Shower toilet.

Here I am. Amsterdam. I've screwed myself, though; I was really, *really* trying to stay awake until at least 7pm, but I couldn't move at about 4 o'clock and fell asleep for what turned out to be 10 hours. Right now I'm watching a National Geographic special on the Shroud of Turin because that and CNN (a weird version of CNN) are the only things available in English. Listening to the Dutch on the other stations is both fun and educational, even if I don't understand a word of it.

Photos are here.

The flight over was remarkable. First, it was so smooth that I probably could have slept if I ever slept on planes. Well, I did catch about 10 minutes between Iceland and Scotland. I watched Atonement (about which I was mostly indifferent... James McEvoy's eyes were worth it, I guess) and There Will Be Blood (which I LOVED). The sky never got completely dark, instead leaving a rainbow gradient-looking strip of half-light on the edge of the world for a few hours. I suspect you know how I felt about that.

I was sitting next to a pleasant young man with whom I did not start talking until the last hour of the trip. He lived in Paris for 10 years and now is in Portland. Amsterdam was only a stopover for him as he was headed to Ghana. I can't imagine getting off of a 10 hour flight and getting on another 8 hour flight. Eegh. He pointed out a wind farm off the coast of the Netherlands (of which I unfortunately did not get a photo... it was rad), and I pointed out the bright strips of blooming tulips in the fields once we were over land.

A one-word question waited for me at the customs area ("Vacation?") and I was through. When I stepped out of the baggage area, there was an H & M right in front of me... in the airport. I saw another one on the way to the hotel. The train into central Amsterdam was unremarkable, and I decided not to get my railpass validated right then (now I wish I had waited for customer numbers 145-188, though).

At this point, I think it appropriate to thank my father for the glorious genes he has passed on to me. I'm sorry if it sounds like bragging, but after some hours of studying Google Earth before leaving home, I didn't even have to look at a map to get to the hotel. Granted, Amsterdam isn't impossible to figure out, but I did take some side streets and alleys along the way (kind of necessary if you don't want to get stuck in throngs of elderly people in tourist groups on Damrak).

The thing that kept going through my mind as I slogged my too-heavy bag past canals (and tried to avoid slapping people with it) was that I used to have more than twice the weight of my bag on my actual body. No wonder I was tired and couldn't walk up stairs and had bad feet and hips and back. As much as I walked in the shoes I was bringing, the extra weight was significant enough to cause problems on my little toes. I couldn't have done this two years ago. I couldn't have done this five years ago.

My hotel is in a mostly residential area, with little restaurants and bars on the larger streets, and even an out-of-nowhere grocery-and-seemingly-anything-else-you-need store. It is a small, clean room with a SHOWER TOILET. I don’t suppose it would have been a real vacation without one. And really, it’s only inconvenient if you need the toilet while the entire bathroom is still wet. There’s a huge window in this tiny room. When I arrived, it was warm and there was a breeze, making it a perfect spring day. Apparently those across the way thought so, too; when I opened the window, there was a man tending the flowers in the planters hanging from his balcony (and listening to the Cranberries and Peter, Paul, and Mary) and a woman sunbathing. Naked.

It was so sunny yesterday that I think I may even have a bit of a sunburn. In Amsterdam. I am now happy to have brought sunblock.

It’s now 4am and I’m going to try to get a couple more hours of sleep. G’night.