The final leg of my journey included a stopover
in Amsterdam on my way home to Atlanta.
Click on any image for an enlarged view.
The color and exuberance of Amsterdam was a sharp
contrast from Moscow.
About three hours after taking off from Moscow, our plane landed in
Amsterdam. I was in a satisfied mood as I exited the plane and headed
after my luggage. My adventure was drawing to a close, and maybe I was
feeling a bit like some sort of modern day conquerer. The doubts,
anxieties, and apprehensions, many fueled
by the naysayers back home, had been vanquished. I was returning
victorious.
I had gone to Russia and survived; I found ATM machines, good
restaurants,
authentic hockey jerseys, and rode the famous Moscow Metro from one end
to the other, without being able to pronounce the name of a single
station.
Genghis Khan may have covered more ground than I, but I'll bet the farm
he
couldn't have navigated Russia's immensley complicated bureaucracy of
visas,
passport checks and ever changing exchange rates with the flare that I
did.
After grabbing my bag I headed to the KLM help desk to locate a nearby
hotel
before heading out to explore a little of Amsterdam. The Citadel was
located
just a short walk from the last stop on the train in the heart of
Amsterdam.
Perfect.
Armed with a map and a reservation number I headed down to the train
platform.
When the train arrived I was surprised to see it was a double-decker,
with
another floor of seats on top. I headed for these to enjoy the view as
the
train made its way from the airport into town. I was immediately
impressed
with the sleek, modern design of the train, and how quiet it was. After
weeks
in Moscow riding the incredibly noisy and stifling metro, this ride was
one
of luxury.
And the people! The people on the streets were so friendly that I found
myself
asking beautiful women for directions, even though I knew exactly where I
was
going, just so I could talk to them. "Excuse me, Miss? Do you happen
to know
where The Citadel is?"
"Yes, of course, there it is right in front of you, across the street.
Are you enjoying Amsterdam?"
"Oh, yes, thank you very much." And then I'd just look down the
street
for someone else to chat with.
Architecture reminiscent of St. Petersburg.
I went up to my room and immediately turned on the shower. Hot water! We
didn't have any hot water the whole last week I was in Moscow, owing to
the traditional
yearly scheduled maintenance. I was really going to enjoy this.
After cleaning up I headed out to find dinner. What a beautiful city!
Amsterdam
is clean and bright, with tourists and natives out everywhere. The small
alley way/streets don't feel cramped at all, but give you plenty of room
to peek into pubs and shops, and check out the menus outside of
restaurants.
I wandered around a bit just taking in the sights, traded some money, and
picked out a barbecue place with a nice window view of the street.
I was a bit apprehensive about ordering barbecue in an unfamiliar land,
but
was in a great mood so I thought I could risk it. I couldn't have made a
better
choice; the food was great.
I also usually like to read when I eat, so I asked the waitress if they
had
an english language newspaper anywhere around. She said they didn't, but
told me she had her own english copy of Hitchhiker's Guide to the
Galaxy, one of my favorite books. So I sat there for about an hour,
reading and having dinner.
After some of the best barbecue I've ever had anywhere, I wandered the
streets
and sidewalks around my hotel. I didn't have to go very far at all to
find
some really terrific pubs. I shot pool and played foosball with a few
locals,
had some wine outside a little place and talked about my travels with a
couple of Americans from San Diego, and generally just breathed in the
charming
atmosphere of Amsterdam.
I have to admit, though I have permenantly been instilled with a love
for Russia, this place was a welcome relief from the oppresive gloom and
dinge that blankets so much of Moscow. Of course, there are the bright
spots
that make a trip to Russia a wonderful experience. Sharing dinner
at someone's home and comparing our lives, the fabulous museums with some
of the word's greatest art, and history that surrounds you always, these
things make a trip to Russia an experience that will affect you
dramatically,
and one you'll remember all your life. But the current situations tend to
weigh heavily at times, even as a tourist, and the day to day
difficulties can be
frustrating.
One night was not enough time in this beautiful city.
I ended up staying out quite late, going from pub to pub, and meeting a
lot
of really interesting people. Too late, as a matter of fact. The next
morning
I woke with a start exactly forty five minutes before my plane was
scheduled
to take off. I have no idea what happened to my wake up call.
I took the fastest shower of my life, crammed everything back into my bag
creating a bulging mess, and literally ran down the street to the train
station.
The next train was not coming in for twenty minutes, so I ran back out to
the
taxi stand and jumped across a man's legs as he was climbing out of a
cab.
I implored the driver to do everything his conscience would allow to get
me
to the airport, and apparently the man had a very liberal conscience. He
drove like a maniac.
I gave him twice the amount of the ride; he thanked me, and I sprinted
into
the terminal. After checking in and doing all the other relevent stuff, I
boarded the plane, the very last passenger to do so. I had just made it.
Maybe another evening in Amsterdam would have been fun, but I think
missing
a plane and buying a one way ticket to Atlanta would have spoiled the
extra time.
It's a long way back across the Atlantic Ocean, so I had a lot of time to
reflect on my experiences. I thought to myself, "Where did all
the time go? Is the trip really over already?" I had this strange
feeling that everything had happened so fast, that maybe it didn't really
happen at all. But there were too many memories and strong impressions
in my mind for it to have been a dream; I still had the dirt of Moscow
on my sneakers, the mud from St. Petersburg, and I liked it. Being a bit
of
a souvenir buff, and preferring the unusual, I swiped at the grime on my
sneakers and wondered if I should hang them by their laces in a special
place somewhere in my apartment. Maybe with a sign that said, "Walked
down Nevsky Prospekt in these." Well, even I'm not that sentimental.
There was plenty to be sentimental about, though. I had left Atlanta
almost a month before, full of apprehension and, I don't mind admitting,
fear.
I had left home alone, but now returning, I felt as though the whole of a
country
was returning with me.
When the plane landed in Atlanta I had an almost continual smile on my
face as I made my way through customs, the airport, and then onto the
train
heading for my neighborhood in Midtown. I walked up my street from the
station,
past Piedmont Park, said hello to a few passing neighbors, and arrived at
my
apartment.
My dog began barking uncontrollably and rolling around at my feet when I
came
in the door; it was great to see him again. I immediately dropped my bags
and grabbed his leash and together, as we do almost every day, we headed
over
to the park. Friends were already there and welcomed me back with smiles
and
questions about my trip. I was home; and it felt really good.
My city
had never looked quite so beautiful, but as I gazed across the park at
the
beautiful Midtown skyline the world was truly a much smaller place to me.
The short distances between our hearts had made insignificant the
long journeys of airplanes, and just over that next hill, there in
Piedmont
Park, lies my new beautiful city and country, Moscow, Russia.
