Amsterdam! My haven, how I love thee. May I never return home, may America be crushed to death by all of its oversize shampoo containers and left unrinsed for eternity. For this is where I want to stay, in my larger than life room that is actually normal sized, with this appreciation for human interaction as I once was when I had my own personal space. I had forgotten how much of my self my lonesome can carry, and how experiences apart from everyone and everything are where I become whole. I only wish, however, that I did not spend as much time on the computer. Unfortunately, blogging is way more efficient than journaling, but ironically, this entry says way less than my letters to Colin.
I embark now, to read my guidebook and hopefully understand the twists and turns of this city (named for the dam on the Amstel River. Did you know that?) as it twists and turns my psyche. With its sporadic weather and somewhat unglamorous nightlife, its windy roads and its graffiti overkill, there is nowhere I’d rather be.
Except for maybe Barcelona. I want to see Julia.