Amsterdam

On our way to Kenya in April, we had a 23-hour layover in Amsterdam that Jason and I actually enjoyed.  I have been to Amsterdam several times and seem to always have bad luck there.  Past incidents include:

• ran out of gas somewhere between Paris and Amsterdam during a rain storm
• car broken into
• car "booted" by police
• got to our awesome-deal hotel only to find out we were in the center of the red light district on the ground floor with a large window that people thought was part of the show
• was locked in said hotel alone with creepy Bates-Hotel-like man knocking on the door regularly
• was nearly killed by one of the million bicyclists who apparently always have the right-of-way
• "slept" in a tiny French car with three friends in the chill of February and awoke to someone looking into our foggy windows

Granted, most of my experiences either had something to do with the fact that my friend drove her car or that I was a college student trying to get by on minimal funds, so this time was much more positive.  We were able to really enjoy the charming streets and canals and we made sure to stay for less than 24 hours, before the city realized I was back.

We went on a boat tour of the city, like any good tourist should.

We also went to the Anne Frank Museum, the flower market, had delicious dutch pancakes at The Pancake Bakery and most importantly purchased some dutch necessities like stroopwafels and Vla.  Vla is basically pudding in a milk carton and it is genius!  Jason was skeptical at first, but I caught him enjoying it anyway.  Worst mistake of the trip: I was still recovering from the crazy illness that sent me to the ER five days before we left and wasn't feeling well enough to really chug down our Vla, so I put it into our hotel fridge and forgot it the next morning.  Tragic, I know.