...do as the Romans do. When in Amsterdam, bike to the clerb.
Game plan: Escape, a notoriously American, notoriously trashy (weird how those go hand in hand) club in Rembrantplein. Upon arrival, I presented my free-entrance "lady ticket" (<-- real name) to the bouncer. He shakes his head, saying the ticket is only valid on Friday nights. This is not noted on the ticket, mind you. He asks for my student id or 10 euro to enter. I tell him I didn't bring my student id, because I had my LADY TICKET. Now, he simply demands 10 euro.
I throw a fit and mutter a not so kind word to the bouncer before getting out of line. My friends convince me to get back in line, with the intent of passing a friend's id back to me (thanks, Bi!). Problem solved, right? Wrong, again. When I got to the front, the bouncer goes, "No, not her. She can't come in tonight."
Eventually, a friend came outside and explained that our 25-person group would have to leave the club if I wasn't let in. It was only then that old baldy lifted the velvet rope and allowed my entrance. In the end, it was all good, because I didn't have to pay, and I was able to be with all my friends. But Escape was lame and 100% not worth the trouble of the night.
Met my Dutch buddy got coffee at a super cool bar called Cafe het Shuim. She's 18, a sophomore at UvA, and we get along great. We both agreed that we want to learn more about each other's culture through an authentic source, so I'm excited for the exchanges to come.
Today was also the first day I was forced to bike in some serious rain. My dutch buddy's advice on navigating this foreign liquid from the sky on a bike: "You'll get used to the awkward feeling of walking around in wet pants all day." ...I'll tolerate alot, Netherlanders - drugs, prostitution, euthenasia - but I will not tolerate wet pants. Hmph. (Note: My pants, among other articles of clothing, were soaked for the entirety of my coffee date.)
As for today's nightlife! I went to bed at 11pm. Thanks to SC, I feel no shame staying in on a Friday night. There's always every other night of the week.
CIEE daytrip to the island of Marken and city of Volendam, just NE of Amsterdam. Being on the water, the wind was blowing about a bajillion miles per hour, but it was a fun cultural experience to walk through the charming little towns. Realistically, though, all my motivations for attendance were in the free food, which consisted of lunch and a classy, authentic Indonesian meal for dinner.
I can't forget to mention the fact that part of the day trip included a group photo in traditional Dutch garb. See below for the lol of a lifetime.
As if this day weren't exhausting enough, a bunch of CIEE kids and I headed out to a club called Trouw around 11pm. This is maybe the most underground club I've ever been to. The scene is electronic music, housed in an old newspaper printing factory, with half of the building literally underground. I'd have pictures, but the place is too hipster to allow them.
Too hipster in fact, to allow half of our group to enter, due to the fact that they were "overdressed." Frickin' bouncers here, man. It was really sad to have friends turned away at the door, super nerve-wracking to see if we and our attire would be accepted, and shockingly exhilarating to eventually be let in.
We danced the night away until 5am, and in typical Dutch fashion, biked home in a post-indulgence stupor. I made it to bed by 6am.
Sleep til 1pm. Shower. Grocery shop (obviously get lost trying to find the store). Do laundry, reading homework. Get cash out of the ATM (seriously, where do all my euros go?). Take trash out. Blog.
I'm finally settling into a bit of a routine here, and, amid the chaos of abroad adventures, its a big comfort to spend my Sunday being kind of normal.