for a treat. All aboard the Audrey Hepburn! Next stop, Amsterdam, Netherlands.





I’m not well-traveled enough yet to not be completely enthralled with this on-demand television business they’ve started. A movie to watch? Games to play? Language lessons? Yesh preese!


We’ve got a ways to go…and 8 hours to get there.

The real treat arrived with dinner. Gosh! Who knew airplane food was so delicious. It was like I was dining plein aire in Paris at Chez Airplane.





Perhaps I am making much ado about nothing, but when you are jammeled into an airplane, you celebrate the small victories, if they become available. And they rarely do.

I snoozed off and on for hours and Marty thoroughly enjoyed the game system. Sucks for him though…we’ve got a day full of adventure in Amsterdam ahead. But first, breakfast.








We’re here!

Schugenschlaffen Amsterdam! (That’s Erin-styled Dutch for “Hello Amsterdam!”)



Amsterdam’s airport is called Schiphol, which is pronounced “Shiffle”. So fun to say!



So when we booked our flights, we got a smoking deal - providing that we spend seven hours in between flights. I thought this was great since it gave us a chance to get out and see the city; Marty was worried that doing so would cause us to miss our next flight. Who was right? Who was paranoid? Keep reading!

As I like to pretend I am pro-ace traveler of the world, I was mightily prepared and had our boat tour tickets, required trains, estimated times, etc all handy in my bag. It wasn’t long before we had grabbed our train tickets and were on our way into the heart of the city. Did I mention we were kind of dead tired? True story.






Arriving at Amsterdam Centraal Station (no, that extra “a” is there on purpose.)

I must admit that I am part Dutch, but I don’t know which part…or how big it is. I can tell you though, that I love pancakes, which I think is what pannenkoeken is.


I’ve arrived, my people!

We decided that the first order of business was to get acquainted with our new surroundings, so we cashed-in our boat tour tickets first. Apparently this is quite popular attraction in Amsterdam, which makes sense, since the city is lined and covered with canals. Ah hoy mateys.







The captain was totally this portly fellow wearing a sailor’s hat and smoking a cigar while lurking beside the vessel. The toilet facilities on the boat reflected this fact. Off we go then.







The boat tour was really decent. The only downside was the fact that the captain didn’t stand up and give the commentary in a pirate voice. Well, that, and the lack of proper toileting facilities, like mentioned before. The tour brought us out into the bay and docking areas, down into the city’s intimate walled canals, and past some great historical sites, like Anne Frank’s house. Let’s take a peek.






I found Nemo.


Our pirate captains OTHER vessel is this pirate ship. You know, like guys who drive Civics that have bumper stickers that say, “My other car is a spaceship” or something stupid? No? Ah…(distracted)…hey, look at that!




City Hall

















Oi, this is a lot of pictures, isn’t it. But you almost wouldn’t know I’m on a boat! Hooray for no peoples’ heads in my pictures!






Bicycle parking lot. People were so amazed by this.



Finished! So as I’ve mentioned twice already, my mind was clearly on some kind of toilet by the time we were done the tour – I tend to drink a boatload (pun!) of water when I fly and now it was taking its revenge. Sadly, Amsterdam doesn’t offer a free toilet unless it’s just an open urinal on the sidewalk (more on that later.) I was on a mission – I went to a clean-looking souvenir shop and they directed me to the restaurant’s basement next door which had a washroom to use for a measly 35 euro cents. Okay, so I went, but when I headed down the stairs, it was just like, a big open room with men milling about. So awkward. I continued my search from place to place while slowly making our way to Amsterdam’s infamous red-light district. I finally happened upon a decent-looking pub and took the plunge (pun again!), spending a lofty 55 euro cents! It was supposed to only be 50 cents, but the bathroom attendant handed me only 45 cents and replied, “50 cents”. Con artist. At least they had two-ply.

Sufficiently more relaxed, we now focused on the task at hand – getting to the seedy area of town (as if the city isn’t seedy enough already).


Look! There’s a sign that says “Sex Shop”! We must be getting close. Or maybe not. This IS Amsterdam…the city’s symbol is a red circle with “XXX” written inside.



So, kind of awkward story: We were walking and then I stopped to check my map. Then, I turned around and was surprised to see a large black lady standing in the window behind me staring at Marty and I curiously…in her bright red silky underwear. Okay, I guess we’ve arrived.





Marty got a little freaked out but I kept my eyes of the “prize” (though what we saw could in no way be classified as a prize) – I wanted to take a walk around the inner loop. He opted to stay standing outside and keep his mind clean of the visual abuse that was sure to follow this course of action. Take one for the team! In I went.


Yes, this is a statue of a prostitute! Let’s celebrate the city’s accomplishments. To save my readers’ sanity, I didn’t take pictures of any of the ladies. That, and I feared their pimp might run out and attack me. However, in the picture above, if you can see the right lights above those windows near the bikes, I can assure you there were some mostly-naked ladies standing in them. They would also hang out in doorways with their bits and pieces barely covered. OI! One lady yelled me as I walked past her window…and I didn’t even look at her. Maybe that’s why she was yelling? Hectic!

So I got back to where Marty was supposed to be standing only to find he had disappeared. Perfect. I quickly got mad but decided to wait for him on the sidewalk beside a phone booth. Well, that’s what I thought it was anyway. It was a steel sheet about 3 feet in height, pierced with holes bent into a circular booth, suspended on poles stuck into a concrete slab. A guy walked in and began peeing. That’s my story. Good thing I didn’t get any on my shoes.

Back to Marty. Turns out he decided he didn’t want to miss out on seeing what Amsterdam had to offer (for crying out loud – it wasn’t much!!) and just wandered in after me, not knowing it was a loop. He suddenly appeared from whence he came, looking quite sheepish and embarrassed. Good! I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the fact that area was absolutely littered with groups of males – some American, many European, all gawking. Perhaps the scene improves at night, but it would be gross to me at any point in time. Moving along...

So we’ve been introduced (albeit the hard way) to one kind of urinal. Here’s the second.



I call this the “Quad Pee”. I like how they’ve stuck a men’s washroom indicator on the urinal, as if one would confuse them for ladies’ or something? Besides, who is going to enforce that if ladies start using these anyway? In this city, they likely wouldn’t bat an eye and oogle the whole time. Yes, I did see a guy use one and it will likely haunt my dreams when I am elderly.

The weather was incredibly dreary with rain dripping on and off all day. The whole city also kind of smelled like urine. (I’ve said “pee” and “urine” far too often for one blog.) I think the city knows this and has started naming restaurants after this fact.


Mmmm…Manneken Pis fries.

We did a bit more wandering before we decided that Amsterdam had made a strong enough impression.







So trains apparently don’t travel too frequently to the airport so we had a bit of waiting at the station on the platform. We stationed ourselves on a bench opposite a train that was boarding and reflected on our short time in this place. Suddenly, we hear a toilet flush on the train. Then, shortly after (too shortly for comfort), the pipe leading out of the train shoots out toilet paper and liquid onto the tracks below.


This continued several more times. We even started wondering exactly what would shoot out next, but the most exciting it got was a cigarette carton. We looked down the miles of tracks surrounding us and, sure enough, they were covered with debris (I’m being so polite here.) Say it with me: GROSS.

Marty completely crashed on the train ride back to Schiphol and I was just grossed out still. Once we arrived back at the seemingly clean and sanitary airport, we bought some really expensive sandwiches from the grocery store and waiting patiently to board for the last leg of our journey. I can’t believe this is still the same day – I worked this morning!



NEXT STOP ROME! UWAAAA~! Okay, so I was a bit excited but the plane ride over was so jammeled again. It was hot and dark and just a bit miserable. After our long transition, we finally landed at Leonardo Da Vinci Aeroporto to very little fanfare. Our luggage came off pretty quick and then it was off to find our hotel shuttle. After a very heated battle between trying to find the shuttle point and a working/normal payphone, paired with a few snaps to overeager Roman taxicab drivers, we were on our way to the Hilton to meet with Grant and Rachel (our traveling companions.)


Leonardo DiCaprio Airport (or that’s what I call it anyway.)

Funnily enough, as soon as we entered the hotel lobby, Grant and Rachel were there. HAPPY TIMES AHEAD FRIENDS!



We chatted for a while before settling in for the night. Oh dear, sweet blissful horizontal sleeping positions, I’ve missed you so.



Tomorrow we bust out of the Rome area without seeing a single thing and drive over to Civitavecchia to board the biggest ship in Carnival’s fleet – the wondrous Dream! Please, do come too! I’ll show ya around.