Me: I always ate the crust like I was told. It wasn’t until last year I realized “that’s where all the vitamins are” was a lie.
Erin: I rather like the crust. The only time I don’t is on the little cucumber sandwiches at tea parties.
Me: …and how many of those do you go to?
Erin: Quite a lot, actually. I really like them.
Erin just left. I’m officially traveling solo again, and I’m not sure where I’m going tomorrow yet.
So sad. She’s terrific. She says “hey?” instead of “what?” – I miss it already.
We had an awesome last day, starting with laughing at Erin because she’d found out she’d been sleeping in bed four rather that three the prior two nights, severely irritating the woman that checked in late to find her bed occupied.
We were in a nearly empty massive dorm room. The “debacle” created was totally unnecessary.
We ran around the city today – the Amsterdam sign, she went to the Van Gogh Museum, I went to Vondelpark, and both to the Anne Frank Museum, built around the site of the Frank residence the family hid in for two years. I have now stepped through the door hidden by the bookcase.
This trip amazes me.
We ended our time together at a place recommended to us by our tour guide. We only remembered the directions of walking to the right way down toward a church where there’s a cafe nearby where you’ll see a hundred and fifty people outside eating apple pie.
Which is really easy to do, if it’s outdoor eating weather. Which it is not.
But we’re smart, we followed our noses, and we ended up at Winkels.
And now she’s gone. Off to mourn.
With hurried steps I cross the streets / they’re keeping pace with quick heartbeats / a thought a moment on the mind / to look both ways I just declined / I see their wheels cross without cares
/ I hear their bells don’t see their glares / a gutter runs I ran right through / the quickest route to being two / now rain-soaked prints a path they mark / so you’ll find me here in Vondelpark.