Roxanne didn't haffta put the red light on, she wanted to...

What if you like to learn about history. But you also like art. But you also just love to walk around and bask in natural beauty. And what if you like those things but aren’t have a little devil in you too and love a good round of trouble-making?

Oh, and cheese? Do you love that too?

You go to Amsterdam.

Hop on whatever vehicle you have available to you and get there. Paddle oars, flap wings, mush dogs. Do it.

Oh, and bring a jacket.

Oh, and bring a lighter.

Because it’s got whatever you want. It’s like Willy Wonka’s factory for culture and vices. I hate to compare it to Vegas because Vegas is cheap and artificial. But, like Vegas, Amsterdam provides you with a buffet of options for premium debauchery. Unlike Vegas, however, it is neither trashy nor artificial. Maybe its how clean it is. Or how people respect each other enough not to be (too) foolish and obnoxious. Or that with the freedom and openness of the culture comes a level of understanding and acceptance. Whatever it is, that city is an incredible experience. From Rembrandt to red lights, captivating.

The first moments of Amsterdam were less than amazing. They were soggy, actually. And stressful. I arrived during rush hour. Which also happened to be flood hour. Have you ever tried to figure out public transit systems during a stampede of giant and waterlogged (albet beautiful) Dutch folk? You might cry. I didn’t, because I’m incredibly stoic and cool-like-cucumbers but lesser people may have.  After an hour of swimming in circles of confusion and rainwater, I figured out where the  tram was which would drop me off right in front of my hostel. Correction: I figured out where the tram that was supposed to drop me off right in front of my hostel was. The hostel was a shy, sneaky, little fella that hid between to other buildings on a pedestrian only street so I missed it even though I walked by it approximetly 2, 543 times. That’s a lot of times. Its enough times to get you good and drenched if you happen to be wandering in the rain. Luckily a very sweet café owner pulled me inside and offered me both directions and a corner to wring myself dry in for a while until it stopped raining. People are nice. I’m learning this. They are just so so nice.

Also had some minor issues with boarding in Amsterdam. Apparently it was some sort of festival weekend (what weekend isn’t a party in this town, though?) So I could only find a bed for a night. This wasn’t going to work. Other things that weren’t working: my money card. And also: my throat. These were problems. Kind of significant but fixable. So what do we do? We go out! We go out to the city center and get caught up in hazyhazy Coffeeshops that don’t have coffee. And alleys rimmed in red. And canals of black water reflecting strings of white lights. And you feel better (and that isn’t because of the ‘coffee,’ you just do).  But because you can’t help but have fun. Even as a spectator. Fun. Everywhere is fun.

So I kind of figured out my problems. Enough to give me another day, which was enough. I simply moved to a new home a block down the street, called my mom in a panic, called the cashcard lady in a panic, became un-panicked, and took a Dayquil. Somuchbetter. Time for some Van Gough, you know?

Van Gough Museum: pretttttttty amazing. Why? Why are you even asking?

a)    It’s Van Gough, guys, nuff said.

b)   It’s also an exhibit that follows the progression of his art from his first scribbles to his final pieces done as he lost sanity and hope. It also includes excerpts and insights from letters between him and his brother, Theo.

c)    Its also contains works by people who influence him and those who he influenced later—the range of which is so great and varied—they have everything from drawings to Japanese prints to comic books.

d)   It also had an exhibit downstairs on photography and painters who used photography during the turn of the century. Really incredible stuff.

Favorites round-up time!

Van Gogh:

 

"Avenue of Poplars in Autumn"

"Parisian Novels"

"Almond Blossom"

"Wild Roses"

"Emperor Moth"

 Other Artists:

Henri Rivière "Funeral Under Umbrellas"

Caillebotte "View from a Balcony"

And also, Redon's "Figure Under a Blossoming Tree," which I can't seem to find a copy of...but Redon is one of my favorites of all time. ever.

After the museum I took a stroll (and by stroll, I mean I walked to crap out of that city. Walked it good and great.) and saw a lot of the more historical areas: The Anne Frank House (which I had originally planned on going into but found it was sold out for three days. Poo.), Vondelpark, The Jordaan District Etc. And I realized a couple of things about The Netherlands:

1)   This is where beautiful people come to live. Its like they’re all stashed up here in the freezingdamncold so as to keep themselves preserved and gorgeous. And its working. Men and women. Children. Beauty.

2)   This is also where bikes come to live. I think perhaps it’s the bicycles’ Mecca land. Like barnacles to a ship, bicycles cling to whatever they can here—posts, fences, racks, cars, shops, each other. Piles and loads and docks full of bikes. Watch out though…they can and will run you over. Wily little critters, Dutch bikes. 

3)   They have some damn good style. Buildings, landscapes, art, design—its all so very clean. Intricate at times as seen in some of the architecture, but never overwhelming. I don’t know if its just because Autumn has arrived—but the lighting is breathtaking as well. It's consistently golden--never glaring or too bright—kind of like its always early morning or late evening.

Other things that will blow your mind in Amsterdam: Flower Markets and Cheese Markets.

Placed next to each other (on purpose, I believe, as a genius strategy to balance the offensive odors of one with the beautiful aromas of the other) these shops will take your senses and show them a thing of two. Rows of roses. Rows of tulips. Rows of bulbs and bags and blooms and CHEESE!!!

 

 

 

Its too much, huh? But wait, there's more-- you get to test em out. Taste all them cheeses as much as you like.

And then maybe you get to come back later and act like it's your first time and do it again…yeah you can do that, too.

After a day of art and cheese and walkingwalkingwalking I might have been tired. But I got over it. Because when night comes in Amsterdam there is a whole ‘nother city to see. So you follow the lights. Here, red lights don’t mean stop. They mean go-do-whatever-you-want (it's ok!).

You want to have a carnival outside your government buildings? Its ok!

You want to sit around and smoke a joint in a bar? It's ok!

You want to pay for sex? It's ok!

You want to have a shop entirely committed to condoms? It's ok!

You want to pee on the street? It's not ok! But the city will provide you with something so that it's ok!

Smoke! Sex! Pee! Its all ok! More than ok—its encouraged. Just be safe and clean. Good boys and girls.

I met some friends in the red light district. Yeah, it’s a strange place to make friends—I’m just a lone girl, wandering through the alleys of prostitutes, window shopping, if you will, minding my own business, when I happen upon some Aussie travelers who had had enough of the red light district and naked women (I know, I didn’t think real men tired of such things either…I didn’t trust them at first because of this but came to realize they were good boys). It was one of their birthdays so we ended up celebrating in proper Amsterdam fashion: pubàcoffeeshopàclub, repeat, repeat, repeat. 

Around 3:30 am we decided enough was enough. We were tired, it was late/early and freezing-- it was time to go home. How do three adults get home in the middle of the night? They cruelly hire a rickshaw, driven by the tiniest of Italian women, to take them. Of course. Then they give her awful directions so she gets lost and has to huff them around for a good half hour. Then they tip her extraextra.

Since I couldn’t find or bargain my way into another room Saturday night, I had to make the most of my last day in the city, so, after 4 hours of sleep, I took off for The Rijksmuseum, which has got a incredibly impressive collection of Dutch art, mostly paintings, but some artifacts, silver and sculpture as well. The way that Dutch artists play with light is what makes their work so impressively unique. Although many of them tend to be darker in a general sense, the pieces usually have a glow to them—whether it’s a still life, portrait, or landscape, the lighting is what makes the piece and some of them, even the darkest, are burning with life and light.

Rijkmuseum Favorites:

Obviously there are a ton of Rembrandt's there, they are all beautiful. He is the master of that glow, its overwhelming. Here are the others:

Moreelse "The Beautiful Sheperdess"

Jan Davidsz "Festoon of Fruits and Flowers"

After the museum, I met up with the Aussiechums for a bit before deciding to hit the dusty trail (and by dusty trail, I mean gritty rail). Since I couldn’t find a place to stay in Amsterdam, I planned on heading to Brussels for the night and then shooting across to London first thing in the morning. Might even try to sneak a Belgian waffle in there. Good plan.

As this trip progresses, however, I think its becoming clear that my good plans rarely turn out.

Coming up next:

When all you want is London but all you’ve got is Brussles.

(Don't worry though, I made it here to London, see:)

Missing everyone, be home soon.

Xxox

-b

firenze frenzy

Are you ailing in the heart? Do you find yourself daydreaming about crumbling architecture, the hum of scooters and ray-ban-clad urbanites? A bout of Romesickness perhaps?




Fret not, dear friends, I have found a remedy! All you need to fix you right up is a dose of Essence of Florence (and three bottles of wine) taken daily. Yup. I'm basically Alexander Fleming just with girl-bits and no geeky bow tie. Have a try:

Mmmm, goes down easy huh? So much better than Dimetapp and gives you a lovely buzz. Think i'll be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for my pharmaceutical revelation? I'll start designing a display case for it now.

Let's be very real though, for just a second. Because this right here:

 

May have been one of the most beautiful sunsets i've ever had the pleasure of watching. Sat on the bridge for a good hour and watched the colors morph and fade. But just when you thought the sky was done dazzling, she turns around and smacks you with some nightbeauty:

Its okay, don't feel weird, I wasn't really able to speak for about ten minutes after seeing this either. Your voice will come back in a few.

But that's Florence for you: beauty abounding. You go expecting to stroll some of the most famous galleries and see art but then you realize that the city in itself is great art. And the people are just as great. Its smaller than Rome, obviously, so the people and atmosphere is a bit more down to earth. There are a lot of students which makes it fun; and there is a perfect balance of grime and art.

The people are just as nice, as well. A lot of tourists and natives mixed about. My hostelmates the first night were a quirky brother and sister from Australia en route to London for the Wall Street sit-in. They were replaced with an equally fun AustraliaBrit named Jono who was moving to the Florence to write and learn Italian and a 'eccentric' NoName boy from Florida who enlightened me about the mores of vampires. I think he was in Florence to study as well, but to be a Vampire, as he slept about 20 hours a day and spoke in varied accents. I didn't have the heart to tell him he was in the wrong country, he seemed fragile. Jono and I explored the city around the university a bit, ate too much, drank too much, and found some awesome light shows in the Piazza Della Signoria. Fine Italian fun.

I also met another native friend! Everyone, please say hello to Ervin:

Yeah, he's a sweetheart. I'm quite lucky to find these wonderful people with great scooters. He took me about to Michelangelo's Piazza above the city (where I took the night shot above) and out to a cute HoleInTheWall pizzeria with delicious pizza and wine. 

I was supposed to leave the next day but was just having too much fun so I stayed...two more days bahahahha (this seems to be a habit of mine?)  I went to Uffizi and The Accademia and was awed by both the famous and not so famous pieces (Grandma: you were right about David's disproportionate anatomy...disappointing indeed). What were my favorites? Oh, I'm so glad you asked, you're so great. I wasn't allowed to take photos, but here were my favs:

Botticelli, "Spring"

Vecchio, "Adam and Eve"

 Vecellio, "Flora"

Bartolini, "Fiducia in Dio"

The Uffizi also had this awesome exhibit on the bottom floor that showed the progression and development of the gallery from first conception to modern day (they are currently constructing a new addition to the gallery). It was amazing to see the first plans and drawings of the building and surrounding area, then to see paintings of the piazzas from hundreds of years ago because so little has changed. Besides people wearing those awful onion-shaped pants. Now they just wear atrocious pants of other various shapes. History and fashion coming full-circle here folks.

I met up with Ervin after the galleries and we went up to a great big park (Central Park, of course) and we strolled around, people watching and enjoying the fall (read: freezing) evening. Don't worry, the second half of my Romesickness remedy works really well for nippy nights as well. Wine warmth.

Fact: Old men playing bocce ball = cutest thing ever. Google it, I swear its true. Cuter than puppies in baskets.

All roads lead to happiness here. Pretty sweet route.

Another city and group of people I hated to leave. But it just keeps getting better so I was excited to see how my next stop would turn out. Still can't believe how generous and kind Fortune has been to me <3

Now, its on to the three V's: Vicenzia, Verona and Venice and more of my new favorite activity: Trainwaiting--

All my love xxox,
b

Arrived. May Never Leave.

Oh no. Oh boy. Look, I'm writing so that should reassure you that: A) I haven't crashed on a plane, train, vespa. B) I haven't gotten arrested for making any sort of scene (see: getting inebriated on plane, cursing in The Vatican/pantsing the pope...jaywalking). C) Above all-- I am Alive. But! I am going to apologize to most of you now because really...I might not come back. Maybe you thought to yourself "Brittany may never come back, she's gonna be in love (with: italy, france, a boy, a girl? a dog. All of these things.)" But then you chuckled, called yourself silly and convinced lied to yourself that I would definitely come back. Guys? I have to tell you. I'm in love. Maybe you thought Rome and Italy was romanticized? You thought wrong. Its not, its just naturally wonderful/vibrant/beautiful/heart-bursting-tummy-turning-charming. Just look, and go ahead and try not to sigh:

They don't do it justice. I have a great camera and really...I couldn't stop to take pictures half the time because I didn't want to miss what was next to me. I was supposed to leave today. Buuuuut that's not going to happen. I am staying here for another couple days at least. I still have two bottles of wine in my suitcase that are both weighing me down and screaming for attention. If someone else doesn't grab them...I may have to shut them up myself. I got off the train and was so excited that I was overcome with a strange and temporary bout of narcolepsy. So I slept. For ages. Like 12 hours worth of ages. Which is a long time when you're an insect. Or a jet-lagged traveler. So I woke up yesterday morning, bought my ticket to The Vatican. My grandma arranged a lunch date between myself and the Pope, I couldn't let either of them down. So I set off! I'm off! I'm in Rome! On the streets (street)! I made it two whole blocks before I got asked out 15 times and made a friend. Calm down everyone, he's not a serial killer or sleazy italian groper. He's Albanian. So if anything he'd be a sleazy Albanian groper. Erion, who at first I brushed off as a somewhat sleazy tourist attacker, actually turned out to be a big ball of fun on a scooter. I vaticaned and sistine chapeled and got my fill of some of the most spectacular and overwhelming art and learned some important lessons. For example, so many of the sculptures with Fig Undies were damaged...which leads me to conclude that when you are modest, you lose limbs. Which is relieving, I won't be a paraplegic anytime soon. Super.

Later, I met up with Erion again and spent the rest of the afternoon/evening/early morning zooming about on a scooter, seeing all the big stuff and then some smaller, local places. Ate gelato, saw Piazzas, vistas, fountains, peep holes. He even went out of his way to make sure I didn't get too homesick by taking me to a popular American hangout where a bunch of young people stumbled about and made fools out of themselves. One girl even puked all over her Abercrombie jeans. Aw.

We ended up getting pizza and a bottle of wine from a little pizzeria then going and sitting in a park outside The Coliseum. Mmmm authentic Italian pizza. Mmmm delicious wine. I was so stoked to be having my first Italian wine. So delicious. So perfectly sweet. So yum. I picked up the bottle to see what it was in case I needed a case of it...it was just so, so, ...spanish. bahahhahhahaha. Oh well, have plenty of time to taste all sorts of wine(s).

I am off now to meet up with my new friend and zoom about some more. Missing you all and will be back for more in a bit. Unless, of course I get into that wine...in which case I will try to avoid drunk blogging. I'm sure my mom(s) will be disappointed. All my love, b Peace <3