Amsterdam II

Sorry this took so long..

So, after lunch, we decided we wanted to see the Van Gogh museum, and then the Rijksmuseum. We went up to a counter at the tourism office, paid for 2 tickets, and left. Then we went to Starbucks. I hate coffee (because it just keeps my tummy in distress), but another friend of mine had told me that if I ever got the chance, I should try a pumpkin spiced latte. There’s no Starbucks in my town (apparently we’re not worth their time), so I decided to go try this one. It tasted awesome, but it still distressed my tummy, so I couldn’t finish it. Oh and I read something about coffee when I got back home, apparently there’s no pumpkin whatsoever in Starbuck’s PSL. Oh well…

We were going to take the bus/tram to the museum(s), but first we wanted to walk around the center for a bit. In wandering about, we found a sex museum (not like it was hard to find). This was fun, we thought, and it would be open until 23:00, they said. We thought we should visit after Van Gogh and the Rijksmuseum since there wouldn’t be time after those to see the Red Light District(s?), so we promised to come back afterwards. We hopped on a tram and headed for the museum, and thankfully, since we bought our tickets elsewhere, we didn’t have to wait in line very long. When we got to the front of the line though, the guy at the counter took our tickets, looked at them and told us one of them was for “100 canals around Amsterdam”. Huh? I looked, and it was. Apparently the sales girl (who smiled oh so sweetly at us) had given us one Van Gogh ticket and one Canal ride ticket, both for the same prices. It was probably an honest mistake, but I was livid. And it was rush hour, so getting back to the city center took quite some time. When we got there though, the tourism office was closed. The hell? I was confused, and angry. Luckily, someone told us the company that sold us the tickets had another stand about 200m away, down by one of the canals, so off we went. The girl there was pleasant enough, but she asked a lot of unnecessary questions…”where did you say you bought this ticket?” “do you have a receipt?” Does it matter where I bought it or if I have a receipt? The important thing is that it obviously hasn’t been used and I want to exchange it for something else. Oh what, you think someone dropped their ticket and I picked it to exchange for something else? Don’t be stupid, please. Okay, okay, I was overreacting, but I was really pissed. And of course I didn’t say any of those out loud, I don’t like to be so obviously rude. Anyway, I resolved to write to customer service the very next day. LoL. I didnt haven’t. All of that frackas took about 1 hour or more, so all we had time for was the Van Gogh museum. No Rijksmuseum, no Madame Tussauds (yes, we have Madame Tussauds in NL too :D). Only canals and Van Gogh. Oh but I took some lovely pictures of his art. I also took a picture with a real life imitation of Madame Tussaud, beside a wax figure of Van Gogh, so yay me!

Next stop: Sex museum. At this time it was about 45 minutes before the last train to my city left, so I had to make it quick. 4 Eur and I was in. Hmm. I have been called naive many times before, but let me just state here that if the intention of the sex museum was to shock and/or educate me, it did that. I learnt about how the tango was born. And that there is someone whose (nick?)name is Long Dong Silver. And that ‘debauchery’ has been going on for centuries (okay, I sorta knew that, but this just served as proof). And…well, other things. It was well worth the time though. Well, we got back on the train, and I had to pee. Now I never use public toilets as a rule, but I was looking at 1.5 hours of travel time ahead, so I decided to go use the train toilets before the train started moving (so my butt won’t accidentally actually touch the toilet seat). My days. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a smaller, more filthy toilet. *Shudder*

We got back to my city in good shape, so yay, that was a day well spent. As I got off the train, I saw 2 classmates who got off the same train, and they explained that they lost one of their friends at the station where we had to switch trains. He had forgotten his jacket on the train and when he dashed back in to retrieve it, the train doors shut and it moved on. Problem was, this person talking to me had this poor guy’s backpack, and the poor guy’s phone was dead, and this was the last train. All he had was his jacket. Sigh.*

And that’s the end of my tale about Amsterdam. I plan to go back though, with a saner crowd, and to do more stuff 😉

 

*I heard, later, that he slept at his ex’s house in another town 35 minutes away. Lucky he knew someone there who had a good enough heart to open up the door for him, else he’d have had to sleep at the train station.

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