Week 5, Entry 2

This weekend I went to Amsterdam. To be honest, all I was thinking about when booking my trip there was the fact that it was a big, fun party city and I was sure to have a blast. I didn't really think about what Amsterdam might look like or where it even was. Before I left for the trip, I had to use Google Earth to look up exactly where Amsterdam was. It wasn't until I actually arrived at the airport that I realized Amsterdam is actually in Holland, or The Netherlands (which apparently are the same thing.) My embarrassing lack of knowledge about Amsterdam (apparently they speak Dutch there, who knew!) was soon put to rest after I had been in the city for about two hours.

When first looking at the street signs in an attempt to find our hostel, I noticed that the Dutch language looks like a series of anagrams, as if someone accidentally sat on a keyboard. I began to get nervous, because unlike French, Dutch is absolutely and completely foreign to me in every way. I had never seen the Dutch language spelled out before this trip. I was staring to think I had gotten in over my head when once again it became apparent that everyone in Amsterdam also spoke English. Although Amsterdam has been the most foreign place I've been to when it comes to culture and language, the city still contained at least five McDonald's restaurants and advertisements were mostly written in English. I found this incredibly strange, but Amsterdam had enough foreign aspects to keep my attention occupied.

First of all, the roads in Amsterdam are quite chaotic and confusing. There is a separate lane for bikes, and then there is a lane for cars and a lane with inset rails for the tram. All of these vehicles come barreling down the street at the same time, and at many moments I felt panic rising up in me when I wasn't sure if I was in the middle of the street or on a sidewalk. These vehicles often cross paths as well, with cars driving on the tram rails, bikers in the car lane and buses on the tram lane. The trams manage to stay on the rails, but their frequency of arrival is still confusing.

Staying in the Red Light District was also a very uniquely foreign experience that I won't forget anytime soon. Walking through that area reminded me of the psycho-geography poems we discussed in class. My senses were simply assaulted from all over. At night, the neon signs burned brightly, advertising sex shows and porn shops. We walked by brothels with red lights shining through the windows and prostitutes displaying themselves for the passers-by. I had never in my life before this trip seen a prostitute, and even now I have a hard time believing what I saw. Amsterdam was so full of life, noise and illusions that it was hard to decipher if I was experiencing the real thing, or just a hazy interpretation of the Amsterdam experience.