TRAVEL DAY

I'll begin with my pet-peeve cliché about how flying business class internationally is the only civilized way to travel.  I can’t count the times I’ve rolled my eyes at those people who “only travel business” when going abroad.  I try to forgive them by reminding myself that they are rarely the ones footing the bill for such privileges (at least, the people I know) and tell myself that if given the opportunity to actually pay the extra $6,000 it costs for this privilege, they would admit that it is absolutely not worth it.    That said, as I sit – no, recline – no,  lounge suspended -- in my seat wondering whether increasing the lumbar support will intensify the personal massage feature I’ve been enjoying in my seat for the past six hours, I can’t help but wonder whether I’ve become one of those annoying people.    Then again, if I take myself back to that return trip from Thailand and remember the metal bar that I sat on for seventeen hours in that seat that wouldn’t recline, I can say with confidence that even then, had I been given the opportunity to pay for an upgrade, I would not have thought it worthwhile to make a massive savings withdrawal to take that pain and numbness away.  That’s like, one-third – no, one-half a car!  Would I pay one-half a car for a vibrating chaise lounge in the sky?  Probably not.  Definitely not!   But for now, I will sip my very lovely Dutch wine that paired oh-so-nicely with my salmon bonbon and buttery hand-cut melba toast and discreetly take my cues from the refined gentleman sitting next to me as I try to pretend that I’ve done this before.   Does my eating every last bit of minced marinated peppers and cucumbers off my plate give me away?  Probably no more so than my writing about this experience while sitting right next to said refined gentleman.

I lucked out with a somewhat shortened trip to Cape Town.  Instead of having an 8-hour layover in London, I had a 4-hour layover in Amsterdam from 6 AM to 10 AM.  After a successful skype call with Andrew, I took Dan’s suggestion to hop the train to the city center for breakfast.  I bought some Euros, negotiated with the train ticket machine and successfully extracted a one-way first class seat to Amsterdam.  I had no idea what class seat or train I actually rode in, but I am fairly certain that I paid at least twice what everyone else I was riding with paid for their seats.  I met a nice guy from Kuwait who asked me if he was on the right platform (poor guy), and I explained to him that I had no idea… but that we were both trying to go to the same place.

I was so looking forward to a scenic train trip to the city and was quickly disappointed to learn that the sun rises very late in the Netherlands in October.  All I could see out the window was my grinning reflection as it dawned on me that I had officially begun this adventure.  8AM, Amsterdam City Center – Pitch Black!  I ventured out beyond the train station and was instantly struck by the image of a sea of parked bicycles.  Thousands of them were crammed in this crazy 3-level parking structure.  Oh right – Amsterdam… where they ride bicycles everywhere.  I knew that…  But to see it!  It was overwhelming.

I headed over to a little tourist area and walked down a narrow street lined with hostels, bars and “coffee shops” which did not seem to actually be coffee shops.  Eventually, the smell of bread baking lured me across the street to a little café that wasn’t quite open.   They let me in anyway, thankfully.   I ordered a cappuccino from the perfect Dutch waitress in the perfect café in that perfect city on the most perfect version of a layover that I could have experienced.  I caught a glimpse of my chipped nail polish as I devoured the most delicious croissant I’d ever seen, much less, eaten.  It was giant, warm and hollow but also dense and flaky sweet.  This definitely beat an airport manicure – my intended layover activity.  I sat for almost an hour listening to some wonderful classical piano music that the staff was whistling to.  They knew the songs.  This was about the time that I began to feel so American — a little uncultured, a little isolated, and generally unworldly.  This old café looked old because it was old – it wasn’t faux-finished, distressed or decorated … it just evolved.  The staff there listened to classical music for fun.  It hit me that this was the vibe that many cool American joints go for… but this was just so raw and real and organic.  I wish my layover had been longer.  This was just magical.  No wonder John Irving is obsessed with this place.

I walked back to the train station and had a nice chat with the “bike attendant” who saw me taking pictures.  He had much to say about the state of this lot – which was one of 6 lots surrounding the train station.  The lot I was in held 4,500 bikes – most of which were stolen or abandoned.  The other lots, when at capacity, hold about the same – so, basically, you’re looking at 26,000 parked bikes on any given day at the train station.   Anyway, I learned that the bike situation is actually a real problem that needs to be addressed in the city.  They are currently in the process of building a bike basement for the train station, which will hold another 7,500 bikes.  But this guy said that as soon as it opens, it will be full in 3 or 4 days and just be yet another place where thousands of abandoned bikes sit.  Nuts, huh? The bike guy had a solution to offer, which I found rather charming.  He said that the mayor should publish a notice in all the papers for FOUR MONTHS stating that all of the bikes that aren’t moved out of the lot will have their locks cut and be impounded.  And then, four months later, the city should impound all the abandoned bikes and put them into a machine and crush them up.  Ya! All better!  I love that he suggested a four-month notification period in the newspapers… how about a few signs and a news report?  So freaking cute.  His impression of a giant bike compactor was adorable, too.    ... Almost as adorable as the fact that they do not sell chewing gum in the Schiphol airport.