Heading home

I’m at Schippol airport in Amsterdam waiting for my 8:55 a.m. flight home to Toronto. Didn’t get much sleep last night – Friday night in the Red Light District means rowdiness outside your window until 5:30 a.m. By the time 6 a.m. rolled around and I was heading towards the train station, everyone had deserted the streets.

The last four days has not been the greatest.

The contrast of hot and cold temperatures, I suspect, made me sick. It started off with a cold and I think it’s starting to come around to bronchitis. So the first stop back home will definitely be the doctor’s office for some meds.

But Amsterdam went out with a bang.

I took Javiss out for a birthday dinner at Supper Club, a very YOURS-like place in the tourist district. Dave’s co-worker had recommended I check it out and it looked just fucked-up enough to peak my curiosity. From what I gathered, it was like Cirque Du Soleil in a posh club with beds. I immediately pictured that episode of Sex and the City when the girls “go to Bed” and Carrie tells off Berger’s friends.

Five courses, bit pricey, but it was the way to go. Food was excellent, service matched. And they even offered foot and back massages right before dessert. Awesome.

I really enjoyed my time in Europe, but usually when two weeks roll around I feel it’s time to head home. I miss my bed, Dave, my friends, my family. And Wampa!

I did enjoy the romanticism of Paris. London has the nicest people willing to give directions and Amsterdam is very laid-back. But I think Spain won my heart.

Running with the bulls was a huge accomplishment for me. It was great hanging out with Erin and it was also the time where I felt most free and open to meeting new people.

Almost boarding time…

Thanks for reading.