Exodus to Amsterdam Göteborg

What?

It’s been over a month since our last update?

Um… whoops?

Let’s see… in the last month, we’ve managed to: participate in a Red Cross Walkathon, travel to the small Dutch town of Delft, bike 30+ km to the small town of Zaandstad (twice), get lost in the Red Light District a few times, and generally have more amazing experiences than any expats should be able to have without getting arrested.

I (Scott) don’t mind telling you… there have been more than a few times where I’ve been riding my bicycle home quite late at night (usually quite well into my cups) and ridden past a cathedral, or bridge, or some other brick structure older than Canada, or taken a high-speed train from one town to the next, or have been tending the net at a field hockey matchup and thought to myself, “this activity, that I’m doing right now, I’m doing WHILE. LIVING. IN. EUROPE.”

After 3.5 months, I’m not (snicker) homesick for Calgary (guffaw), or miss hearing about mid-April snowstorms in the prairies, or even remotely upset that I didn’t get to watch my home team miss the playoffs for a 3rd straight season.

I’m mostly STILL blown away that, after 32 years of life, I’m actually living on another side of the planet.

Still blows my mind.

Anyways, as it goes, the cats have settled in nicely, the street in front of our apartment has been torn up for reconstruction, and tomorrow is Koninginnedag, a national holiday, where (from what I understand), the entire city of Amsterdam looks much like this:

And how have you been.

amsterdam, you big tourist bicycles, cats, field hockey, immigration, red light district

Just got back from our second stop on the Immigration Train, this time to get registered as residents and get our BSN numbers (think Social Insurance or Social Security numbers).

In an interesting turn of events, due to an improperly-legalized form, it turns out that according to the Dutch government, Shannie and I aren’t legally married. Once the form gets filled out properly our marriage can be properly recognized in the Netherlands, but until that time, we’re registered as two single adults living at the same address.

So now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to go pick up chicks.

amsterdam immigration, living in sin, red light district, taxi

(There, THAT should be a sufficiently attention-grabbing title.)

Today was another walkabout day, and if I thought that Shannie put me through my paces on Sunday, I was mistaken. The problem we’ve had so far is that jet lag has been a killer. Getting used to the 8 hour time-zone shift has been difficult. We’ve been taking naps every afternoon and then finding ourselves both wide awake at 3:30 or 4:00 in the morning. Our plan today was to be out all day, and not allow ourselves to be home to take naps at all until bedtime.

This plan involved us walkin, it would seem, through all of Christendom and back. We didn’t even get to every location on the agenda Shannie put together, and by the time we staggered back to the apartment to cook some dinner, we’d knocked well over 10 km out of ourselves.

Granted, there were some few extra kilometeres that weren’t factored into the original equation.

Fun game: decipher the map below to determine where the extra kilometers entered the schedule! First one to find a million wins!

Also, the aforementioned “Hooray for Boobies!” Yes, a good portion of our stroll took us right through the heart of the Red Light District. Now, Since Shannie and I strictly obeyed the “NO PHOTOS” sticker on every window, this’ll have to suffice, thanks to Google Image Search:

That’s basically what it is… girls behnd a street-level (secured) glass door, with a little intercom you can speak to them through. You talk to them, if they like you, they open the door. It’s all very businesslike (well, except for all of the exposed flesh and skimpy underwear), these girls are professionals (they’re unionized workers with full health benefits), and the only reason I know exactly how the entire process works is because I watched it happen right in front of me a good couple of dozen times over the course of a few blocks.  Let’s not kid around… legalized prostitution is a huge part of the economy here. Even the Lonely Planet tour guide book for Amsterdam has an entire chapter devoted to it (it has another chapter entirely devoted to the marijuana-serving “coffee shops,” but that’s for a future blog post).

Through the course of our day, we also managed to snap some architectural photos, some pictures of a huge Saint Bernard in someone’s living room, and drink wine in Rembrandt’s Corner, the little pub next to the Rembrandt Museum. Now that we’re home and supper has been consumed (pan-seared salmon with rice, garden salad, and white wine), we’re off to meet a couple co-workers for a nightcap. To the pub!

amsterdam, you big tourist boobies, jet lag, red light district, walking

Number of times our pilot apparently got lost approaching Frankfurt: 1.

Pubs visited: 2.

Number of those before eating our very first meal in Europe: 1.

Times accidentally wandering into the Red Light District: 1.

Hours slept out of the last 30: 0.

Cats that are very angry with us: 1.

Cats that, given the circumstances, are acting like nothing has changed at all, despite being locked in a cage in the belly of a plane for 14 hours: 1.

Boxes of belongings that got badly abused by the airline: 3.

Number of those boxes that contained expensive bicycles: 1.

Novelty photos taken: 1.

amsterdam, you big tourist cats, lufthansa baggage tossers, pubs, red light district