Get Lost, Got Lost

It's wednesday. For a moment the days were difficult to recollect, but now i am certain it is Wednesday. Exhaustion keeps me still as I ride the Thalys train from Amsterdam to Paris, wondering what the next city will serve up as an offering for this soon to be 30 year old.








Amsterdam was strongly overpowering in the first 24 hours, spinning my head like coin on counter. Two halves of opposite paradise join amsterdam together in strides towards an accepting world. A city where love and lust stroll through a park holding hands, settling any quarrel with a shot of absinthe and a puff of plant.


















Beautiful organic textures line the streets and buildings in this fairytale city. Wood, stone, and brick serve as sturdy reminders of years passed, as treelined canals comfortably flow through many of the neighborhood walkways.









Bicycles whiz by in rapid succession, creating the need to constantly peer over your shoulder before making any change in direction or stride.








We trekked the city thoroughly each day, exploring alleyways and window displays, parks and recreation, and embraced the relaxed lifestyle of an ever-flowing canal culture.

We rested our packs and our eyes at the petite Hotel Hegra. A cozy establishment with narrow red carpeted stairwells, leading us two flights up to room four, where the large double windows opened to a view of the canal.








Private shower, shared toilet, snug room, yet clean and quiet. An amazingly serene neighborhood a few blocks west of the action packed Dam Square.








Hegra on Herengracht street was advantageously equidistant from most of the major attractions, lending ease to our stomping sessions around the city.









Hidden gems of street art disperse throughout the nooks and crannies, with sly passageways leading to both beauty and indulgence.









The food was delectable wherever we settled each day.








Pancakes are a must, with their thin dough and variety of toppings.

Five days in, with shins splitting and feet aching we found ourselves packing it back to central station to catch our train to Paris.








With newly developed super senses, we had grown accustomed to sidestepping bikes, trollies, cars, and newly arriving tourists.








There was a special flow in Amsterdam, a unique slow paced enjoyment of life, these things are sometimes forgotten in the hustle bustle reality that grips us all. It was good to remember. It was great to forget.

-ScoJo

Location:Amsterdam