Amsterdam or bust!

Queens Day weekend, my first introduction to Amsterdam!

After boarding the train Amsterdam bound from Paris, I immediately noticed travelers dressed in the national color, bright orange. About half way into the trip, I awoke from my slumber from a loud metal crashing sound under the train. Within seconds, the announcer translated in 3 languages that there is a mechanical malfunction and we will be changing trains in Brussels. I turn to Joe and express how I’m equally concerned and impressed by the quick and organized response to the problem. Joe responds by telling me more often than not, his supposed 3-hour trip to Amsterdam turns into a 5+-hours trip from train malfunctions. I was somewhat disappointed but not willing to let this dampen my excitement for my first trip to Amsterdam.

The train transfer was a bit chaotic & our train car lacked air circulation, but we made it to Amsterdam only 30 minutes late. We quickly debark the train and make our way to the tram station. The tram is a handy mix of metro meets bus. I quickly learned to beware of walking near the tracks or risk being warned by a loud, terrifying tram horn. The streets of Amsterdam are rather narrow and you see very few (and very little!) cars. The main means of transportation by locals is a bike. Imagining what this must be like in winter is daunting, but from what I’m told the people in the Netherlands are a hardy bunch, used to long, cold winters. I witnessed this first hand as the weather was mostly wet & chilly throughout the weekend, yet, bikers wore no gloves or rain gear.

From our tram stop we walked a short distance to the house. On the way, I notice the block filled with very narrow & tall colonial like homes. We enter our temporary residence and immediately climb the stairs to our lofty room on the 4^th floor. The stairs are just barely wide enough to fit the toes on my size 8 feet. I couldn’t help but wonder if humans were really that much smaller just a couple of centuries ago. As soon as we settled in, we head out to eat at a restaurant just across the street. Less than 24 hours later, this quaint Amsterdam Bistro serving all entrees with the typical local side dish, chips (a.k.a. fries) and mayo, will be transformed into a club like setting with a DJ playing Euro House music from 10am-10pm.

Everyone who visits Amsterdam tells me how much he or she loves it. Beyond the hype about the red light district (which I did NOT visit by the way!) and the cannabis friendly town, it’s been relayed that Amsterdam is a beautiful & peaceful city. With the picturesque canals running in and around the quaint, narrow streets, it’s very easy to feel a sense of tranquility. However, as soon as nighttime came the streets started filling up with visitors from all over. Joe & I decided to take an evening walk. We stopped to have drinks at one of the many bars with outside seating near the water. Sitting just next to us was a friendly Russian couple that quickly became our companions for the evening. Skena was a lively 27 y/o who was obsessed with French culture (she loved Joe!) & Eugene (don’t think that was his real name!) was a friendly, 50 something with a questionable vocation. From what we could gather, she was a pseudo housewife and he worked very little but they lived & traveled comfortably. Anyway, I’ve never really met a real Russian couple from Moscow. But, Skena & Eugene, were everything that I imagined. Animated, boisterous, obsessed with 80’s heavy metal and able to drink Joe & I under the table.

Needless to say, the following day Joe & I decided to take it easy. We got up early enough to walk around the streets before the madness began. The entire city became one big outside flea market. Children were selling & trading toys, vendors & families were selling homemade baked goods (sans cannabis!), and shops & locals were selling off clothing items & house goods for next to nothing. By mid afternoon, the streets were filling up with waves of people dressed in neon orange hats, shoes, jackets, shirts, dresses & more. Some were still drunk from the night before and most were on their way. By the early evening boats were over crowded with people dancing, drinking & blasting music. Every street corner had an outside DJ, people dancing and a guy passed out in the corner oblivious to the passersby taking pictures & blowing orange horns in his face. The party went on most of the night despite the wet weather. The next morning the picturesque streets & canals were littered with garbage & orange memorabilia. By Sunday, most of the city was cleaned up enough to enjoy walking around and see some sites. I recommend the Van Gogh Museum & kilometer long market! Just when I was finally getting used to not having to say, “Pardon” & “Oui” all the time, it was time to hop the train back to Paris.

All in all, Amsterdam is an enjoyable spot, especially for an American. Most everyone speaks English, it’s pretty easy to navigate, and compared to Paris it’s quite affordable. You can expect to meet interesting people from all over, see some cultural sites and drink cheap but good local beer (Amstel & Heineken!) but DON’T expect to find a good cup of coffee at a coffee shop! J

Until Next Time! –City Girl

MOTHER'S DAY

When I was about 3 years old, I would dress myself up in a pink tutu, sparkly silver & blue leotard (that my mom probably decorated) and dabble on some lipstick. As soon as I was ready, mother would call out from the living room, “Preeeeesenting…Kellie…Nicole…[Last Name =)]!” I would then dash down the hallway excitedly while my mom would sing some funny, unrecognizable introduction tune. My grandmothers, aunt or cousins would be my captive audience as I did some sort of impersonation of a dancer or possibly some dance move my cool, young aunt recently showed me. (Obviously, I quickly found out that dancing was NOT my forte!) This is just one of the “when she was…” stories my mother love’s to share.

Living in Paris surrounded by Joes family, I’ve heard many “when he was a child” stories, especially from his mother. Though Joe cringes every time he is within earshot, I quite enjoy the tales. It reminds me of my own mother, my childhood and her love of sharing often times embarrassing stories of my youth. I’ve come to appreciate the fact that story telling is a shared trait amongst moms.

In a way, mothers surround me. I grew up in a family of women. Both of my wonderful grandmothers lived within a mile of my house, and female cousins, aunts, etc… always seemed to be visiting since we lived in sunny south Florida. If I think about it, the ratio of woman to men in my family is about 4:1. This makes for very interesting, sometimes humorous often emotionally, chaotic moments. But in a way I’m lucky (as my mother reminds me) because beyond all the chaos, I have a number of strong female mentors. Sometimes it’s a grandmother (even though both have passed), a cousin, an aunt or even a close friend I’ve adopted as family. All of who are strong, loving, passionate, sensitive, intelligent, (the list goes on) women.

Even in these modern times, women still bare the responsibility of balancing “professional self” & “family self” while keeping some sense of “attractive self” for their romantic life as well a little room for “just being me” self. My mother is no exception to the rule. I watched my mom run her own business, pick me up after work, cook dinner, keep a clean home and still find time to work out, socialize or savor some alone time before starting her day again. It wasn’t a burden but a role she cherished. So much so that when I went into High School (and my father’s business was thriving) my mother decided she needed to be a full-time stay at home mom (okay, partly because she wanted to keep me from being the wild child she was in high school!). Some teenagers may not have appreciated this, but I look back on those years fondly. My mom was a permanent fixture on school trips. Going to an inner city schools, I was always impressed how easily she adapted to the diversity of students. I had numerous memorable parties where my mom would go all out with games & decorations, even entrusting me with a sans parents after prom party! My mother kept me organized and on track all the while keeping an open door, no judgments policy that she still maintains to this day. Many friends from all walks of my life know my moms as well as they know me. And no matter where I’ve lived, (Tallahassee, NYC, Paris and who knows where else!), we maintain a mother-daughter relationship like no other. (Not to say we didn’t go through the normal, occasional growing pains!)

Needless to say, I’m taking a sentimental pause to express my love and gratitude to the most important woman of my life. She is my role model, my best-friend, but most importantly, my mother. A woman I’ve watched be a rock through family illness & loss, stay focused and positive through financial hardships, stand steadfast & firm on her beliefs & values and have the determination to pick herself up & start over no matter how scared or exhausted she may be. She is strong & independent and equally sensitive & sincere. It’s through her strength of character & passion that I find the courage to follow my heart & life’s ambitions. And although I sometimes fall flat on my face despite her words of wisdom and advice, she is always there with words of encouragement to help me pick myself back up and move on. So, as hard as it may be to admit, (And I have learned the hard way!) the old saying is true more often than not "a mother really does know best"…

Thank you to all the mother's out there for your patience, love & support.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!