What I Did in Amsterdam
Let’s try something new.
This story of my first solo trip in Europe has been sitting in my drafts for quite some time. The trip itself was centered around attending an author reading by David Sedaris, so a first person diary style piece feels most appropriate for the retelling of this trip. I bought the ticket to the author reading months in advance, bleary-eyed in the middle of the night. I love his work deeply, so I stand by that impulsive decision.
Please enjoy my journal entries from my trip to Amsterdam.
Day One
l arrived in Amsterdam after a few delays at the Stuttgart airport. I almost took the wrong bus to the city center once I reached Amsterdam. Thank goodness for the kind bus driver's redirection and my utter lack of ego when it comes to asking questions.
l checked into my small hotel, dropped off my things, walked back down the many narrow staircases to the lobby, and ventured out for sushi. My original choice in restaurant was closed, so I ended up at Robo Bar where my aperol spritz was prepared by a robot. The food was alright but worth it for the novelty of the robot. Afterwards, I went back to the hotel before dark so I wasn’t walking around alone at night. I spent the remainder of the evening reading and enjoying my own company.
Day Two
I began the day with breakfast at the hotel, and then I took a chance and walked to the Van Gogh museum to see if I could slip in without a reserved ticket. I was quickly shooed away, so I took an Uber to shop in Jordaan where I found a cute pink sweater in a boutique slightly more affordable than the rest. I stopped in the Le Labo fragrance boutique and tried not to let my eyes widen when told the price of a travel size perfume that had a disappointing smell. It’s safe to say I’m grateful I didn’t blind buy their Matcha scent before this moment.
After shopping, I couldn’t find an Uber, so I walked to the Rijksmuseum where it was packed to the gills with museum-goers. I took so many photos of the art to send Grandma Charlene. My favorite was the Van Gogh landscape. I didn’t catch its title as I was scooted along in the crowd.
I stopped at a place called Momo for lunch on a whim and had the best sushi of my entire life. I ate a roll with lobster, mango, asparagus, and creamed wasabi. I also ordered toro tuna nigiri topped with beluga caviar. Sensational. Even their wasabi was the best quality, with chunks of the plant still in tact and tender.
On my walk back to the hotel, my friend Paige messaged me to say she and her in-laws were grabbing lunch (at a spot I had walked past under a minute ago). I turned around and joined them for a drink while they ate lunch. They let me try one of their bitterballen bites— a Dutch dish that looks like falafel but tastes like a stew. It was such a nice surprise to see them. I returned to the hotel and got ready for dinner and the show.
Dinner was a three-course meal at Cafe Americain next to the theatre. I had duck pate with apricots for my starter, grilled dorade fillets with gnocchi puffs & asparagus for my main, and a vanilla bean crème brûlée for dessert.
I scurried around the corner for the pre-show activities, including getting my near-tattered copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day signed before the show. I was 8th in line and spent the time waiting rehearsing what I wanted to say about the impact his effortless and humorous writing has had on me before I made it to the signing table. All of that went out the window as he asked me questions about where I’m from and where I live now. He drew a French flag and spouted off the bit of German he knows from Duolingo.
“This is the copy I sent my husband to read eight years ago when he was in basic training.” I managed to utter.
“That’s wonderful,” he said with a smile.
I thanked him and walked away.
I had hoped he’d meet me and we’d grab each other’s forearms in excitement and vow to become pen pals. But alas, I am merely just another fan. A girl can dream, though. It was so fun to meet him in person and see his wild outfit of a blazer and some kind of puffy skirt. It turns out his descriptions of his own style are not hyperbole.
The reading was fabulous. The women seated either side me were happy to be there and laughed freely. His essays and diary entries were even better read aloud. The first diary entry he read was from my birthday of this year. I took that as a sign that I’m right where I need to be for this trip.
After the reading was finished, I took the book I bought to the signing line. I stealthily hustled and was 9th in line this time amongst the sea of hundreds. This time he drew a pumpkin. Big fan. Love the pumpkin. I got to ask him how he structures his essays: is there a formula or is it more fluid than that. He told me he builds from the first line. If that first line isn’t great, he won’t like what he’s writing.
“So like a good hook?” I asked.
“Yes, exactly,” he said.
While I was waiting for that second signing, I noticed the woman in front of me had on pointed red-orange pumps. Exquisite. So while we waited in line together, I asked her about them and told her I loved them. The heels were from a market here that happens on Kings Day. Her name is Lauren— she works in theater marketing and writing, she’s 36, and we’re friends now. This was a welcome surprise for my evening, as someone who is very comfortable being alone. I’m glad to have made a friend on this trip. What a highlight.
We grabbed a drink and chatted for more than an hour after the show. She showed me her new character for a sketch show she’s pitching “Trash Tarot” who is a direct and scratchy-voiced tarot reader who actually gave me a reading in character before we exchanged social media handles and walked out together.
I stopped at a small cafe on my walk home for a glass of champagne and a slice of tiramisu. I sat people watching out the cafe window as I unhurriedly enjoyed my nightcap and treat. Much to my delight, a cat popped her head up from under my table. The waiter told me her name is Olivia as he cruised by to help another table. She climbed in my lap and I was in heaven. I’ve been missing my cat since I lost him in January. Olivia’s visit was the cherry on top to this beautiful day.
When I entered the theatre earlier in the evening, I silently hoped this would be a fun and meaningful experience for me. I’d built up the reading in my head since I bought the tickets in March. It was lovely to meet Lauren. It was incredible to meet David. It felt amazing to laugh so much and with a crowd. Tonight was wonderful.
Day Three
This morning began with breakfast at the hotel. I listened to the older German ladies at the table next to me gossip about souvenir prices. They were speaking in English so I was able to eavesdrop, which is a small source of entertainment I didn’t know I’d miss before moving to Europe.
Not that I make it a habit to be in everyone’s business, but if I’m alone and you’re speaking loudly… I have no choice but to be audience to this discourse and it’s more fun when I can understand.
After a very European breakfast of hard boiled eggs, deli meat, and a croissant, I hit the town to find the antique and Dutch Delft shop that Paige told me about yesterday. I found a Delft magnet there to commemorate the trip and shopped around the streets of Amsterdam until it was time for my reserved ticket time at the Van Gogh museum.
The museum was sensational. I think it had five floors. I fell in love with his tiny still life titled “Sprig of Flowering Almond in a Glass.” His colors are so prismatic and it seems as though he’s painting the rays of light illuminating the object’s reflection rather than the object itself.
I loaded up on notebooks, postcards, and some other small items at the museum shop. One thing my Grandma has instilled in me, along with her love of art, is that the museum shop is nearly as much fun as the museum itself.
Next, on my itinerary for one, was a boat ride in the canals with a company called Pure Boat. The price was very reasonable and the boat was beautiful. There were wine and cheese boards galore as our tour guide spouted historical facts over his shoulder to all of us with our cheese and cracker stuffed mouths. I was sat next to a young TikTok famous couple who post their cats and have been able to finance a several week trip in Europe with their earnings. How wonderful for them! I followed their account immediately.
Some of the facts that I was able to write down between snacking and sips of champagne:
In 1345 an indestructible Eucharist wafer became the miracle of Amsterdam. It was given to a man on his deathbed, thrown up, burned, and it always survived. I’m certain I’ve missed some details there, but how fascinating.
Hooks on the sides of the narrow houses are used to move merchandise and furniture in and out of the buildings.
The Red Light District got its name from the red glass shades over lamps which hid the Syphilis rashes of the sex workers in the olden days.
Amsterdam’s city motto: Heroic, Kind-hearted, Persistent.
Wokefeld means cloud field. I think that’s lovely.
This trip has felt like such an expression of self. I am grateful to be here and I am grateful to get to know myself more deeply on this solo trip.
Day Four
My travels home were mostly uneventful. My Uber to the airport was fast and filled with talk of the driver hating Amsterdam’s government. I gripped the edges of my seat with white knuckles and made empathetic noises every so often to let him know I was listening, but didn’t engage enough to get his eyes off the road.
I got a row of two seats to myself on the flight home. The train and bus rides back weren’t too full, which is always a more relaxing ride. I unpacked and did laundry and showered. When I was in sweats, my partner called to say we should go eat dinner at the Biergarten with some friends. I got changed and headed back out onto the town.
Thank you for joining me in trying out this new format. If you have any feedback, please message me on Instagram @ajamoonwrites.
Until next time,
Aja
