How do I describe solo travel when you have almost unlimited resources, no fear of any social situation, and no real responsibilities? Let me begin.
Day 1
I arrived in Amsterdam on Thursday morning and checked into a nice NH hotel. I hit the attractive receptionist with a brilliant line about the weather, and she said she’d upgrade me to a nicer room. (To be fair, she said she was going to do that anyway before I asked her if Amsterdam ever sees the sun.)
Once showered, I headed to a great beer bar where I ate some smoked eel. From there I moved on to another bar and started chatting up the bartender, asking where the fun spots were. That led me to yet another bar, where I had a couple of heavy 8.5% ales and made friends with a Dutch woman who was enthusiastically telling me about Belgium where I was going next. Running on very limited plane sleep, I eventually made it back to my room and passed out around 5:30pm.
Awaking at 7:30pm, I knew I’d never survive the night without food, I found a burger joint and destroyed a cheeseburger before heading to a bar with live music, where I watched the gold medal Women’s Ice Hockey game. After a few drinks, I wandered into an Irish pub and saw a pretty girl sitting by herself. I asked where she was from, she said the U.S., and we talked for about 45 minutes. Then, out of nowhere, this really drunk guy stumbled up to me, pointed at her, made a heart shape with his hands, and then a dramatic stabbing motion through it. I was dumbstruck. Of course, this was the exact moment she was getting ready to leave, and I’m pretty sure we were hitting it off. She was telling me about the multiverse and how all good deeds go against your bad deeds as a life counter. That guy ruined my chances as she watched every second of it.
After that emotional rollercoaster, I went to a coffee shop and bought a J, having absolutely no idea what effect it would have on me. That decision carried me to another pub, where I watched a group of Europeans doing what I can only describe as wildly enthusiastic Spanish dance moves, having the time of their lives. As far as I can remember, that wrapped up my first night.
Day 2
I got up at 7 a.m. and ate the hotel breakfast because, well, I paid for it. I’m pretty sure the weed helped my appetite, because I managed to house a solid amount of food at that early hour. After that, I went back to sleep until 10, then took my Kindle to the park and read for a bit before heading to yet another Irish pub for a few Guinness. One minor point of interest, I bought a water bottle from a super market, walked through this gate, and I sounded an alarm. You must scan you receipt to leave the store. You live you learn.
From there, I made my way to a Delirium bar serving Tremens, run by a woman from the UK. I had a nice conversation with her and a guy from Syria. Their music list was playing b sides of Phil Collins and Sting so I was obviously digging it. After three of those beers, I was feeling pretty good, so I grabbed some street food and checked out a bar someone had told me about that supposedly had great live music.
There, I started talking to a random French guy who bred horses in Scottsdale (as one does), along with some people from the UK. At some point after leaving, while crossing the street, I tripped and my phone screen hit the ground. Not fully grasping the consequences at the time, I went back to the hotel and went to sleep like nothing had happened.
And since I know what everyone is thinking – Amsterdam, Red Light District, hookers – I will publicly state that I did not partake in any such shenanigans but I did see quite a few red lights and the girls range from D’s to A’s. Wondering if you catch anything from these girls from those shags would ruin all future days on this type of trip.
Day 3
I woke up at 3 a.m., hoping the phone was a bad dream. Unfortunately, when I looked at it, I confirmed that I had fucked myself. By tapping the screen to see if it worked, I accidentally made an emergency call and they were asking if I needed help in Dutch. I told them it was an accident but at least the phone worked, I just couldn’t see any display. Now I’m hungover, trying to figure out my next move, because I have a train to catch to Antwerp. I attempted breakfast, but my body wasn’t agreeable to this plan.
I walked around trying to find a phone store, but Saturday mornings are not prime time operation in Europe. So I boarded my train to Antwerp feeling awful and fully aware I was heading straight into a logistical nightmare.
I got off the train and was greeted by a big city and a sea of people. With no navigation and no real plan, I just started walking in what felt like the best direction. On a main strip, I found a phone store and explained my situation. They told me there was a repair shop five minutes away. Great, except once I left, I couldn’t find the store. I also couldn’t find my hotel.
So now I’m wandering around Antwerp, asking random strangers if they speak English and if they can help me find this repair shop. A couple of kind people finally pointed me in the right direction. I explained everything to the repair guy, and he said 200 euros. Fine. Just get me out of this mess. Then he tells me he didn’t have the part in stock and had to call a colleague to see if they had it. He said he could probably get it and told me to come back at 4 p.m.
With hours to kill and anxiety levels through the roof, I went to the Antwerp Zoo. I wish I could show you the cool photos I took of the elephants, but those exist only in my brain. I wandered around stressed out of my mind because without my phone, I was completely screwed. All my tickets were on there. People would be wondering why I wasn’t responding for who knows how long. How was I supposed to navigate the rest of this trip?
When I returned at 4, he told me there was a minor issue: my phone was the American model, and he had the European version. Fantastic. But he thought he could make it work. I waited a little longer, mentally preparing for disaster, and then by some miracle, he fixed it. I was over the moon because I don’t even think purchasing a new phone would have saved me with the ability to re-configure my Outlook because of the authenticator. The man single-handedly saved my trip.
I didn’t have a beer that day (a true sign of hardship), but I thought Antwerp was really cool. I’d probably go back just maybe for a day or two. I went to bed early, emotionally drained.
Day 4
Now in much better spirits, I made my way to Brussels, where I immediately encountered the prettiest French girl I’ve ever seen. Legit 10/10. This was at my hotel, of course, so obviously I said nothing and checked into my room.
I’ve been to Brussels before, but I spent some time wandering around anyway before heading to a bar to watch the USA–Canada game. I had three half-liter Belgian beers and was officially cooking. I even made a friend from Rwanda, and we ended up chatting about the U.S. and life in general.
After that, I went to the actual Delirium Village, which was pretty awesome, though a bit tame on a Sunday night. I grabbed a meal and called it an early night. After everything that happened on Night 2, I wasn’t about to put my trip in jeopardy.
Days 5-7
The reason I was in Europe in the first place was for a trade show in Cologne, Germany. There’s honestly not much to report from those next few days, it was mostly work, with some fun mixed in where possible.
The German I’ve picked up over the last few years has actually been somewhat useful. I can now tell people I don’t speak German, say thank you, and apologize – so basically I’m fully prepared for international incidents. I can also catch some numbers and generally get the gist of conversations when people assume I have no idea what they’re saying, which is moderately helpful and occasionally entertaining.
The best part, though, is that I’ve got European colleagues over there now who I consider friends. People who help me get a bigger perspective on the world than only from the States. It’s helpful and encouraging to know that other people share the same principles I do.
Parting Thoughts
These trips aren’t for the faint of heart. There’s this constant feeling that something new is always ahead, and it doesn’t really matter whether you “feel” like doing it or not, you’re doing it. Add in the fact that you’re completely out of your routine, waking up in a different city almost every night. You can’t exercise like you normally would, the food’s different, your sleep is off, and you’re just hoping you can enjoy it through all of that. It’s a huge mix of emotions.
When I was out until 1 a.m. the last night and had to catch a 6:30 train the next morning, I wasn’t exactly the happiest human alive. But the conversations? I wouldn’t trade those for anything. Where else can you talk to complete strangers in foreign settings and have them genuinely make you feel welcomed into their community? It doesn’t happen like that in the U.S because you have to leave to experience it.
So yes, there’s stress. A lot of it. But there’s also this part of me that knows I’m right to do it this way. If I can navigate a foreign city during that phone fiasco with nothing but my good looks (and money), I can handle most things. That does something to your confidence.
I’m doing the cruise this week then head to the UK in May. I’d like to throw a visit to Asia somewhere in the fall. That would be a nice year of trips.
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