Land of cheese and canals

"You know," I said, while we were walking down a straight one-lane road, surrounded by wooly sheep, shaggy cows, and vibrantly green grass, "it's easy to forget how much I wanted to do this, now that I've actually done it." We were walking toward a lighthouse perched on the Dutch coast, right outside the tiny fishing village of Marken.

The "this" referred to was both big and small. It referred to walking out to the lighthouse (which Rick Steves had recommended, but we had briefly considered skipping, and I was glad we went ahead and did it). It referred to our trip in general--I'd always wanted to go to Amsterdam. It referred to the idea of weekend trips; of using a European year abroad as an excuse to take off on a Saturday for the Netherlands and not return until Tuesday. And it referred to studying abroad, to the long-ago thoughts and plans that floated inside my head, back in 2006, and 2007, and 2008 and 2009, all whispering: Go for it. Take this year and plunk yourself down on the globe in a new place; live and study and do something completely different, for just one year.

That's enough introspection for now; there will certainly be plenty more, I'm sure, over the next few weeks, as my time at Pembroke comes to an end, and I leave Oxford and start out on a new adventure for two weeks before returning to the U.S., and to my home. But suffice to say that weekend trips like the one Bri and I took last week to Amsterdam were one of the main reasons that I wanted to study abroad in the first place.

Our trip began on Saturday, when we rose in the late morning after the late-night Macbeth, and made our way via Tube and EasyBus to Luton Airport. Our transportation was shockingly stress free, and the 45 minute flight to Amsterdam sped by. Navigating the train to Amsterdam's Central Station, and then taking the Metro two stops, we found our way to our home for the night. Way back in November, I wrote about my Grandma Inge, and her cousin Phil, and their journey to America. Phil's daughter, Gwen , lives with her Dutch partner, Jan Jaap, and their daughter, Caitlin, in Amsterdam. I'd only met the family once before, three years ago, but they so very generously opened up their home to us for the night and were the most wonderful hosts. Gwen cooked a delicious dinner, complete with pasta, fresh mozzarella and tomato salad, and blueberries and ice cream for dessert. We felt pretty spoiled. Plus, there was an adorable five-month Bernese mountain dog puppy, and Gwen spent an hour or so going over a map of the city with us and getting us oriented.

The next morning, saying our thanks after tea, coffee, and organic muesli and yogurt, Jan Jaap walked with us to our hostel.

The Friesland, a "cozy boat" as its description promises, was just that. Yes, it was still a hostel, with shared bathrooms and less-than-ideal showers, but we had our own miniature little bunk room with a round window.

As for the rest of our trip, I'll let photos do most of the talking...

One of the many reasons I love my traveling companion: our shared interest in red wine, Moleskine journals, and quiet corner cafes.

We took a day trip to Waterland (VAH-tare-land), per Rick's recommendation, and visited three tiny towns in one day: Edam (home of the cheese), Volendam, and Marken.

Sleepy Edam.

The square where the Kaas (cheese) market is held on Fridays. We agreed that we'll have to come back on a Friday...

Edam

Volendam

Marken

Marken

Marken--our walk to the lighthouse.

You almost didn't get to see these photos, because I stupidly put my camera in my raincoat pocket and didn't zip it. And it fell out, and I spent a frantic and upsetting half an hour running up and down the waterfront of Marken (which isn't that big), looking for it. Thank goodness for kindly Dutch men, or one in particular, who had picked it up and was keeping it in his office. Camera saved! Photos saved! Jubilation! I celebrated with some Dutch fries.

It was back to Amsterdam, then, where we enjoyed wine and dinner at Kantjil de Tiger, an Indonesian restaurants recommended by Rick, Gwen, and our map. We had to try it. And for all my clamoring about ethnic food, and how I love it so, it was a shock to look at a menu where I recognized not a single item. But we went for it anyways, and ended up with quite a vegetarian feast. Indonesian food, I like you.

And that, my friends, was my last weekend trip...this year. Sad? A little. But it was certainly a good one to end on.