The chronicles of Netherland
Posted on Monday, June 29th, 2009 at 9:02 am
Maastricht. Here I am. I missed a night of sleep because on the flight to London they make the plane dark when you get on at 6 p.m., and then draw up the blinds to serve breakfast at 12 a.m. In London, it’s morning. Rise and shine.
Heathrow airport was hell. Full of signs that seem like they must be meant to throw you off. A practical joke that’s not funny to any traveller. I almost missed my connecting flight to Amsterdam after waiting in an unnecessary line, pinched through the gate, and still had to ride on a shuttle to get me to the airport. Heathrow is ridiculously huge and complicated.
Crashed for an hour and woke up in Amsterdam. Luggage went missing, which was expected considering I almost didn’t make the flight, but I kept my head high and got on a train.
I love trains. I can justifiably space out, not have to worry about what direction I’m going or getting into an accident. I know I’m going somewhere, but someone else is in charge.
Three hours later, I’m off the train and running towards Ruth, my friend living in Maastricht. We crack a joke and just like riding a bike, we’re speaking that old language we developed living together in university. Ruth’s in Maastricht working for the European Journalism Centre, living with her boyfriend who’s doing his masters in European studies at the University. We tell each other we look the same.
We walk out onto cobble stone streets. Every sign looks like it’s for Ikea. Helvetica and simple pictures. There’s shops and restaurants littering the streets. Expensive ones. It’s a huge boutique town. There’s a big river that seperates the city, and we walk over the bridge. I joke it’s the brooklyn bridge, and point to one beside it that must be the Manhattan.
We pass pastry shops, shoe shops, cafes. People are everywhere, basking in the heat. Enjoying a smoke or a beer. Chimes are going off. It’s a religious town with lots of older, rich people. The preserved jewel of the Netherlands.
We get to Ruth’s apartment ontop of two cafes. It’s adorable. Simple. Ikea-like. White and reds. She has big windows sun pours into and it’s humid as hell.
Ruth’s back to work, and I’m trying to track my luggage. In a couple hours, we’ll meet for wine. For now, I need some sleep.
