Amsterdam, Day 2

Normally, I prefer to walk through new cities so that I can drink in my surroundings, but since I’d agreed to meet N at 10, I would’ve showed up late had I gone on foot. Instead, I hopped onto the tram, and luckily didn’t have to pay for a ticket since the machine was out of order. (Hey, even saving 2.90€ is a huge help when you drop a hefty 38.50€ on two museum tickets. Yes, two. Amsterdam, sadly, isn’t a fan of student discounts.)

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We spent at least two hours in the Van Gogh Museum, because that man isn’t famous for nothing. If I could paint, I’d probably be running around copying his and Impressionists’ styles. Next, we spent another two hours in the Rijksmuseum–yes, I know it’s an art museum, but it’s a bit overwhelming because there’s so much artwork in there, I didn’t know where to look. (I also ran into F, a fellow Picardie assistant, there—small world.)

Eyes satisfied but stomachs starving, we grabbed delicious burgers from The Butcher. (Thank you, Amsterdam, for knowing how to spice your food, unlike France. Seriously, my chickpea patty contained more spices than I’ve ingested during my entire time in France.) Outside the restaurant, the street market on Albert Cuyp saved my life. Although I’ll never use it outside of Europe, I now have a USB wall plug for my phone and portable battery.

N and I parted ways at the Heineken Experience, and I wandered the city instead, drinking in the gorgeous canals and architecture. A stroke of genius hit me, and thanks to Google Maps, I found my way to the bench featured in The Fault in Our Stars film. Who knew sitting on a bench could be such an awesome experience?

Dinner consisted of fancy Ramen at a museum restaurant, where the waiter looked deeply confused/judgmental when we walked in. Look, give us some credit, I promise we can afford your food. The day ended in me telling myself not to buy any peanut butter from the supermarket, because thanks to white people paranoia of terrorism, I wouldn’t have been able to get it through airport security. Sorry, peanut butter, you’ll have to wait until I get back to the US in May.

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