Amsterdam, Bits&Pieces. 3

Caaaaaaaaats! I'm officially an international cat lady! I get a badge and everything! 

 Plaster molds of real-life men of the Nias Islands in 1910. Only one man is vaguely smiling, and as an installation, they all seem to take on the anonymity of the Chinese terra-cotta army.

 Baby-sized bikes!

 Public playground. Yes, that is a giant rope climbing gym AND a metal trampoline built into the ground. Guess who thinks kids are only made better for getting hurt? Me AND the Dutch!

 People more concerned with taking pictures of Rembrandt's "The Nightwatch," than actually looking at the thing. ;) 

More house than houseboat.

Amsterdam, Bits&Pieces. 2

Here's some typography porn for you all. Oh, just me? Well then I'll simply try not to drool on you while I practice changing my handwriting. :)

You're not imagining. That's a whole store for billiards. 

Taking the anti-tourist photo in front of the most-photographed typography in Amsterdam. 

We asked some locals. They don't even know what this sign means. 

Amsterdam, Bits&Pieces. 1

Here's me and the scooter I bought, parked in front of my new apartment! Just kidding, but don't I look like I fit in? Thanks, Mom&Dad for the Scandinavian heritage! Thanks, hipster style for totally translating to Europe!

Here's the house I would buy in Amsterdam, if I were into that sort of thing. :)

Here's a watercolor print by Jan Sluijters I did buy, because I'm going to be a grown-up and start collecting art. It is half of my B.A. after all.

Wall of ties and killer polka-dot wall at suitsupply, a fabulous Dutch mensware shop that had Ian drooling. They're opening one in Denver! Score!

 Speaking of Denver... Someone's hometown reppin'.

&Other weird stuff on walls

Amsterdam, Full Stomachs, Empty Wallets.

Alright, enough about Amsterdam architecture.You're tired of hearing me talk about it probably. So let's talk about those other things for which you come to Europe. Namely: food&shopping.
Eating in Europe is an adventure, and other than fries&pea soup, I haven't figured out what "Dutch" food is. We've ended up eating Mediterranean most days, which is just fine with us. 

On the first night, jet-lagged and stumbling, we ate here. The man running the restaurant was wonderfully sweet with pale skin and ink-black hair, and he told us to come find him for the best parties when the restaurant closed at 1 am. We assured him we could barely stay awake as we let the leisurely pace of European dinners wash over us. We split Kalamata olives and tzatziki sauce for a starter, and Ian declared the pita bread the best he'd had.  We worked our way through a few more courses and, near the end of the meal, the old couple who had been sitting next to us stood and helped to clear the tables in the restaurant. The waiter explained they were his neighbors and had been eating at his restaurant for 17 years. When Ian and I were finished eating, the waiter poured all five of us glasses of cold white wine. I closed my eyes to the greying dusk of the north and tasted ocean and fresh and springtime.

Fast food before the Rijksmuseum. Bet you can guess which is mine and which is Ian's! I'm trying to make up for all the chocolate I'm eating. And yeah, I'm saving the chocolate post for the end. :)

This was our lunch spot on the second day that we spent shopping (ahem, hence Empty Wallets). It was kosher Algerian and the curried chicken&roastedfennel&chickpeas&freshminttea warmed us up from the rain. It was only one girl taking orders and serving and cleaning up. She had dark curly hair, perfect linen capris, and more than a few languages had combined to give her a wonderful accent that made every word sound like a song. She seemed happy and not concerned whether we paid before or after we ate.  Ian and I were happy to sit on that little blue bench and watch the characters who were floating by on the canal in front of us. Mostly it was groups of Brits who were cheering their national pride in the city-appropriate Queen lyrics, "I want to ride my bicycle bicycle bicycle."

I love Europe's food culture because the best restaurants are the ones tucked away into corners that could be doorways to private homes. Only the shelves of wine bottles seen through a window give away that more than one family dines there, and I always feel like I've had a secret whispered to me when I find them. And even without knowing the language, watching people interact over meals reminds me that, truthfully, we are all in this world for the same things: being happy and spending time with people we love, doing things we enjoy. 

Ah, I know, how philosophical of me. I'll stop there. 

But you know what I enjoy? Gelato... And I'm hoping you guys are beginning to pick up on the fact that "gelato" stands for an idea a lot bigger than just ice cream. :)

Amsterdam, Canal Wanderin'

First of all, let me apologize for the bizarre formatting issues I'm having with these posts. Things are hard to navigate on my iPhone from abroad. But, I promise when I return home to a real computer, I'll switch them all into wonderful uniformity.

Let's talk about uniformity for a minute, or rather design in general. Because my favorite thing about this canal city is the dedication to good design on all levels, from the architecture and layout down the the door handles and texts.

Amsterdam is built on canals, much like a famed Italian city. But whereas Venice is built into rambling canals that sink (literally, at an average rate of 1m/years) into a romantic devotion to the past, letting tourists outnumber locals 9-to-1, Amsterdam is a city that knows its history, but never lets the 17th century hold it back. Amsterdam's canals provide structure to the city; a logical suggestion of movement that wagon-wheels from the outer edges, where Ian and I have a hotel, to the inner circle with the train station at the center. Yes, you can take canal tours; yes, you can rent paddleboats, but mostly they're cold and slow. Amsterdam is a city that moves. Quickly.

Biking here is an extreme sport, and we've loved watching how people tailor their bikes to fit their needs.

Like this one, complete with a windshield to protect the baby-seat welded to the handlebars.

This is the bike parking at the train station near our hotel. People don't lock their bikes to anything, they simply lock the wheel to the frame, because anyone carrying a bike whose wheels are chained is a giveaway that it's been stolen.

Ian, sitting on a bike seat affixed to a pole. 

Besides the bikes, I would chose to live in this city for the architecture. The buildings themselves are all the same: tall and skinny. But between the door-frames and trimming and window-shutters, they each take on a distinct personality. I'll leave you with these pictures, because I'm posting this from breakfast, and it's a new day for more exploring, (and I've got to go wake sleepyhead brother up).

Europe, In Fragments. 2

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I've just arrived in Amsterdam and I forgot how much I love this country for it's commitment to modern design. Sitting in the airport waiting for my brother's flight to get in, little memories are finding me here.

​Amsterdam, 2.

​I was here on a trip over Easter weekend with a few friends from my study abroad program in Italy.

​We rented a paddle-boat and 'biked' down the canal. We wanted to rent real bikes, but opted not to in fear that we might be too stoned to ride them.

​We ate about two pounds each of chocolate from Puccini Bomboni, and went through a 35-minute-long decision about what toppings we wanted on fries. (Again, stoned. Sorry, Mom!)

​We went to as many museums on our museum pass that we could fit into a weekend, and I wished I went to more museums back at home.

​We ate Chinese food the first night, and crêpes the second in the top floor of a restaurant/house with only four tables.

​Paris, 2.

​This trip was in May 2009 with my ex and my mother, who joined us at the end.

​We stayed in the suburbs, and taking the commuter trains&buses made us feel like we were real locals.

​We sat at a table at McDonalds, but ate Brie on pears and swore we'd never go back to hamburgers.

​We ate crêpes here too, in a neighborhood that was too design-savvy for its own good, and we pretended that it was the neighborhood we lived in as [successful] writers and artists. (Being directionally challenged, I will never be able to find that neighborhood again).

​We took a self-guided chocolate tour and learned a difference between the two of us: I ate my macaron the second we stepped out of the shop, and he wanted to wait and savor it somewhere special.

​When my mom arrived, we had dinner at a restaurant with long tables with benches and bees on the menu.

​We spent an entire day at Musée d'Orsay and she treated us to lunch at the restaurant with the most beautiful ceiling I've ever seen.

​We stood at a church, somewhere, and were startled when a priest and two nuns crashed out the back door, habits flying behind them. We made up stories, wondered where they were going in such a hurry. Twenty minutes later, they came back holding pizza.

​I'm so excited to be back here. I can't wait to share memories with you as I make them.

​(And I hope there's some gelato, because I do love it.)

Europe, In Fragments. 1

I am an extremely fortunate, well-traveled girl. As I am approaching my fifth trip to Europe, it occurs to me, as it seems to often these days, that my memory is insubstantial at best.
I have a hard time remembering stories of places I've traveled, or best friends' favorite restaurants, or even arguments I've had with people. I worry that my brain is deteriorating at an abnormal rate, but I also worry that it could be because I'm not a very good listener.

On this upcoming itinerary, I am traveling to Amsterdam, Paris, and Ghent in Belgium. For the former of those three cities, this will be my third trip each.

These are my memories of those places from before.

Amsterdam, 1:
I was 12; it was December. I spent most of the afternoon sleeping, finally understanding the concept of jet lag.
On our way from the hotel to the train station, a homeless man asked us for money. He proceeded to follow us several blocks, my theory is still that he did it because my father was so frustrated by him. I don't remember if my dad gave him money or not.
We went to find somewhere to eat, and I was amazed that people we asked spoke English. We ate Chinese food for Christmas dinner.
The Van Gogh museum was huge, and in my mind it's is the same museum as the Design Hall of the Denver art museum. My mom was so excited to be there, and it's funny to me now that Impressionism and post-Impressionism are my favorite artistic periods, just like they are hers.

Paris, 1: Still 12, still December. Our hotel was tall and skinny. We stayed in a different room from my parents. My brother and I giggled most of the night, and I still remember him saying boys could pee without turning on the lights because they peed in neon. I remember being happy that Ian was my best friend.
We went to the Eiffel Tower, looked up at it, but did not ride up. I thought I would be scared, like it was a roller coaster. We ate a Greek restaurant down the street, and I considered myself more worldly because of it.
The Louvre was gigantic, and we ate at the cafeteria. The Mona Lisa was small, but impeccable. And beautiful.
I couldn't eat enough croissants with jam (and I considered myself more worldly for that, too).

Gelato is worldly too.  And I do love my gelato.