If you know me, you know I am always cold. If I had a dollar
for every time someone has looked at my arms with disgust and said, “Are those
chill bumps? It’s literally 86 degrees out here,” I’d have at least fourteen
dollars. While I know this about myself,
and attempted to pack strategically, I did not foresee being without my
suitcase this long. (Supposedly the airport is sending it to our Amsterdam
hostel today. We’ll see). While living out of a backpack is really adorable and
all, I am very much in need of a shower. And wool. When the wind blows
here, it’s straight up Antarctica.
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| Shout out to Andrew for letting me borrow his scarf. |
But I am LOVING Amsterdam. Our first dinner at Restaurant
Meram, a trippy Turkish spot well rated by Yelp, did not disappoint. Although
the fish I ordered turned out, in fact, to be grilled chicken, it was
delicious, and I got to watch unibrowed men smoke hookah and finish off my meal
with this “very authentic” Turkish tea:
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| Happiness is tea in a funky shaped glass cup. |
Walking to Arendsnest, a cozy local bar with about a million
Dutch beers on tap, I found myself completely charmed by this city. By the time
the bridges over the canals lit up at dusk, I knew, suitcase or no suitcase,
there was no one on earth more content than me.
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| In the lower right hand corner—our favorite boat-dweller! |
Oh and by the way it's about 4:23 am here. Sup, biorhythms.
—Gabby
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