Amsterdam

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I met Kevin halfway through one of his very long business trips in Amsterdam. I flew into a very, very large airport. I’m a way inexperienced traveler and I wasn’t looking forward to navigating that monster alone. Luckily, Kevin got up ‘crack of dawn’ early and met me at the gate.

 After he poured a cup of coffee into me, my first coherent statement was “How long have I been on that plane? It was Thanksgiving when I left home and now all I see are Christmas decorations.” Kevin looked at me strangely and said “They don’t actually celebrate Thanksgiving here, Rachel.” And sure, in hindsight, it’s obvious that Europe would not celebrate the first harvest feast of American Indians and Pilgrims but I can’t see how it’s possible to make it through the year without having cornbread dressing to look forward to.

So clearly, I am a kinda idiot tourist. I don’t even try to act otherwise. But at one point, we were standing in the middle of Amsterdam in a very busy area full of people when another tourist singles me out and asks “Do you know where the red light district is?” Look. If you stop me in the grocery store and ask me where the Windex is, I can probably hook you up but that’s about the extent of my directional capabilities. Andthere is no way that tourist could not have known that about me but…of all the freaks standing in that square, I feel like a chubby southern housewife was about the least likely person to be able to help with her question.