I’m going through all my old photos and, in the interest of trying not to rant and complain for awhile, reposting a few and looking back on when they were taken.
These photos are from my last trip to Holland – Amsterdam. Don’t get me started on Amsterdam, my first great love. Mr Nikki’s, as well, which is why we’re doubly looking forward to our “belated” honeymoon in October. More on that later, too. (Iceland & Holland.)
My last trip was a bit strange. I went with a close friend of mine who was Czech. Well, she still is Czech. And that has no bearing on what I’m telling you, anyway. However, she’s a very talkative person who doesn’t have a lot of interest in personal space & boundaries, while I am NOT a very talkative person (seriously!) and take my personal space quite seriously. I am also not a morning person. I need quiet. She is an all-day person who, even when I shoved my headphones in my ears while looking right at her on the tram, pointedly, still did not get the point to please stop talking already. Of course, I felt very badly afterwards, especially after I made her cry because, really, what’s wrong with me? Of course, I’m coming to understand that nothing is wrong with me, I just happen to know some people who don’t notice boundaries or I just have a hard time clearly stating them. In any case, I wish I could do it all over again because I’d always wanted to go on a trip somewhere, with girls. A proper girls only kind of thing. Though, if I could do it all over again, I’d probably get just as irritated and still run into the bathroom to hide, just for a few moments of peace & quiet.
There were moments of fun. Like hanging out in this gorgeous boutique cum cafe. I sipped on lattes, ate cake & took pictures while she had a lengthy conversation about the boutique owner about… um… boutiques and design and stuff? She was into that sort of thing. And I think, debating whether or not to buy a bag which had an exterior made of that plastic green fake grass stuff. Seriously.
There were the few hours where I convinced her that we should go off on our own, our own separate ways, for a couple of hours and I walked up and down each street, over all the bridges over every canal, headphones firmly in place.
And there was the night at the hotel where I flirted with my waiter – a night during which I learned that sometimes you should leave well enough alone, just enjoy a moment and walk away from it, good memories intact.
I was incredibly drunk, quite stoned and having a fabulous conversation with him while my friend sat on a bench making out with another waiter. He was flirtatious, indeed, and I was sitting on the bench, leaning back with his arm firmly behind me. He’d put it there, not me. He’d even offered to try to help me find employment in Holland, as it was – and is – my eternal wish to live there forever and ever amen. He gave me his email address, insisted on getting mine, said he’d never been to Prague and would like to visit. One would think it safe to make a FEW assumptions here, correct? Well, I had to go and push it. He’d drawn a firm line in the sand about how flirtatious he would be and I couldn’t comprehend it. Especially not while drunk on beer & Amsterdam & scintillating conversation. I’m a sucker for conversations that extend well past the witching hour. So I pushed it. I tried to kiss him. (I’m actually a rather traditional girl & never make the first move. I just suggest & manipulate my way into it. But in this case, I was drunk & frustrated and as madly in love with Amsterdam as I am, I was absolutely giddy over the idea of having some sort of fling/extended madcap affair/kissing friendship with a bona fide Dutchman. Well, Dutch Boy. He was significantly younger than me.
Anyway. He said he couldn’t. Kiss me, that is. And I – drunk, remember? – actually uttered the words, “Why, are you gay?” I know, I know. But I couldn’t understand this comfortable manner unless he was like one of my flaming friends. Well, no, of course he wasn’t gay. He had a girlfriend. I stormed off and he was perplexed. My friend, V, chased after me to ask what was wrong and when I told her, she said, “So? Why is this a problem?” He, too, was perplexed and told her that he “didn’t know I was looking for a boyfriend.” Well, I felt incredibly stupid afterward and wrote him a month later to apologize which now, to this day, if I think about it, I’m still a little annoyed about. (He never did write back.) I, personally, would be livid if Mr Nikki had been hanging out with a girl, while I was away, and having the sorts of conversations we were having, arm around her shoulder. And speaking of visiting her in another country. Eh? But oh! The mature me realizes this was another of my boundary issues and what I should have simply said was that I wasn’t “looking for a boyfriend,” but I believe in full disclosure when it comes to boyfriends/girlfriends. (This was when a certain ex & I were on one of our infamous breaks/half relationship moments and I was trying to free myself of him entirely.) I believe in full disclosure, out of respect for said boyfriend/girlfriend because I never wanted to be “that girl” and because I like to be warned to hold back when I’m having the sort of evening where I feel completely unfettered and free. Ya know?
Thankfully, this was not my only trip to Amsterdam and has not soured me on my favorite city, in the least. I can’t wait to return with my favorite person.
This was the damned cat that started my whole evening of trouble:
And this is a place that I am inexplicably obsessed with:
I don’t know why I love Wagamama so, but I do. I eat there every time I go to Amsterdam & I’ve written them, asking them to open in the States. Luckily, Mr Nikki is equally obsessed. Kismet! I raved about it to this particular friend of mine, before we wen. I was horribly, horribly embarrassed when I took her there – she was fussy, difficult, and did nothing but complain. She even complained to the manager. I stood behind her shrugging my head and mouthing “I’m sorry.” Her complaints were unfounded and sounded like those of her VERY fussy (now ex) boyfriend.
Hm. Well. I’ll be there again soon enough, fates willing.
I’m sad that I’ve lost so many of my old posts, but I did manage to scrounge up a couple about that very same trip. The one where I got tipsy and ate clams, just because the waiter (yes, that waiter) flirted with me, and one about my favorite word, ever, “gezellig!”