After a fairly fitful night of sleep on the bus (like Eliot’s Magi, I “traveled all night, sleeping in snatches”; too bad for me there were no “silken girls bringing sherbet!”), I arrived at 05:30 in a cold, rainy, deserted bus station by the Amstel River in Amsterdam. After investigating the various modes of transport available to Centraal Station, I hopped on the Metro (which until then I didn’t realize Amsterdam even had – although it only goes a few stops) and arrived in Centraal at around 06:30. I checked my luggage into a locker and wandered the streets of the centre in search of an open café or internet café. But everything was quite deserted and desolate and I feared I would be mugged and end up in the bottom of a canal, as actually happened to a childhood friend of mine in Amsterdam a few years ago, so I headed back to Centraal for a bit until a café opened and I could call Leah.
After arranging to meet her at around 09:00, I walked up along Damrak and Roker and actually found an EasyInternet café that was open. Thirty cent and 30 minutes later, I headed back out to meet Leah and grab a bit of breakfast.
We wandered around a bit after that, stopping off to run some errands. Then, as I was running short on time, I said goodbye and returned to Centraal, getting soaked in the process, picked up my bags and made my way out to Schiphol, completely exhausted. Hoping for a quick nap on the train out to Schiphol, I was rudely moved by the conductor, along with all the other unwitting passengers who saw the travesty in having a first class section on a 20 minute, near-empty ride, and sought the closest, most comfortable seat. It’s odd that in a country where you can smoke weed and liaison with hookers freely in the streets, you can be fined for sitting on the wrong half of a train car. But I digress. Got some cheese and chocolate at the airport, and hightailed it back to the States after an incredible month’s trekking about.
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