062417: to Amsterdam

Things we learned today:

1. It’s true that you can sit in a cafe for hours (even in the airport) after ordering and finishing food and be no bother to the wait staff.  They don’t mind you using their internet to try and finagle a place to stay for the night.

2. Book stuff earlier (and don’t rely on an AirBnB host to not unexpectedly cancel on you) or you’ll end up in a half-swanky hotel for the night, determined to get and stay at least a few steps ahead of your wandering feet for the rest of the trip, if for no other reason than your budget.

3. Hostels are cheaper and easier to find online when you’re in the actual city, although hard to get same day (see above lesson).  Most I looked at online in the States were more than twice than what we found for the next couple nights.

4. Public trans is great as long as you’re paying attention to where you’re going and not joyously ecstatic about finally leaving the airport and heading to a place with a shower after six hours.  Otherwise, you may or may not miss your stop twice while figuring out how to indicate to the bus driver that you need to exit.

5. The Amsterdam airport may as well be a suburban center- a mall, train station, and airport packed into one- where you can find good food cheaper than outside the airport in Denver.  Also, the coffee packs a mean punch, in both flavor and caffeine boost, but for you’re only served one creamer pack.  The kick made the bitter 110% worthwhile.

6. The bathrooms in the Iceland airport are glorious- single fully enclosed toilet-sink combos that feel more private and clean than the one in my old apartment, where I lived alone (lol).  Also, the crisp, clean, beautiful modern architecture thematically spread into the food market where we sought out breakfast- fresh salmon subs, chia power boost yogurts, and the vegan breakfast option (baked beans below a fat farmhouse tomato covered in pesto).  It’s hard to feel clean after seven hours on a plane, but that place did it.

7. I should pack before the day we’re leaving.  At least the night before, because inevitably, the Iceland air queue will be unbearably long- stretching to Bridge Security around the corner from the kiosks, giving me enough time to repack the clothes and supplies I’d literally thrown into my backpack forty five minutes before.

And last, but certainly not least,

8. The Dutch are handsome, tall, and well spoken men who work at waterside restaurants inspired by Hemingway (which just make me super happy inside) who will tease us about asking where to find a gay club in Amsterdam and for eating appetizers as dinner.  Our inner meal schedules say dinner and a beer at 10:00PM though it’d been telling us to eat at every airport junction while traveling all day.


Tomorrow, we (hopefully) find our way easily into downtown via train, to our hostel for the next two nights, and then exploring museums and markets.

And from my Danish seed scientist seat neighbor flying out of DIA, the quote of the day-“Ah, yes, because flying is transportation, but the train is travelling.”

More tomorrow.



This feeling is different than all the others.

Funny how that happens still, huh?

In moving, excitement combats nostalgia.  This particular move is full of nostalgia.  This was the first apartment I’ve ever inhabited alone.  I put this house together, and now I’ve pulled it apart.

I’m feeling the push and pull of imagining yourself transient- wondering how long I’ll really stay free this way, but I knowing my time is short.  Then, the next adventure.  I’m sitting on the floor on a cushion next to my record collection, because every bit of furniture in gone from my home.  The home that isn’t really my home anymore.

It’s been nearly six months of dreaming about Europe, three months of knowing for sure that it’s happening, and now, less than a month before it’s time to go.  The one significant piece still here, hangs on the wall across from me- a map of the US my road trips dotted across it, each with their own color marker.  I realized today that an addition was necessary.  A World Map.  I’m still a bit awed by it.

In a technological mishap, I happened upon some photos from my last cross country trip, a totally different sport than International travel.  It still filled me up with more energy to roam.  The rush of leaving comes back to me know.  I’m partially gone from the life I’ve been living since I picked up and moved across the country.  It’s a feeling of anxiety that has morphed positively into a channel, flowing through me and moving me towards the next growth period.  Like a salmon traveling to breed, there’s an instinctual drive rooted in my core.  I’m just trying to make sure no Grizzly paws me out of the stream before I land in Amsterdam.

More to come.