Last of Amsterdam

I recently gained a new appreciation for plateware and cutlery.

In the place I was staying in Amsterdam, actually more accurately, Vleuten, I had no access to a kitchen or its "luxuries" (i.e. plates, forks, knives, cups)

Luckily, my flatmate Alessandro lent me a fork, a plate and a cup. But even with those, I found myself doing things I'd never had to do before. For instance, I peeled an avocado like a psychopath. One little piece of brittle skin at a time. Biting into it like a fruit and alternating between that and a baguette. But let me tell you was it ever worth it. It was possibly the greenest, most perfect avocado I've ever eaten. Fortunately… because sometimes you get a gross avocado, and that can be very disappointing.

My time in Vleuten was interesting. Alessandro was great, and made my trip. Really. Without him, I would have run screaming from that house. And apparently it was in the best condition Ale had ever seen it. Sure, it was clean and tidy. The shower was hot and had good pressure. The toilet worked and there was TP. The bedroom was clean and the sheets were nice. But the man. That man that owned the place, was something else all together.

I want to speak positively of him, I really do, but what he did was gross.

I believe I mentioned him already, the tall, lurch-type guy. Ya him. He was a hoarder in the politest form of the word, and a creep.

At first I entertained the awkward, unsolicited conversation. He stood in the doorway as Ale and I smoked a joint. Throwing himself into our conversation and taking it over. I really don't appreciate that, conversation hijackers. Like who invited you? Who asked for your input? Or your segues?

He stood there and talked to me while Alessandro looked at his screen, obviously not interested in the conversation. Which was fine, it was what came next that bothered me.

He stood there talking to me with his hand in his pocket, and suddenly, dropped out of the conversation, stared at me and began to move his arm rhythmically. He stood there shaking, basically, looking down on me not breaking his gaze. As soon as I realized what was happening, which didn't take long, I stood up, and excused myself from the room. Locking myself in mine, not answering when he tried to speak to me through the closed door.

Fucking gross.

I'm not telling you this to be a sensationalist. I'm telling you to explain what it's like to be a woman in this world. What it means to be a solo female traveller, and what we women tend to encounter in the world of perverted men. It's a serious condition, beyond irritation, bordering on violation. It made me feel absolutely gross.

I later told Alessandro what had happened, he was confounded. How could that have happened right behind him and he had no idea?

That night I slept with one eye open. Making sure to barricade my door, but still waking to every sound outside my door.

I should move on, this is triggering and just making me angry. But I will say I was very happy to be rid of that place.

Before I left I had my last little hang out with Alessandro. He gifted me an adorable tote bag with his insta tag "monsterintesta", which is a really ingenious page, you should check it out. It's essentially finding faces in everyday things.

Once it stopped raining, I left the house. I made my way to Amsterdam station where I left my baggage in a locker, and took to the city.

I walked around, my intention, kind of interestingly appropriate: to find the red light district. I went in the wrong direction for a while, being led to a miniature version of the famous place of debauchery.

I quickly realized it wasn't what I was looking for. I redid my google search and found the right place. Conveniently, very close to the train station.

I got there and the sun was setting. I felt it was appropriate to witness the distract in all it's glory in the dark of night.

As promised, there were women in windows, half dressed, marketing themselves as objects for sex. I feel like once upon a time it may have been more interesting. There would have been more performance in the windows, more dramatics and intrigue. Not to judge them, or tell them how to do their job, but these women sat there idle. Looking at their phones in underwear and a bra, framed in a window of red light.

There were theatres, massive buildings advertising sex shows of all kinds, including teenage sex. The lines were made up of mostly men, of course, but what I noticed was that a LOT of them were asian men. How curious.

I entered a few shops, let myself be traumatized and intrigued by all the things they sold openly. I won't name a list, I'm sure you can imagine.

I entered the sex museum, and the marijuana museum. But didn't pay to go in. I just stood in the main lobby and took in what I could without paying.

I had a bus to catch anyway. I went back to the central station to grab my bags, and made my way to Sloterdijk where I'd catch my bus to Berlin.

I made it with ample time, found the bus section, and settled in. I triple checked my ticket for time and place, then made a phone call. Somehow in that time I had let my brain convince me my bus left at 11:35, instead of 11:15. So, you guessed it, I missed my bus.

So it's almost midnight, it's raining, and I'm sporting 50lbs of luggage. Fuck. Now what?

I looked for hostels, the cheapest one was just around the corner. A 10 minute walk, but I couldn't be bothered so I spent my last $5 cash to get there. The cab driver was so great, talked me down from my stress, told me tomorrow would be another day and one day I'd laugh at it. He drove around until he was absolutely sure of where to drop me.

When he did, I got out, adorned myself in luggage, and waddled over to the absurdly high curb where I fell, hitting my shin pretty hard. He checked in, I stood up immediately and said I was fine, and made my way inside.

I was in bed my midnight, which was nice. An all female dorm, where everyone was fast asleep and silent. Great. Only my mind was lit with thoughts, frustrated thoughts, "Giada, why are you so stupid?".

I had done the same thing I had done when I left my bag on the bus in Barcelona. I didn't keep my mind on the task at hand, and distracted myself enough to lose sight of what needed to get done. My lesson: pay attention, read every part of the ticket, and don't distract until you've accomplished the task.

I was curious. What phase is the moon in right now? I looked it up, and sure enough, it was 100% full. If you're astrologically inclined, it was a full moon in scorpio, and MAN did I get stung. More than once.

I booked a bus ticket for the following morning, and tried to sleep. I tossed and turned for hours. But couldn't get over what had happened. What a day it had been.

I know for sure I was awake between 4 and 7AM. I curiously checked my phone exactly at 4:20. Then again some time around 7. I woke up at 8 something to the sound of a plastic bag rustling. Few sounds are more obnoxious first thing in the morning. I had to turn this mood around. It was all so negative and downward spiralling. So I told myself today would be different, it would be good, and I'd soon find out why I'd missed my bus.

I got to the bus station early enough. This time there were people working that I could ask for direction. Turned out where I had waited the night before was not the place my bus would have been. That was for city buses, the bus I wanted was to be found at the opposite side of the station. With no signage indication.

I waited for my bus to Berlin, only to realize the ticket I bought the night before was for May 3. Not April 30. At this point I just laughed out loud. "Giada, you idiot". I bought the last available ticket for April 30 to Berlin, this time double the price because it was last minute. I cancelled my May 3 and decided to just swallow hard on all the money I had just eaten in the last 12 hours.

Waiting in line for the bus two guys walked up dressed as messengers sporting a bike. Okay, finally a good sign. One of them noticed a patch on my bag from CMWC Montreal, a messenger race. It got us talking. Finally, I felt like I was realigned, right time, right place.

One of the two boarded, honestly I don't remember his name, but I've already decided we are friends. I offered him a space cookie I'd bought the night before, and chatted with him at the rest stop.

Now I'm back on the bus, Berlin bound and feeling a bit more calm in what I just went through. I knew there was a reason, I just was impatient to find out what it was. And maybe that's it.

Okay, I've written a lot. I'll end it here.

Sorry for the stress this may have caused. Believe me I felt it more.

All my love,

G