What's fun?

Me and Vincent.

I was not well-liked in college. I was not actively disliked either. If anything, I was invisible. I had few friends, kept my head down, all my energies went into my schoolwork. The truth is that I had trouble identifying with the people I went to school with. I thought college was going to be about meeting like-minded intellectuals, people who I would sit with in cafes for hours drinking coffee and talking about art and politics. Instead, the people I met had no interest talking about such things. They all had bored-sounding voices and said things like, "Maaaannnnn, I got so wasted last night."

Such a bored voice came from one of my roommates last night. "You're going to bed already?" The tone was filled with disapproval, and it made me shrivel back ten years to my 19-year-old insecure college self. This girl, a college student from Connecticut, was probably no older than 21.

"Yeah," I said. "I am tired and I did a lot today." It was almost eleven.

"What did you do today?" she asked.

"Well, I went on a walking tour and then I went to the Anne Frank museum, and I don't know, just walked around a lot." My words were met with dumbfounded silence.

"My friends are arriving tonight. Probably after midnight," she said, inspecting her nails. "They're going to want to go crazy tonight."

"Oh, that’s cool," I answered, lamely.

"Do you like traveling all by yourself?" she asked, "I would never be able to do that."

"Yeah," I answered and explained the reasons why. She nodded absently making me feel like I was speaking utter nonsense.

I think there is a reason why I have made no friends in Amsterdam. At breakfast, all these kids want to talk about how messed up they got the night before, and I am sucked back into time to my lonely college days where I always felt like I had to act like that was so cool, and then defend why I wasn't playing a part. No one understood me. It was tiring. I think that is why I studied so much, just so I could get away from these people and have something that made me feel good about myself.

When I think about myself in college, so serious with a nose in a book, I sometimes wonder what I would do if I could do it all over again.

But talking to this girl and mingling with these co-eds made me realize: I would do it all over again exactly the same. Because I didn't mix well with 19-year-olds when I was one, and now, 10 years later, I don't mix well with them either. I am the same person.

While this girl triggered the same insecurities I used to have when I was younger, it's different now. Before, I used to beat myself up about it. Now, I can look at her and think, "you're really not that interesting to me."

It's kind of like this conversation I had with my friend Megan, one of the fun-pigs. She likes to get her drink on and would often invite me out for drinks with her on Wednesdays, but I liked to go to yoga on Wednesdays. I always said no thanks and she would give me a hard time about it but then one day she said, "Everyone has their own definition of fun. Mine is going out for a drink, and yours is yoga." I wish someone would have said that to me in college. It would have saved me a lot of grief.

So I was the first into bed last night, the first to rise this morning. And I did things today I think are fun. Going to the Van Gogh museum. Reading magazines in a book store. Window shopping down the narrow alleyways of Amsterdam. Found and ate a cake that I liked. I planned to go bike-riding but the rain discouraged me. When I saw the girl again today, she having her entire day in coffee shops with her crazy friends, it was easy to shrug my shoulders and think, "you have your fun, I have mine," feeling like the 29-year-old woman I am.

My kind of fun: Window shopping. Who doesn't want a snow doll?

Sex, drugs and ham

Boob touching.

Most people come to Amsterdam to party. The place where pot, magic mushrooms and prostitution are legal, it might be strange that someone like me would end up here. I always thought Amsterdam looked pretty in pictures. And I have always wanted to go to the Anne Frank house and the Van Gogh museum. I thought that the whole pot thing was sort of on the down low, kind of like "We're Euro and are cool so we legalize pot."

I was wrong. Coming here was kind of like walking into a frat party. Arriving at my hostel, I was greeted by the sweet aroma of marijuana as soon as I opened the front door. All the people staying there look and talk like they are 18 years old. There are a few that look older but that is only only because of their scruffy beards that go with their Phish t-shirts. Walking around the city, I was bombarded by "coffee shops" and at first, it was kind exciting seeing people smoking out in the open. But after ten minutes of walking by a multitude of Bob Marley posters, hemp leaves in the window and souvenir shops selling drug-related merchandise, I was already bored with it.

I am in Amsterdam and there is a part of me that says, I am here, I should take advantage of some of the debauchery that the city has to offer. But there is nothing appealing about going to a coffee shop or a sex show (yes, you can watch people have sex here on stage) alone and thinking wow, this is not really that fun alone. I walked by the Red Light District and seeing the skimpily dressed women--ranging from pretty to very ugly--in the windows kind of depressed me. (I learned on my guided tour of the city that the women rent a window for 150 euros for an 8-hour shift and that they usually receive about 50 euros for each 10-15 minute encounter). One of the girls saw me looking at her and knocked on the window for me. I scurried away.

I decided I would keep an open mind about it. If I meet some friends and the opportunity presents itself, then maybe I will participate--in pot smoking, not prostitution! (And yes, my mom is reading this. Hi Mom!) So far the opportunity has not presented itself (the girl sitting next to me at breakfast had her nose in a book, and the people I met on my tour around the city all had bad teeth. I do not want to have any kind of debauchery with people with bad teeth.) To be honest, I am not terribly disappointed. And on my tour, I found out that less than 10% of the people who live here actually participate (it's all for the tourists) so I am having a more authentic local experience. (Besides the fact I spent all day on a guided city tour and at the Anne Frank house).

When you get away from all that, Amsterdam is actually a very nice place. Just like the pictures, the town is quite quaint with its narrow buildings and canals and everyone riding around on their clunky old bikes. There are so many cool places to shop with unique clothes and trinkets and so many art galleries with paintings that make you stop in your tracks (and almost get run over by a bike--dodging them is a major activity around here). And even though I do not engage in pot-smoking or prostitution myself, I appreciate the liberal atmosphere around here and don't mind that others do. If anything, I am wondering why they are not legal anywhere else.

I must say that the sweets situation is not good here. First, the coffee houses here have other priorities than cake. The bakeries I have seen have thick and old looking pastries that make me feel sorry for them. Even I don't want to go there. I did have "the original" New York City pizza. Somehow it did not taste anything like the pizza I have had at home.


Those aren't your average houseplants.


The Red Light District.


The rest of Amsterdam looks like this.