This blogpost is about my work day in Amsterdam. First, I should probably clarify that none cannabis were smoked or consumed in Amsterdam, and my subsequent psychosis was definitely not caused by that, but rather by very confusing and chaotic transport system in Amsterdam.
Everything started yesterday at three in the morning, when I could barely open my eyes and found myself cursing my life and my job. I could not understand why I was scheduled to fly to a business meeting on the very same day instead of the previous evening. To make matters worse, I was expected to return on the exact same day, which basically meant facing a twenty-four-hour working day. It was absolute rubbish, and no one seemed to care that my business trip was only going to conclude at three o’clock the following morning. However, I had a plan. Instead of flying back on the same day, I would stay in Amsterdam for a night and then fly to London for a weekend. The accountant approved that, even thought he return ticket was booked for the same day.
I packed my things in a major rush because I failed to sort everything out the night before. I quickly swallowed a tub of cottage cheese and already headed towards the door when I suddenly realised that I could not find the keys to my suitcase. After a completely unsuccessful search through drawers that were filled with all sorts of useless items, I decided to give up on the keys. There was nothing of value inside anyway, so I called a taxi. I reached the airport quite quickly, and the tariff looked rather reasonable at only one Litas (currency in Lithuania before Euro) per kilometre. I asked the driver for their telephone number since this taxi did not belong to the usual company that I normally called. The driver replied that the number was 25111111. Upon arrival, I noticed that the bill came to 20 Litas because the driver took a detour through Olandų Street to ensure a faster journey. I requested a receipt, but I received a reply that they had no way of issuing one. The driver told me that I could request a receipt for the twenty-fourth when I make my return journey. This was basically a scam. I paid and l headed for check-in.
I approached the check-in desk feeling thoroughly irritated. Everything went smoothly, and I eventually reached security. I saw a woman with a child and a puppy attempting to pass through the checkpoint, which seemed too complicated for her. The security officer finally started explaining to her exactly what to do, because the poor girl’s brain had probably begun to ache from thinking so hard what to carry first through the security and then come back for the next. He suggested that she should remove the puppy so the machine could scan the cage, then she should put the puppy back, take the child, let the machine scan the stroller, and finally, place the child back into the stroller. I wondered if it could really be that complicated. I approached another security officer, and I left that free circus behind before it even finished.
I managed to catch a nap on the airport benches for about half an hour. Furthermore, I did some work for my astronomy project before the time finally arrived for boarding. The boarding and flight was all smooth. However, I had to rush to my meeting immediately after I disembarked from the plane. I purchased a ticket from Schiphol to the central station, and I frantically looked for the train dragging by suitcase. I found myself riding the escalators up and down repeatedly in a state of confusion. Finally, the sign for “Amsterdam Central” lit up at the platform where I already stood before. I boarded the train, but as it later turned out, I rode around all those times with an unmarked ticket, which was quite amusing. Good I didn’t know, or I would have had a panic attack on the train.
I left my suitcase in a locker at Amsterdam station. I discovered that the lockers only accepted cards, and the fee was seven and a half euros per day. Although it felt quite expensive, I had absolutely no time to hesitate, so I deposited my luggage. I rushed out into the street, wondering which tram I was supposed to take. Meanwhile, a colleague called to ask about my whereabouts, as they already started the meeting without me.
I eventually boarded the tram, but unfortunately, I exited it far too early. I had to walk a distance of five hundred metres on foot. Finally, I reached the Lloyd Hotel, which appeared well-known by everyone. I sat through the meeting while constantly nodding off because I desperately needed sleep. In addition, I managed to save the situation for one lady asking too many questions by explaining exactly how the system worked. They served sandwiches for lunch, which happens to be the thing I detest most about Amsterdam. The Dutch simply do not eat proper lunches, but sandwiches instead. Eventually, the meeting finished, and I called my friend with whom I planned to spend the evening. I reached his place with some difficulty by train. It was not my first visit, as I visited him before, and I stayed at his home during my previous trip to Amsterdam. Remarkably, my guiding star to his flat turned out to be a group of smoking black guys whom I saw there day after day, smoking cannabis.
We went to the park to sit down for a bit. My energy levels were completely depleted. I saw other people sunbathing, so I also removed my t-shirt. I completely surrendered to sleep, and it felt wonderfully warm. It was an excellent nap. Also, we tried to buy some ice cream on our way to the park, but we discovered that no one sold single portions in the stores – just boxes of 4-6. We had to buy four, and my Visa card did not work either, as they only accepted Dutch cards for some reason.
That was not the end of my adventures. In the evening, we rode bicycles to eat some Thai food. I rode a rather broken city bicycle, which was actually quite pleasant ride because I did not need to bend much, and I kept my back completely straight. I found the Thai cuisine magnificent. Afterwards, we visited a mutual acquaintance from Lithuania. On the way back, I stopped at a petrol station to grab some cola. The shop assistant asked me something in Dutch when I presented the bottle to be scanned through the glass behind which she sat. I offered an apology, to which she replied in English “Oh you have a tongue after all”, as she assumed I was mute. Indeed, I completely forgot to extend a proper greeting to her when approaching her and that was considered very rude.
We made our journey back home through the night of Amsterdam after evening out. It felt warm and pleasant, and a beautiful full moon was visible. The lamps beautifully illuminated the canals, which was marvellous. We passed the Red Light District and the gay rainbow flags, which re-affirmed that this was truly Amsterdam.
I crashed immediately upon returning. In the morning, I was back on my feet by four o’clock and rushed to Muiderpoort station. I expected a train to the centre from there, but hope is famously the mother of fools as they say in Lithuania. I quickly realised that if I waited for the train, I would miss my flight to London. I dashed along the pavement and encountered a red-haired girl walking her dog at four-thirty in the morning. I asked her where I could find a taxi. She kindly gave directions, but she stated that the location was quite far away. I ran towards it at full speed. I only kept ten euros in my pocket, and I knew that it would not be enough. It was highly infuriating. I found an ATM along the way. I searched for those taxis but could not find them anywhere. Confusion and anxiety set in. I spotted a taxi and made a sprint towards it, but the driver apologised and just replied that he had to leave. I attempted to call the number written on the car, but the automated message said that no such number existed. I feared I would definitely miss the flight since the plane was due to depart in two hours. I made a retreat, but I noticed another taxi, executed a turn, and ran towards it. Finally, a driver agreed to take me. I reached the central station in a few minutes, and I paid thirteen euros. I rushed to the train, but I chose the wrong platform, and I saw the train departing from the opposite platform. It was a complete disaster!
The next train was scheduled in thirty minutes, which made me want to scream. A taxi would cost forty euros and take thirty minutes, so the required time to get to the airport was very similar by both, but also taxi could be stuck in a traffic. I endured the wait while I contemplated how “wonderful” it would be if Amsterdam became the place where I was permanently stranded.
Eventually, I boarded the train and started my journey to the airport. Upon arrival, I rushed to the check-in area immediately. I experienced severe breathlessness from all the running. From the outside, I probably looked like a madman. The suitcase rattled loudly as I rolled it over the hard pavement. Nevertheless, hope dies the last, and I reached the check-in desk just in time. I performed the automated check-in. At that exact moment, I spilled all my coins over an area of four square metres. I saw the image of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth scattered everywhere on the floor, alongside a few euros and the Lithuanian Litas with a raised tail horse. A woman working there offered help to collect them. I completed the check-in and send my baggage on the belt to the airplane. I successfully overcame all the challenges to come in time! Now, I only needed to find gate D18. According to the screens, the journey to the gate required a thirteen-minute walk. I maintained a trot because I gathered such momentum that stopping was impossible. I felt a severe thirst, so I purchased a bottle of Coca-Cola for three euros. I silently cursed Amsterdam in that moment.
The staff started the inspection of hand luggage right before the gate with those x-ray scanners. This meant that passengers could not bring any liquids through. I observed another traveler as he greedily gulped down his water in a hurry. I just smiled and commented on the convoluted rules. We sparked a pleasant conversation with a guy. He was an American who also held Polish citizenship, and we spent the entire flight talking to each other. I barely noticed when the staff made the announcement that the plane was already landing in London. Welcome to London! I passed the border patrol, boarded the train and in the end I successfully reached St Christopher’s Inn hostel.