Do you know to expect me
I've never left something so unfinished as I will leave you
not having time to explore all the facets I have discovered that exist
beneath the original attraction.
You will draw me back to the places I have marked
and left untouched
Drawing me back invariably
to discover, always more.


It was all fairly spontaneous. Last minute. The tickets were reasonable and the idea was mouthwatering.
The Netherlands. The European step-child who is, tolerant of everything, and driving stuffy Great Britain crazy. You know the saying "Trust no one over 30"? It must be that no one there is over 30. Amsterdam: the land of culture. Shipwrights, artists, architects, engineers, writers, all kinds of culture and subculture. So we're on our way. Our first trip together, outside of decade old family trips to the beach where we drowned our sorrows in shrimp and liquor. Our first solo flight off and away. Just us 2 for 3 days.


Wake up, touch down, wander around
We, fitful sleepers, do not realize the light outside till pre landing when the opening shades startle us like the impressive turbulence that woke you. Or was it me waking against your shoulder grabbing lightly onto you to keep from squealing and gasping like so many other passengers?
The language up until now has been something Arabic, something Bollywood friendly. 7 hours of time change, 8 hours of mini culture shock followed up by another language more Germanic.
“Uitgang”
As time goes on I will learn to recognize a few key commands. But for now, like an untrained dog, I can only look quizzically on while I instinctually follow the maze and others examples.
We wander in circles at the airport looking for exits and trains. The airport maps are little help finding the ticket seller, who has been moved outside (due to construction), while the trains on the inside lower level.
“Ga binnen”
Down the stairs to the train; all the platforms look the same. I’m looking for number 4 but that’s the tram we’ll need later. Upstairs to look at the scheduled then back down again, this time a different platform. We wait as the double decked train pulls in, not opening till a woman pushed a button on the outside.
We have a club type car to ourselves on the 2nd tier. Looking out over the streets and stops wondering what kind of honor system they have since there was no place to slip our tickets in and no one to supervise us. “When do we know to get off?” I ask him, as he is all knowing to me. “It’ll say Central Station”. He replies and of course it will. What did I expect, a foreign language?
Some one comes by to take the tickets (disproving the honor system theory) and informs us we are in first class. We move but only have to wait one more stop.
Up and out of the station onto the tram. You buy your tickets in the back and yes this is the tram for Freidrikesplien. It starts up slow, touching electrical wires above. I’m always wondering when we get off. We just have to wait till we see a sign. Then it’s a walk in the park to the garden level red door.