When I was waiting at the gate for my flight from Gatwick to Fiumicino this January, I watched as each passenger came up to the agent and flashed his or her passport. I was the only American on the flight, and I was feeling quite lonely.
A couple months later the situation felt quite different as the night train from Milan to Amsterdam was checked by several very kindly, very heavily-armed Swiss customs officers. In a compartment of six students studying in Italy, only two were actually Italian; the others included a German teenager, a medical student from Korea, and a Chinese girl studying automotive engineering in Torino and who hoped to go to engineering school in the states. How about that for language perspective? Another indication of how oddly limiting Tuscany has been was waking up the next morning in Düsseldorf and, upon seeing all of the glass and concrete towers so unlike the stone and plaster of Siena and Florence, having the oddest feeling that I was driving through Hartford, Connecticut.
Amsterdam was, in short, an incredibly fun weekend. It was so delightful to see Bonnie again, and after just three days in the city I really cannot wait to go back and stay for a longer period. I got to experience beer and jenever by the canals, getting menaced by Amsterdam bike gangs, visits (of course) to the Rijksmuseum, Van Gogh Museum, and Rembrandthuis, the wonder that is the Openbare Bibliotheek Amsterdam, eating pancakes and stroopwaflen, and getting to rock out to Ladytron and “Dutch” Peaches (as well as a band that dressed in tiger spandex and the occasional octopus hat) in Amsterdam’s version of Goodrich Hall. Suddenly it was time to get back on the train.
I’m back to the world of stone, wine, and irregular public transport for just a week and a half, and it hasn’t really registered yet that that long-reserved flight out of Rome is coming up, and fast. Nothing to it but to do it, I suppose….
