Amsterdamn. (The Odyssey)

Amsterdamn (The Odyssey)

These past three days in Amsterdam were... difficult. Though I had a terrific time exploring the city/ spending quality time with my mom, some events occurred not even delicious beer could get the bad taste out of my mouth.

Ultimately, the words Athena said to Telemachus at the beginning of Homer's Odyssey kept my spirits up; upon hearing his lamentations about his destined trek she remarked "Childishness no longer beseems your years: you must put it away." Many times over this weekend, my childishness came to bear but in each instance, maybe after a moment of wallowing, I put it away and enjoyed my journey.

It's easiest to tell my epic weekend in chronological order:

Day Een:

Have you ever flown economy class for eight hours? If you have, you realize that no matter how skinny your neighbor is or how decent the meals are, its a rough time (and if you haven't, you're lucky).

But the part of the flight I most dread occurred after we landed - I got off the plane at 8am in Amsterdam with three hours of sleep and without my favorite flannel, in which I had made memories upon memories. Truth be told, I have a bad habit of leaving important things on planes (I've lost two wallets in the past two years on metal flying machines) but this one stung and the grief was compounded by my regret that I had not brought any other warm articles of clothing. This was the first bad news of the ordeal.

From the airport, a car drove us to my mom's AirBnb and I promptly fell asleep. I restarted my day a little after one, and set out to check into my hostel. After doing my singular chore, I walked around the North of Amsterdam, an area across the Amstel River from the bulk of the city. It was a pleasant stroll: the neighborhood was peaceful and I happened upon a fun street market but within two hours I had traversed the entirety of the borough and returned to Amsterdam Central, still irked by my reckless abandonment of my beloved garment.

There, I wandered looking for an appealing drinking establishment. After passing many "authentic Dutch cafes," I decided to enter The Doors Palace, half due to my desire to brag about living in Jim Morrison's old apartment and half due to my desire to forget about loosing my favorite flannel. Though my bragging was not properly appreciated by the bartender, the bar was very interesting: it had a mellow vibe (after all it was 4pm) and the walls were plastered with concert posters of The Doors. For the next hour, I drank my first legal beers, wrote my first journal entry, and put my childishness away.

From that point forward, the night was marvelous! I had a delicious four-course meal with my mom and a colleague of hers at a fancy schmancy Italian restaurant. Too lazy to take the ferry to my hostel, I slept at the AirBnb and swiftly defeated the forces of jetlag.

Day Twee:

A breathtaking Dali

This was a great day. Upon rising from my twelve hour slumber, my mother and I walked to Jordaan to go to an incredible organic street market; Noordermarkt had briny oysters, funky squash, delicious coffee, and reasonably priced lederhosen but we walked away empty handed as we went down to the Museum District. There, we skipped by the Rjiksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum and instead went to the Moco Museum, where there was an exhibit on Banksy and Dali. 

The exhibit was fascinating however I simultaneously felt very unsettled. While the Dali exhibit blew me away, as I found a new appreciation for his work which previously tended to simply overstimulate me to the point of confusion, the Banksy exhibit disturbed me. Being able to see Dali's work in its rightful context, sitting on the wall of a museum, brought me clarity but seeing Banksy's work, which was made to be on the streets, in such a context left me with a sense of inauthenticity. Do you think an artist who has such overtly anti-capitalist themes would approve of his work being cut out of buildings, sold at auction for exorbitant prices, and put in a museum which charges admission? I don't think so... but that isn't my problem, so onward we traveled. After a nice bike ride through Vondelpark, my mom and I split ways and I headed for the hostel. 

It was a horrible night. The first hour at the hostel's bar was fun, I engaged in some nice small talk with Argentinian folk, but quickly a frustration with language barriers and stasis sent me on a walk. I happened by a cafe and grabbed a delicious slice of apple pie which prompted me to take the long way home. Soon, the skies opened up on me and the Dutch deluge soaked through my pants, boxers, rainjacket, and phone before I could finish my (now) run back to the hostel. Clothes dry but unfortunately, technology does not: my phone sustained irreparable but functional damage. I spent the next ninety minutes, sopping wet, freezing cold, and seething mad in my bed in the hostel, where I was awoken each time anyone opened the door of the fourteen person dormitory. After trying to sell my soul to the devil in exchange for a towel, I scurried back to the AirBnb to end the night.

Day Drie:

After realizing the extent of the damage to my phone (the screen lights up like a rainbow when you open a picture of a grey sky), I drowned it in a bowl of rice and then went to check out of my hostel. I was ready to let the freak accident of the night before ruin my entire day if it weren't for the fact that my mother would not allow me to waste her time like that. The words of Athena once again rang through my head as I was forced to swallow the bitter pill of the night before and enter the day with a smile.

So I stowed my childishness and we set out for the day, heading East to the Rembrandt House. Reminiscent of my favorite museum, the Isabelle Stuart Gardner Museum, the Rembrandt House was the art dealer's home and was filled with paintings that decked the halls when he lived there: they were able to find out what he owned because he was forced to auction off his belongings when he went bankrupt at the end of his life. Out of all the featured work, I most enjoyed his etchings, filled with delicate cross-hatching and meticulous detail. Then, to get a dose of history we went to the Resistance Museum where I learned about the Russian Gulag system and the actions of Dutch individuals in subverting the Nazi's in WWII.

The view at one point during the boat ride

At the end of the night, we went on a boat cruise with Those Dam Boat Guys, which I found very entertaining. Though not historically focused, it was hilariously funny and I had the opportunity to have a couple genuine conversations with a local. The captain Gideon was remarkably crude for supposedly being sober however he ultimately redeemed himself by giving an awesome recommendation for a bar, the Arendsnest. Not only did I walk in to find fifty beers on tap but also a behavioral economist who was on the boat with us; we shared a few rounds and had a fascinating conversation about the nature of economics. And so my time in Amsterdam came to an end, but it wouldn't be fair to not thank my mother for being such a wonderful companion and patient friend to me the entire trip. I may not have loved Amsterdam, but I loved the time I spent there mainly because I had the pleasure of spending it with her.

Next:

Certainly, the three days in Amsterdam were not as arduous as Odysseus' journey back to Ithaca, but they were a rough road. Tonight, I am sitting at the table of the farm which I am working at for the next month, not frightened but nervous. Nervous for what exactly, I'm not sure, so it is once again time to put that childishness away and get to work! 

I'll let you guys know soon how it's going on the farm, thanks for reading!