We arrived in Amsterdam fairly haggard from our night at Coppers, but quickly brightened at the site of our Canadian waiting for us outside the gate at Schiphol airport.
After grabbing Tarrahs bag and mine (which was starting to feel like I had filled it with bricks and sand bags) we headed to the bus stop and hoped on the 197 towards the Rijksmuseum and the Flying Pig Uptown hostel where we would be staying the night. After getting lost for 20 minutes due to our general ineptness (and the fact that they place their street signs at hip height so they're not exactly easy to find) we found our hostel and dropped our bags.
The flying pig uptown was great (I even preferred it to the flying pig downtown which I had previously stayed on my last trip) and the area surrounding it was beautiful and serene as bicycles with gorgeous Dutch people behind their handle bars whizzed by. (I know there are beautiful people everywhere, especially in Europe, but I have literally never seen taller or more beautiful men in one place than in the Netherlands. Every time I visit, it's truly a real treat)
Heading in the direction of the red light district, we were all starving and stopped at a bistro to grab a bite and enjoyed a panino. (The best part of this panino experience was seeing our three disappointed faces when our sandwiches arrived with only bread, a few slices of cheese, and a tomato. A stark contrast to the sandwiches we are used to in America. That being said, they were amazing so similar to our immediate expectations on that bar in Ireland that looked like a snore fest and turned out to be a rocking time, the joke was on us.)
After filling our bellies, we continued on to see the infamous window ladies all while enjoying the incredible beauty that is Amsterdam with the gorgeous architecture, people, and canals. I thought we might be lost until Cori mentioned we were standing outside a dildo shop. (Must be close!)
Most of the red lights ended up being off, it was still early (or maybe Friday is a slow
Day for prostitutes who knows?), but we did manage to see a total of 3 dancing window ladies which seemed to suffice all of our curiosity. With Amsterdam's legal sex trade checked off, our next stop was a coffee house.
Neither myself nor my travel companions are traditionally ones for the Mary Jane, but with only 18 hours in Amsterdam - how could we not experience everything this beautiful city legally offered? We ordered 3 cappuccinos, one lighter; and a pre-rolled, no tobacco added, level 3. Like true toke novices, we each had a toke and immediately started coughing like emphysema victims before heading to get Nutella crepes, gelato, and French fries (in that order).
After our dinner of gratuitous Amsterdam delights, we headed back to flying pig and snoozed off. I think I had a dream I was levitating, or maybe I actually was, I really couldn't be too sure.
We woke up at 11:30pm, just in time to get out by midnight (which in the states would be about the time the bars were starting to close, but was plenty early in wonderful Amsterdam time).
For our first stop we walked to Paradiso which is a massive nightclub that is inside what used to be a big cathedral (steeple and stained glass windows still intact). The music was awesome and drinks were cheap, but we could tell from the average height across the room that there weren't very many Dutch people here so after a few drinks and an hour of dancing, we went off in search of another venue with a greater percentage of Dutchies.
We landed on the Disco Dolly which was suggested via a Facebook comment train when I had solicited a Dutch gentleman (Louis Kok) who we had met in Vegas a few years to give us some ideas of places to go. While en route to the disco dolly, our cab driver affirmed that it was in fact a local spot so there would be Dutch people there. When we arrived in the alley entry to disco dolly, we saw about 200 bicycles parked outside so we knew without a doubt we were exactly where we wanted to be.
Words cannot express how much we LOVED the disco dolly. Not only was it full of handsome Dutch giants (as if there are any other kind) - the music, layout, and vibe was awesome. Small, but multi-leveled the top level reminded me of a loft party and bar with the bottom level offering a larger bar and a sweaty, rocking basement underground dance party. It was awesome and we danced with the beautiful Dutch Giants clear through 4am.
As Tarrah and Cori literally had to pull me out of the club (I had met a Dutch cutie named Maarteen and had no interest in leaving the Dutch-filled dance heaven my dreams are made of).
While they dragged me out, we witnessed a bearded disco dolly Dutchie struggling to wrangle his bike from the alley and in his tipsiness accidentally knocking over the entire line of 200+ bikes. Because there's nothing worse than a beautiful Dutch men in angst, Tarrah and Cori rushed to his aid to attempt to pick up the bikes - just in time for the crowd to start pouring out and the bearded Dutchie to ride off on his bike hilariously leaving my comrades to blame.
Luckily for us, the dutchies seemed to find a group of Americans knocking over all their bikes pretty funny.
Outside the bar as we tried to explain ourselves, we met two gentleman. One of whom, I didn't catch his name, attempted to convince us to stay another night for a special festival happening the next night. Though our other new Dutch friend, named Rogier, explained that he might be over-exaggerating the "apple juice festival", I was still totally down. (Tarrah and Cori luckily were not as convinced)
(During our conversation, we also were offered vodka from a water bottle and witnessed two handsome tipsy Dutch Giants jump on a tandem bicycle which might be one of the best things I've seen in awhile as they weaved their way down the street)
Proving that Dutch men are not only beautiful on the outside, our new friend Rogier offered to walk us home. During our walk we learned that Dutch people learn to ride bikes around age 2 and each took a turn trying to ride Rogier's bike. My ride lasted about 5 seconds as I instantaneously rode is straight into a wall, but Cori was much better.
At the street of our hostel we bid our new friend goodbye and clamored into bed just as the sun was rising across the beautiful Amsterdam rooftop line.
18 hours in Amsterdam had been a smashing success. Until next time!
After grabbing Tarrahs bag and mine (which was starting to feel like I had filled it with bricks and sand bags) we headed to the bus stop and hoped on the 197 towards the Rijksmuseum and the Flying Pig Uptown hostel where we would be staying the night. After getting lost for 20 minutes due to our general ineptness (and the fact that they place their street signs at hip height so they're not exactly easy to find) we found our hostel and dropped our bags.
(Cori and I with our Amsterdam map/lifeline)
The flying pig uptown was great (I even preferred it to the flying pig downtown which I had previously stayed on my last trip) and the area surrounding it was beautiful and serene as bicycles with gorgeous Dutch people behind their handle bars whizzed by. (I know there are beautiful people everywhere, especially in Europe, but I have literally never seen taller or more beautiful men in one place than in the Netherlands. Every time I visit, it's truly a real treat)
(Beautiful Amsterdam)
Heading in the direction of the red light district, we were all starving and stopped at a bistro to grab a bite and enjoyed a panino. (The best part of this panino experience was seeing our three disappointed faces when our sandwiches arrived with only bread, a few slices of cheese, and a tomato. A stark contrast to the sandwiches we are used to in America. That being said, they were amazing so similar to our immediate expectations on that bar in Ireland that looked like a snore fest and turned out to be a rocking time, the joke was on us.)
After filling our bellies, we continued on to see the infamous window ladies all while enjoying the incredible beauty that is Amsterdam with the gorgeous architecture, people, and canals. I thought we might be lost until Cori mentioned we were standing outside a dildo shop. (Must be close!)
Most of the red lights ended up being off, it was still early (or maybe Friday is a slow
Day for prostitutes who knows?), but we did manage to see a total of 3 dancing window ladies which seemed to suffice all of our curiosity. With Amsterdam's legal sex trade checked off, our next stop was a coffee house.
Neither myself nor my travel companions are traditionally ones for the Mary Jane, but with only 18 hours in Amsterdam - how could we not experience everything this beautiful city legally offered? We ordered 3 cappuccinos, one lighter; and a pre-rolled, no tobacco added, level 3. Like true toke novices, we each had a toke and immediately started coughing like emphysema victims before heading to get Nutella crepes, gelato, and French fries (in that order).
(Coffee Shop)
After our dinner of gratuitous Amsterdam delights, we headed back to flying pig and snoozed off. I think I had a dream I was levitating, or maybe I actually was, I really couldn't be too sure.
We woke up at 11:30pm, just in time to get out by midnight (which in the states would be about the time the bars were starting to close, but was plenty early in wonderful Amsterdam time).
For our first stop we walked to Paradiso which is a massive nightclub that is inside what used to be a big cathedral (steeple and stained glass windows still intact). The music was awesome and drinks were cheap, but we could tell from the average height across the room that there weren't very many Dutch people here so after a few drinks and an hour of dancing, we went off in search of another venue with a greater percentage of Dutchies.
We landed on the Disco Dolly which was suggested via a Facebook comment train when I had solicited a Dutch gentleman (Louis Kok) who we had met in Vegas a few years to give us some ideas of places to go. While en route to the disco dolly, our cab driver affirmed that it was in fact a local spot so there would be Dutch people there. When we arrived in the alley entry to disco dolly, we saw about 200 bicycles parked outside so we knew without a doubt we were exactly where we wanted to be.
Words cannot express how much we LOVED the disco dolly. Not only was it full of handsome Dutch giants (as if there are any other kind) - the music, layout, and vibe was awesome. Small, but multi-leveled the top level reminded me of a loft party and bar with the bottom level offering a larger bar and a sweaty, rocking basement underground dance party. It was awesome and we danced with the beautiful Dutch Giants clear through 4am.
As Tarrah and Cori literally had to pull me out of the club (I had met a Dutch cutie named Maarteen and had no interest in leaving the Dutch-filled dance heaven my dreams are made of).
While they dragged me out, we witnessed a bearded disco dolly Dutchie struggling to wrangle his bike from the alley and in his tipsiness accidentally knocking over the entire line of 200+ bikes. Because there's nothing worse than a beautiful Dutch men in angst, Tarrah and Cori rushed to his aid to attempt to pick up the bikes - just in time for the crowd to start pouring out and the bearded Dutchie to ride off on his bike hilariously leaving my comrades to blame.
Luckily for us, the dutchies seemed to find a group of Americans knocking over all their bikes pretty funny.
Outside the bar as we tried to explain ourselves, we met two gentleman. One of whom, I didn't catch his name, attempted to convince us to stay another night for a special festival happening the next night. Though our other new Dutch friend, named Rogier, explained that he might be over-exaggerating the "apple juice festival", I was still totally down. (Tarrah and Cori luckily were not as convinced)
(During our conversation, we also were offered vodka from a water bottle and witnessed two handsome tipsy Dutch Giants jump on a tandem bicycle which might be one of the best things I've seen in awhile as they weaved their way down the street)
Proving that Dutch men are not only beautiful on the outside, our new friend Rogier offered to walk us home. During our walk we learned that Dutch people learn to ride bikes around age 2 and each took a turn trying to ride Rogier's bike. My ride lasted about 5 seconds as I instantaneously rode is straight into a wall, but Cori was much better.
At the street of our hostel we bid our new friend goodbye and clamored into bed just as the sun was rising across the beautiful Amsterdam rooftop line.
(With our new friend Rogier)
18 hours in Amsterdam had been a smashing success. Until next time!
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