Gangster Magen!

I didn’t want to leave Amsterdam this morning.  The combination of good company, food, architecture, art, and bicycling through one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen in my life all combined to make me ridiculously nervous and high-strung last night.  We were supposed to wake up at something like six, and went to sleep finally at around the hour of two or three.  It felt like a slumber party; we were all laying in bed, looking at the ceiling, and talking about things that might not make sense to any other group of three people.

Simon taught us some fun words, and we discussed the political situation worldwide, as well as what different sorts of cultures choose for their languages.  Apparently, in Sweden, they have a derivation of “Fonn!” when they curse, which means something devilish.  In Norway, they also say “Fonn!” and in Denmark, they say “Funn.”  In Finland, however, their big bad curse word is “Perkere!” which had me literally rolling on the floor due to uncontrollable laughter.  Something about the manic gleam in Simon’s eye and the ridiculously upbeat-sounding curse word did it for me.  I about died.

I didn’t get any official Dutch pancakes, which made me a little sad, but dinner was a delicious French savory pancake recipe with cheese and pepperonis and ham, which was more delicious than I can possibly describe.  In spite of things turning slightly sour on the last day (my bike’s tire went flat, I fell off the bike for no physical reason, the cash exchange kiosk was closed, etc.) I didn’t want to leave. 

It’s strange when you connect with people when travelling.  You know that you won’t actually speak with them outside of this small overlap of magical moments when all your lives are relatively unencumbered.  Time, however, slips away and reality waits for no man.  My time in Amsterdam was amazing, and I love the city.  So thankful to our host and the great care he took with showing us everything he could in 48 hours.

Today, we woke up, and missed our first train.  This was unfortunate, especially given how few trains aligned perfectly with our timetables.  We plan on being in Prague tonight as I’m typing this on the bus from Nurmberg.  We had no idea if we would make it, because negotiating public transportation in one country is difficult enough.  Try negotiating three, and all of them in a language that’s not English.  Perkere!  We ran for it for part of the way, but when I looked back, Gill was lagging behind, so I stopped, since I wouldn’t leave without her, anyway.  Simon caught the train after sprinting from his house to the station, but the conductor couldn’t hold the train any longer.  We were SOL. 

Having already changed plans once and stayed the extra night in Amsterdam due to the inability of the Czechs to keep train tickets open for night trains that leave directly from Frankfurt, we needed to renegotiate our plans and find a different way of getting there.  We settled on an all-day combination of trains-trains-buses, and set out at that ungodly hour to make it on time.  Of course, the first thing that could go wrong went wrong. 

Simon walked us to the next bus station, where we bought one-hour tickets for all public transportation, and set us on our way.  I was too stressed and tired to say “thank you and goodbye” properly.  I caught him watching our bus as we were leaving, though, and waved.  I think he’ll miss us almost as much as I’ll miss him.  It really felt like we had another traveler showing us the sights, and experiencing our journey with us.  An intelligent, funny, witty, extremely accomplished person, who could always be relied-upon to help us find our way when we thought we were hopelessly lost, or to make the most unexpected joke.  I feel bad, too, since he said initially that he had some homework to do over the weekend, and he was with us for pretty much every moment of our time in Amsterdam.  Maybe he was part of the reason we were so eager to stay that extra night.

So there are Gill and I, on a bus in the middle of Amsterdam, freaking out because we still want to make out 7:04 train to Frankfurt to get to Prague on time, and with no idea where we need to disembark, and which tram we should take.  Not to mention that everything is written in effing Dutch, and we just left our guide behind us.  We took off running from the bus because at the stop near the tram station, we noticed a tram waiting for stragglers.  We didn’t think twice about stepping onto it; only when we were staring at the map did we think about the direction in which it was going, and in which direction we needed to go.  We decided that we needed to change trams at one point, and disembarked, only to find that we were going in the incorrect direction from the train station, and that we were looking at the wrong train station to begin with!  We were aiming for the Southern train station, when we actually needed the Central one.  Isn’t that the way it always goes?  At this point (7:20) we had absolutely no hope of making our train to Frankfurt at ALL, so we relaxed, and watched the city wake up.

There were bakeries just opening, and bikers on a very early morning commute.  The “coffee shops” weren’t filled with their normal amount of stoned locals, and the tourists were much more docile.  We met a couple who embarked onto the tram from the center to buy their tickets.  The public transportation in Amsterdam costs 2 Euro 60, and works on every bus and tram for a full hour, regardless of how many transfers you make.  It’s quite useful, but you need to scan the card they give you when you walk onto a tram, and then scan it again when you get off.  It’s slightly cumbersome, but easy enough to learn when you have a bit of common sense and an open mind.  I educated the tourists in the proper technique, and remembered the two actually useful conversational phrases we learned in Dutch when getting onto trams and asking for assistance (“Dankebiel,” which means “Thank you,” and is eerily close to the Ukrainian “Dyakuyu” in my mind; “An Zu Blicht,” which is “As you please,” or “If you please”).  They overheard our plans for the day regarding arrival in Prague, and told us that they were just coming from the Czech Republic on their way home to the States.  They told us that beer was much cheaper in Prague, which is a welcome change to the ridiculous price mark-up everywhere else in the EU.  I’m excited about the cheap food, since there’s no way to eat normally on a strict budget anywhere else. 

We made it to the train station, and waited at Spoor 4b for our train to Frankfurt, which arrived on time.  We got on, and sat down in seats that were apparently unreserved, because no one asked us to get up from them after we’d sat down.  That train ride took about four hours or so, during which I journaled, ate delicious mini stroop waffels (tiny waffles with the most delectable filling: sweet, and caramel-tasting) read, and napped, in turns.  There were some ridiculously-annoying American tourists who got onto the train in Koln. 

Travelling Europe, I’ve found more hatred for Americans than I have in my entire life living in America.  I probably shouldn’t judge too harshly, since everyone is travelling, and annoying habits come out whilst engaged in travel, but I seriously can’t think of a more fucking annoying nationality at the moment.  They’re loud, disrespectful, and completely oblivious to their surroundings.  Like when people are biking in Amsterdam and Americans walk on the effing bike paths.  Stupid bums.  Or when they’re on a train, and INSIST on sitting in their reserved seats, even if there’s someone else’s jacket on the seat they’re assigned, the person is nowhere in sight, and there are a host of empty seats around them (which happened this morning).  Their only interests are going into the museum, reading the placards in English, and taking pictures where it clearly says that picture-taking is forbidden.  Luckily, the Dutch are the most easy-going people I’ve ever met in my life, so they don’t seem to care too much when Americans are stupid in their country.  It annoys me, though, and I feel the resentment growing against my countrymen every moment.  It’s getting a little scary, to be completely honest.

The train from Frankfurt came in, and the next train to Nurmberg was the one we needed.  Luckily for us, the two trains shared a platform, so we literally had to wait five minutes, and we were on the train.  This time, the trip only took about two hours, and we spent a portion of them eating in the dining car.  Surprisingly, the train food was delectable.  The bread in particular was excellent; very fresh, and nutty, and filled with yummy things like seeds and rye goodness (not to be confused with ‘wry goodness,’ though a related concept).  We arrived in Nurmberg, and had to find a place to buy tickets for the bus to Praha.  We found the kiosk, and sat down on very comfortable chair to get a glimpse of that famous German efficiency.  We were in and out within ten minutes with our tickets bought, and our seats on the bus reserved in spite of the crowd of people waiting for their tickets alongside us.

Outside of the train station, Nurmberg was rainy but lovely.  In contrast to Frankfurt, which seemed very urban and industrialized, Nurmberg had a sense of monumental history.  At least from what I saw, which is admittedly very little.  The train station was designed with historicity in mind, and the apartment buildings surrounding it were a little touch of Modern.  It was a pretty city, but my heart’s still in Amsterdam.  Maybe if I’d seen more of it, I would’ve enjoyed Nurmberg more. 

Now, on the bus, I have a beautiful view of the German countryside on either side.  The bus is double-decker, and we’re on the second deck, which afford me the very best view imaginable.  The land is green, and the grass is already in its full glory.  Everything looks like a lime-green carpet of Astroturf, and the houses are small and well-spaced.  The road occasionally cuts through mammoth forests with trees that have moss growing all the way up their lengths.  The woods are a riot of color, and remind me of paintings because of the distribution of the shades.  There’s the dark green of the conifers, which are always bright.  There is the slightly lighter green of the large deciduous saplings and aspens, and the reddish brown of infected, dead trees.  The sky is patchy, with some clouds and the occasional bright spotlight, which serves to highlight a particularly-mystical portion of the countryside. 

I do love the road.  It’s exhausting, stressful, and nerve-wracking.  The road tests you on every level; it challenges you to rise to your absolute most ingenious surviving self, and sometimes yields to your plans.  More often than not, it continuously and deliberately foils your intentions; you find yourself in the most unspeakably gorgeous pieces of the country with no idea how you chanced upon them. 

I’m sure living here would be horrendous on many different levels.  There are solar panels on the roofs of centuries’-old houses, and the windows are neat and tidy.  Even the stacks of firewood seem organized by size in a way nothing in America ever is or could be.  Unlike the Dutch countryside, though, the German one seems regimented.  In the Netherlands, I noticed consistently-spaced irrigation ditches creating a grid pattern in the landscape.  Here, there are rolling hills and large pieces of clean brown earth between fields of verdant vegetation.  Another few meters, and you have the darkest forests imaginable, where will o’ the wisps, and bent old witches must hide behind every oak of a certain age and calibre. 

My fellow adventurers are varied and certainly not all here for the road.  They are here for the destination, or their origin.  Drifting, however, is the only way to travel.  When you have a goal in mind, there is nothing but that goal.  However, when you open your mind, and practice just a little bit of acceptance, the world surprises you with exactly what you never knew you were always searching for.

We just officially crossed into the Czech Republic.  About another half hour, and we’ll be in the capital.  We’ve crossed two and a half countries in one day.  This post is obscenely large, so I’ll stop now.  Sorry about the lack of pictures, but trust me: you don’t want to see my face right now.  Kidding.  I pull off smelly remarkably well, but I’m too lazy to take/upload anything today.  I’m sure there’ll be more than enough to make up for it tomorrow.