Part of living in Europe is travelling. Although this continent carries a large price tag for the cost of living, jetting around to other countries won't dent your pockets much more than a Southwest plane flight.
So over the weekend, I embarked upon my first trip, or holiday as the English say, to visit some friends in Amsterdam.
Upon arrival, I didn't know much about the place, aside from its reputation as a pot smoker's heaven. The stereotype was quickly proven true to me, as I stepped off of the train and into a big white cloud of smoke. I coughed. Then, I suddenly had terrible visions of a psychedelic weekend of dreadlocks and hippies.
But as I rode to my hotel, I gazed out the window surprisingly at a city as quaint as a country town, with sprawling canals and breathtaking architecture.
And although it felt like the North Pole, Amsterdam's natives were warm enough to make up for the lacking sun. It was a nice change of pace, from the solemn-faced people of London, to walk down the street and have my smile returned.
During my stay, I had an emotional visit to Anne Frank's house and got a little artsy at the Van Gogh Museum and Rembrandt's house. On one particularly daring evening, we took a stroll through the famous Red Light District, where scantily clad women sit seductively in open windows waiting for customers.
Being in Amsterdam was like being in another world. There are drugs, prostitutes, and open urinals in the middle of the street, yet the liberal city has very little crime and even less litter.
The most dangerous part of walking through Amsterdam at night is avoiding the massive cable trams, which zip around from every direction. And walking on the sidewalk does little to preserve your life, as cars try frequently to share the space with you. Still, they do make a huge effort to stop for pedestrians, which is more than I can say for London.
The locals use bicycles to ride around the town, which keeps the streets relatively empty, but the sidewalks are cluttered in a web of bikes. Parking your bike in Amsterdam carries the same risks as doing so at ASU. Criminals prey on those that aren't double locked and attempt to sell them to ignorant tourists.
The Dutch people are tall and beautiful and prefer to speak in their native tongue, but can turn around and speak English with hardly any trace of an accent. They greet you at restaurants and offer to help you in the stores. In some ways, Holland felt more like America than England, the place of our roots.
But although the city was like a breath of fresh air, I somehow missed the claustrophobic bustle of London. It was strange not to hear sirens in my sleep or dodge the traffic. I missed the nightlife and I missed riding the subway, which the English call the tube.
I must admit though, that for the first time in a while I heard birds chirping and could walk down the street in a straight line, without someone pushing me over. I breathed in fresh air and saw flowers.
When I returned to England, I felt energized and refreshed. I floated to my dorm through the busy streets of the city, daydreaming about my trip, while mentally planning my next adventure. I awoke from my fantasy as a car almost hit me. Sirens flew by and it began to rain. I covered my head and ran through the people. I am definitely back in London.
Reach the reporter at: katherine.mcdevitt@asu.edu
