Flying Solo

Amsterdam was quite an adventure. It all began at 12:00 a.m. Thursday. My flight was at 6:30, but I found that there wasn't a bus that came by for me to get to the airport by 4, so I had to catch the midnight bus, which meant I arrived at the airport around 1-something. It was a bit eerie with absolutely no one walking around in the airport. I took about an hour to walk around and explore the airport. I walked upstairs and found a whole bunch of people sleeping. They were all stretched out on the benches, sleeping there, as if it was their bedrooms. It was quite a sight (of course, I took pictures - I'm not a stalker Andy! It's just funny. I can't help it. Thinking in pictures is a disease).

Then, I slept for a couple of hours and went to go check in. I get to the front of the line. Then, my nightmare comes into fruition: I forgot my passport. (FYI in case you didn't know, you probably do know: Before I came to London and while I've been here, the recurring nightmare is that I forget to pack, miss my flight - generally leading me to anxiety and stress) For the first couple of minutes, I was in denial, "What? You mean I can't go?" "Really?" The guy was really nice; he felt bad for me. So, I had to transfer my flight to a later time. I wanted to just give up and go sometime next week, but that involved more money (which is bad).

I took the train to the bus station, took the bus home, missed the bus stop, got off on the next one, ran to the flat, took the lift, ran to my first drawer, got my passport, quickly paced to the door, slipped on a piece of paper near Evelyn's bed, fell hard on my knees, quietly whispered a painful "Ow", got up, ran out the door, caught another bus, took a train to the airport, had a latte, then waited to check in.

I was supposed to meet up with Nancy and Ming in front of the van Gogh museum at 11, but being that my flight was at 10:25, that wasn't going to work out. So after I contacted them (with the help of Paul - thanks pal), I was on the plane to Amsterdam... finally.

I was flying solo for the day.

After I arrived, I got on the tram to the van Gogh museum. As soon as I got on, I asked a random man if this tram went to the museum and he kindly answered, "yes". I felt a sense of lightness - once I got to van Gogh, I would be fine. The nice man said he would let me know when my stop was because he was getting off there too. We had a wonderful conversation about where we're from, Europe, and art. He was an artist! He paints everything from detailed miniatures to portraits to huge frescoes. He described a painting he did on a wooden floor that was a rusted blue; he painted Japanese goldfish on it. It sounded uber neat. After our 20-minute ride to the museum, we got off and parted ways. We shook hands as we parted ways; it was a nice warm handshake. We never even introduced ourselves.

The van Gogh museum. I was in an entirely different dimension while I was in there. The chaotic happenings of the morning and the anxiety of being a new unknown place all left my body, as my eyes could only follow the thick, intense strokes of van Gogh. It was simply brilliant. Every time I see van Gogh's works in person, I just grow to appreciate him more and more. He rocks my world. I wish I could have been his friend. The van Gosh museum is my favorite museum. Ever. Well, so far in my life.

After the van Gogh and feeling absolutely happy, I decided to just walk around, get lost and explore. The city of Amsterdam was so quaint and picturesque (those Dutch painters definitely had plenty of beauty around to be inspired by). A random guy asked me if I knew what time it was. I told him I didn't know and walked on by. He turned around and told me that I had a thick American accent and asked me what I was doing in Amsterdam. Of course, he asks me where I'm 'originally' from because I'm not white. Then, he corrects himself and asks, 'or where are your parents from?' That was new. His name was Jonathan. He was born and raised in Amsterdam, but his parents are from Israel. So he asks me what my plans are and I tell him that I just want to walk around and explore. He said he would walk me over to some pretty canals, so I got a little walking tour. It was nice. He explained buildings, eating places and other Amsterdam things to me. Once we got to the canals, we parted ways. Quite a nice fella.

After walking around, I went over to the national museum - Rijksmuseum. It houses Rembrandt's, Vermeer's, Hals, etc. It was quite a contrast from the van Gogh. Those Dutch painters and their precision. It's amazing to see such smooth brush strokes that are barely visible. Whenever I look at the still life paintings, I want to hold my breath because everything just looks frozen in time. I had a grand time. Oh! I saw 'The Night Watch' and it totally reminded me of AP Art History and Mr. LaPorte. It was way bigger than I expected and breathtaking.

Then I found a park, sat down, talked to God, thought, wrote in my journal, walked over to the canals, had some juice and banana nut bread and thought some more. Being alone the entire day was nice. Although I would have enjoyed experiencing Amsterdam with Nancy and Ming, the day turned out to be a God-and-me day, which was spiritually refreshing. The day was about letting go and letting God do His thing. Most everything was out of my control once I forgot my passport and had no map in Amsterdam. But he led me through the day. I read one of the little devotional things my mommy sent me and was reminded once again that the only one I can truly rely on is Him 'cause I do a fine job forgetting and messing things up when I try to control everything. Overall, Amsterdam was a physically draining yet spiritually filling experience.

Flying solo is fun, but soaring with God means I can fly higher.