Micha and I arrived back home in the States yesterday. Sigh, Amsterdam was my vacation from vacation. In Paris I was sleeping on a futon and in Brussels we both shared a mattress pad on the (albeit free) floor of a friend's. In Amsterdam, I had a king sized bed. Alone.
The apartment we rented was wonderful. Big, clean and simple. An old dutch building with tall ceilings and big windows. A washing machine. Most days I slept till noon.
The apartment we rented was wonderful. Big, clean and simple. An old dutch building with tall ceilings and big windows. A washing machine. Most days I slept till noon.
Do you know the website airbnb? It's how we found all of our apartments for the trip. For less than half of the price of the cheapest hotel, we were able to rent our own beautiful place and have separate bedrooms and a kitchen.
The art nouveau Hamlet poster was original to the teens or 1920s and belonged to the owner's father. We both squealed when we saw it.
The owner left us a bottle of wine and fistfuls of dutch candy in our apartment when we first arrived. With such an auspicious start, how could I not fall hopelessly for Amsterdam? Easily bribed, it's true.
