After the trip to Barcelona, I really had reached the point at which I could procrastinate no further. I spent the following two weeks catching up on my studies and furiously writing papers before my sister was to arrive in Madrid for a week-long visit. While I didn't have everything completely finished before she arrived, I did have the majority done and I was able to offer her a fairly decent view of my life in Madrid, although it would have been nice to have had a bit more free time and a weekend to travel. We were able to have dinner with Olechka and Julie, and towards the end of the week went out a few times with Emma and her friends who were visiting from Madison, as well as some of the Madrid folks. After such a long year away from my sis, it sure was nice to spend some quality time together on the other side of the Atlantic, even if it was a very tiring week for me, doing all the sightseeing and going out with my sister while still attending classes, teaching English, and finishing up papers for the semester. Emma's friends, Michael and Chris were great company, and we were even able to have one of the typical potluck dinners in our apartment.
I would have liked to have taken Amy to visit Toledo, but her first full weekend in Madrid fell just before my finals, so after a very busy week of Flamenco shows, tapas, bullfights, walks through the park, and everything else under the sun, the last few days of her stay were a little less exciting for her, but it was nice just to have her company. I think I actually managed to wear her out when she told me she preferred to stay in on Friday night after I would already be gone for my end of the year dinner with my study abroad group. The dinner was really fun, and a great way to cap everything off by getting dressed up and dining on the best paella I had ever tasted. After way too much food and a bit too much wine in everyone’s stomachs, the group divided up and before long I was at one of the bars, Chapandaz, which we frequented at the beginning of year, seemingly bringing the year full circle. We all knew it would be one of the last times we would all be out in Madrid, and probably the last time so many of us would be together at the same time like we were that night. Olechka even surprised me by showing up after I had hardly seen her the whole week being so busy with my sister and school. That night I figured out that we had too much of a spark between us to let the quickly approaching end of the year be a reason for holding back. I realized that night that I had never met anyone like her in my life. She is a truly unique person, and I realized I would be stupid to keep plodding along with her pretending to be just slightly more than friends when we both knew there was way more to it than that.
After my sister left Madrid, a mostly sleepless week began, as I attempted to make up for my lack of studies during the semester and pull off some miracle grades through shear grit and some hard core cramming. In the end, all of my exams went pretty well.
The brutal week spent in the library was followed nicely by a weekend trip to Amsterdam to meet up with my Madison friends, Jen, Mandy, and Tiffany, as they had been traveling through Europe during the prior weeks. After catching a few trains from the tiny airport in the middle of nowhere Belgium (20 Euro plane ticket), I arrived at our hotel in Amsterdam to be greeted by the smiles of three lovely ladies waiting for me outside. The hotel made a mistake on our reservation and actually gave us a free upgrade to a fabulous apartment just a few blocks away. Amsterdam was an unbelievable place, and honestly exceeded my expectations in nearly every way. First, it is stunningly beautiful, with its old canals and elegant buildings creating an ambiance that seemingly created a mixture of Freiburg and Venice. The people were so friendly as well, and everyone rode bikes. Everyone. It made me sad to realize just how doable that would be in nearly any city in America if people just made the switch. There were bike lanes (marked or just known to exist) on every street and even special stoplights for bikers on the major streets. The busy mix of foot, bike, and automobile traffic moved along with remarkable efficiency, as everyone was alert and understanding of the need to share the road with everyone. Instead of loud engines polluting my ears, we walked along the canals to a symphony of harmonious bicycle bells.
Glad to be back in the company of such great friends, we spent our three days in Amsterdam sampling the tasty sweets, visiting the spectacular Van Gogh museum, and the Vondelpark. We spent one day riding our bikes around the city, enjoying the perfect weather and doing some quality people watching. Everyone just seemed so happy to me, a result of low stress and a general attitude toward life that I think is required of everyone that lives in Amsterdam. When Mandy left a day before the rest of us to meet her family in Greece, the three of us rented bikes again and followed the river outside of the city, past beautiful parks and open fields, windmills and country cottages. It was a truly glorious day, and I couldn't help but be reminded of how Holland was portrayed in Band of Brothers during the American liberation. It was exactly the same. The people were the same, the countryside looked the same... it even smelled how I expected it to smell. Steven Spielberg didn't miss a single detail in that one-of-a kind miniseries. Eventually, we arrived at a small town called Ourderkerk a/d Amstel, where we had a tasty lunch and enjoyed the hospitality of a uniquely kind waitress that reminded me of someone I might meet in Duluth, Minnesota more than anyone I had met the entire year. She was a small sliver of the "Minnesota nice" I had come to miss in Madrid.
The following day, as the girls took an early afternoon train to Frankfurt to fly back to the States, I spent a few more hours taking in some of the places we had not reached the previous few days. This included the eastern limits of the city as well as the famous red-light district. To preserve its mystique, I'll just say I'd never seen anything like it and leave it at that...
As the afternoon rolled on, I decided to continue my journey on to Brussels, where I still needed to find a place to spend the night before a day of sightseeing and a late afternoon flight back to Madrid. The train was relaxing as always, and before long I arrived alone in yet another new city. Taking my time to stroll through the central squares, which were magnificently surrounded by beautiful architecture, I kept my eye out for hostels where I could find a bed for the night. Without any luck, and without thinking much of it, I continued to wander through the city, taking in the sites, and with many hours of daylight left, not too worried about finding a place to stay that night. I was more content with getting my bearings and traversing as much pavement that day to take advantage of my limited time there. After hours of walking around nearly every corner of the city, I soon realized that hostels simply did not exist in Brussels. This was confirmed by two other weary looking backpackers I met looking quite discouraged as they sat under a large tree. They hadn't found a single hostel in hours either and every hotel seemed to be booked up, according to them. This turned out to be false. There were hotels, but nothing under 60 euros for the night, and being alone I just couldn't justify paying such a price.
In the end, I made the decision just to ride out the night on the streets, which turned out to be quite the new experience. With nothing else to do, and the faint hope of finding someplace to stay ever-present in my mind, I continued my marathon trek to every corner of the city, mostly just to kill time. With weary legs and a sore back from carrying my things all day, I spent a few tranquil hours in a quiet bar, burying myself into some ancient history of Spain, and occasionally nodding off to catch a few moments of shuteye. When the bar closed, I remembered a hotel I had visited earlier in the day that was close by. Without a reception desk, and holding only 6 rooms, I had also found that the door to the building remained open during the day, and it turned out to remain that way at night. Waiting until about thirty minutes after the bars closed to assure the majority of people would be in their rooms for the night, I quietly snuck in and ascended the narrow, winding staircase to the third floor, where, I unrolled my sleeping bag into the small space between the two hotel room doors, and managed to uncomfortably fall into a light slumber for about two hours. This, however, was abruptly interrupted by the "alarm system" I had for myself, which consisted of a lone, timer operated light switch on the bottom floor which turned on every light in the small building up to the third floor. When the light turned on, and the downstairs door closed, I jolted awake, and as I quickly rolled and stuffed by sleeping bag into by backpack and gathered my things, was just hoping whoever had entered had a room below the third floor. Unfortunately, he did not, and just as I had managed to corral everything into my backpack and fling it over my shoulder, I met the gaze of a very startled and confused man, whose existence I didn't bother to acknowledge as I quickly escaped past him before he had time to ask me any questions...
Glad for having managed a few hours of sleep, but a bit perturbed by my horrible luck, I found myself again on the streets at about four in the morning. The people you find to be awake and outside at that hour are quite interesting, I must say... In the end, I found my way to what must have been the Turkish ghetto of Brussels, where I found a string of kebab shops open serving the all-night crowd, where I sat until the coming of the new day. It was quite a night...
I finally started getting really tired about seven that morning, and allowed myself a few cups of coffee and an English newspaper to put myself in a better mood. I actually did manage to see a number of interesting places that day as well, including the beautiful cathedral where I met a Dutch historian that gave me a very long winded explanation of nearly every aspect of the cathedral's history. (I remember very, very little). I took a nap in one of the city's beautiful parks, climbed to the highest point to enjoy the view over the city, and by mid afternoon was quite content to catch an early bus to the airport. I had had quite enough of Brussels and was ready for a hot shower in Madrid. Despite a slightly rough last day, the trip was spectacular.
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