Back to Amsterdam

Hubbub in Bruxelles Nord

Since I first took a train in Amsterdam Centraal almost two weeks ago, I noticed soldiers in pairs around the station. I knew they were soldiers because they were wearing camouflage uniforms and carrying rifles. (The rifles were the big clue. ;) )

Well, being new here, I just thought that they used their military for policing. I grew up under martial law, so that wasn't unusual to me.

It was a few days later when I heard a public announcement as I was walking out of the station. It was in Dutch, I think,  but I could figure out that they canceled trains heading to Germany. That's when I realized why there were soldiers at the station.

Yesterday, as I boarded the train at Brussels, I asked a young lady nearby if we were on a first-class car.

I always seem to end up in a first class car, so the conductor sends me to another car after checking my Eurail Pass. Seriously, I cannot tell the difference between first class and second class, and the first class car is not necessarily the first car in the line either.

Anyway, the young lady figured that we were in the right car, then she asked me if I saw the incident in the platform at the front of the train. I didn't. I imagined that someone might have fallen into the tracks or something. But she said there was a woman who was wearing "something" and was surrounded by five or more soldiers. That explained why the young lady's boyfriend sounded concerned when they said goodbye as she boarded the train ahead of me.

La Bocca

In Amsterdam, the bus fare seemed unusually expensive to me: €5. Especially since we were just going to the other side of the airport. The bus driver then put the money in his shirt pocket which seemed even more suspicious.

Anyway, I found the Airbnb, dropped off my luggage and headed to the Italian restaurant, which my host recommended, a block or so away.

It was only 17:30, so I asked the waitress if they were already open. She said "in five minutes", but I was welcome to sit down. In less than five minutes, an older couple came in asking what time they opened. Then another couple. Then two men. Soon, the place was full.

I had the pasta with salmon, and I ordered tiramisu. While waiting for the main course, she served two small rolls with something tomato-y to eat with the bread. I think it had some ground meat in it and other veggies and spices. Whatever it was, it was very good. The pasta with salmon was surprisingly good. It seemed ordinary, but I couldn't stop eating. But I had to save room for the tiramisu! And that was heavenly! And a fairly large serving too. With two bottles of iced tea, it all came to €30.

Back at the Airbnb, I noticed a urine-like smell in the room. But I couldn't figure out where it came from. It wasn't from the bed as I initially thought. First, I asked my host to open the windows for me, because they seemed stuck. The smell didn't disappear. So I asked if he had another available room. He didn't.

He offered to give me a full refund if I wanted to go elsewhere, but it was already dark out. So I said I'd stay the night and see how it goes.

I slept for about four hours, alternating between opening the window for fresh air and closing it for warmth. I still smell it and the window has been open for a few hours. So I reserved a hotel for the second night.