DUTCH TREAT

I'm in Holland!

The pictures were taken in a gift shop. I think these photos will make better souvenirs than the items themselves would make. They will certainly be easier to carry around anyway. I'm on a layover here for a few hours, captive in the airport, looking for ways to amuse myself. With no wifi in this airport, I'll retro-post this entry. (Made possible by the wonder that is the internet. Thank you, Al Gore!)

I've set up camp in the terminal. Sitting on the table next to the laptop is my breakfast: a one-liter evian spring water, an apple, and some almond cakes. It's a nice snack and a bargain at only 5 Euros. That price doesn't sound too bad, until I do the math. I forked over $50 for conversion and was handed back 35 Euros. But when I think about how thirsty I was just a minute ago, the water alone was worth every cent. Did you know they are calling them cents here now? Travel makes me parched. I think it was that twenty minute walk from the gate to the bank. This airport is municipal in size, with an international flavor. My favorite thing about being here so far is hearing all the other languages mixing together and echoing in the concourse. As I people watch, my head fills with silly guesses about the other travelers, "Maybe he's Russian Mafia. She could be a famous French ballet dancer or a secret agent - or BOTH!"

Soaring about the clouds last night, I drifted off to sleep, serenaded by Japanese pop, piped directly into my ear by my friends at Northwest Air. That music gave me such a vivid dream. I was walking down the streets of Tokyo, arm in arm with someone (guess who) enjoying the night air, the noise, and the city lights.

Pressed tight in my seat by armrests and the snores and heavy breathing of those sleeping nearby, I was startled awake at dawn when the steward flicked on the glaring overheads. Back in reality, my thoughts were all, "Where are my shoes" and "I'm starving!" The path to the w/c was kept blocked byt he refreshment cart, so there was no way to wash the sleep from my eyes - no cold water to pep me up.

My seat was right in the middle of the plane, dead center of a row of 5. Great place to see the show! My favorite act was the family of three seated in front of me. They were totally Bohemian. Think of no makeup or hair products - big beard but not in an Amish way). Their dark snappy eyes were accentuated by their long curly brown hair - making me think of gypsies. I'm going to say they were Italian for no better reason than I'm growing bored with guessing. I couldn't decipher their accent. What most impressed me about the couple was the ways they kept their small son amused on such a long flight. Way to go, Mom and Dad!

Speaking of parents, mine were so sweet helping me get packed and off to the airport. I hope I was not too much of a crank in my rush to leave. I will miss them over Christmas. Mental note to call as soon as I get to Germany.

All for now and more later!

P.S. If you ever visit the Amsterdam Airport in December, wear a t-shirt or be ready to sweat. The place is a regular sauna!