Once upon a time I went to Amsterdam

I thought about coming up with some sort of clever title for this post. But what the hell. Amsterdam. I went to Amsterdam. A simple truth. I can't be clever all the time, damn it. This will have to do!

Anyway.

I realize this short little intro makes it sound like I'm not very happy about this, which is wrong, as I am actually quite overjoyed, to the point of feeling very curse-everything-and-everyone about being home in Sweden again. I had such a great time! And that says a lot, considering that after this trip, I'm on pencillin, have my right foot wrapped up in a bandage, and have to walk on my toes because my heel is completely useless.

I'll get to that later. It's confusing to start at the end instead of the beginning, isn't it? So let's rewind this a little bit. Why did I go to Amsterdam in the first place?

Well, it so happens that my dear grandpa Kjell turned 75 on the 4^th of May, this Saturday, and his wife went a little crazy. She invited me, mum, dad, my dad's brother i.e. my uncle, his wife, and my younger cousin Sasha to celebrate with them in Amsterdam. And she paid for our tickets.

I suspect she might have robbed some random bank.

I don't mind.

I haven't been abroad in a while, so I turned into a perfectionist wreck as the trip was nearing. I wrote a checklist with a million things on, re-dyed my poor hair, tried on clothes until I felt like crying, and so on. I have no idea how I managed to look normal on the picture I took of my travel-outfit. Let me just say that under the surface, I was pretty much ready to lie down on the floor and breathe into a paper bag for a few hours. Not my proudest moment.

I was quite happy with my hair, at least. Even though I ended up wearing a wig because it was quite cold and windy, and I flipped. I was also quite excited about something else. Not Amsterdam itself, strangely enough, I was just really excited about getting my hands on something from Starbucks. Yes, you heard it right.

Starbucks. Fucking Starbucks. Of all things.

It may seem weird, but the only place in Stockholm where you can find a Starbucks, is at Arlanda airport. I can't explain why I've been so obsessed with the thought of visiting Starbucks, because I don't know myself. I'm weird that way. I have a strange fascination with food and things I don't see every day. We have Starbucks in Sweden, but only in Gothenburg and at Arlanda.

No way I'm going to Gothenburg, so I was unreasonably happy about going to the airport, which was a good thing, it turned out, since the beautiful frappucino in my hand calmed me down quite a bit. Okay, I'm extremely weird that way. It just looked so... movie milkshake-y! 

Truth be told, it wasn't as good as I'd expected it to be though. It was pretty tasteless. Just my luck. But it looked beautiful, and at least I can say that I've finally, finally been to Starbucks, victory.

Once on the plane, I must admit I started to panic a little again. I like flying, but I hate starting and landing. It feels like the whole plane is falling apart. Extremely scary. In between the scary parts, however, I think everyone who's ever been on a plane can say it's very worth it.

My lovely country. It's not cold all the time, proof right here!

Look at all the clouds you can't look at because they're not there.

When we flew over the sea and above the Netherlands, all I could think about was how organised the crop fields were. It was completely ridiculous. Sweden looks like a messy quilt made by a five year-old in comparison. Everything was neatly arranged in a rectangular pattern, with little streams dividing the fields. Just, wow.

Surviving the landing came next, followed by riding a taxi for around 45 minutes with my nose pressed against the window and Sasha looking at me like I was retarded. We dropped them off at their hotel, then off to the apartment we'd rented over the weekend. Oh, it was crazy.

Look. At. This. Place.

And yes, that's my family. My dear uncle was the only one who reacted when I said that I was about to snap a picture. The rest; completely ignored me while eating tapas and talking about the view.

The last hotel I stayed at had plastic sheets, one chair in the kitchen, we stayed there with another family of three, and I had to sleep in the same bed as my friend with her feet in my face. So I was kind of overjoyed coming to a place with fresh flowers in vases everywhere, lit candles and a fireplace, enormous windows with a beautiful view, and the best part was that the guy had squeezed in everything he possibly could in the kitchen. Juice, teas, ham and cheese, like a billion cans of cola zero, even artificial sweeteners. Or wait, that wasn't the best part.

There was a tap next to the normal tap in the sink that immediately produced boiling water so I could make tea without having to wait how do I even live with that it's too much fantastic-ness what are commas look at me losing track of everything.

This must be super boring to read, but I had to.

Like I said, from plastic sheets and feet in my face, to this. I'm allowed to brag.

After freaking out over the apartment, we didn't have much time left of the day, so we met up with the rest of the family to have dinner. We went to this insane place called Bazar, a restaurant in an old, gigantic synagog, with two floors and mosaic in the ceiling, which was at least 150 m from the floor. And I'm not kidding when I say the food covered the entire table. We couldn't talk because it was so loud in there, but “låt maten tysta mun” as we say here in Sweden. That was pretty much it for the first day!

My parents went with the rest of the family to their hotel for some drinks, while I went to the apartment and couldn't figure out how to open the door (neither could my parents, once they came home, so it took quite some time), so I ended up sitting in the stairwell, angrily eating apple pie from my doggybag. Then off to sleep.

I don't know why I'm telling you this, but hey, why not! I want to remember this trip, so might as well torture you, dear readers, and write it down. Now, this is getting very long, so no more torture for today!

I say that a lot, don't I? Hm. 

Have a quick picture of the result of my oh-no-it's-cold-my-outfit-won't-work-help-where-is-my-wig-and-knitted-beanie-freakout. Sigh. I'll have to recycle those twin buns with my Weasley-hair someday soon, without the freakout.

Oh, and about my foot, saving that for post no. 2, since it happened on day no. 2. Won't make a post for each day, but day two deserves a post on it's own, just saying.

Until next time, have a nice day and enjoy the sunlight, if you have some outside your window! Seriously get away from your computer. Just because I can't walk doesn't mean you can't. I'll limp my way over to Alex's place for a movie night later, but you, go outside and jump down a meadow or something, damn it. Okay? Good.

I'm off! Good day dear people (๑・ω-)～♥”