My Comedy of Errors

After sitting on a plane for some 11 hours, with only a few hours' nap, it was perhaps not a surprise that my brain was not firing on all cylinders when we landed in Amsterdam.

Getting on the wrong bus was not my first mistake. It looked just like the one I'd missed, just like the one they said would be along in five minutes. Luckily I was relying on the navigation feature in Google Maps and got off at the first stop after I realized the bus was not following the expected route. As I handed my ticket to the driver to transfer onto the bus that would return to the airport, a gust of wind blew it out of my hand.

Back at the airport, I bought a new ticket and boarded the right bus. They provided a note with each ticket, explaining that we would need to transfer to a different bus to reach the city center; construction would force the regular bus to veer off on a detour. The driver of the airport bus knew the drill and made sure we all got off at the right stop; the driver of the local bus ... not so much. Having missed the optimal stop for my hotel, I had a longer-than-expected walk.

My hotel was conveniently located near the museums (and, as it turned out, boutique row). Relieved to have found it at last, my heart sank at the sight of a steep flight of stone steps leading up to the front door. Just as they seemed insurmountable, a passing gentlemen stopped and offered to carry my bag to the top. Chivalry is alive!

As I settled into my room, an email message alerted me to the first mistake I'd made in Amsterdam. “Had I left something on the airplane?” it asked. Had I? I didn't think so. What might it be? My e-book reader! I replied with a description; the airline explained how to reclaim it.

My addled brain somewhat revived by a hot cup of tea, I decided to venture out. If I could stay awake until a natural local bedtime, perhaps my body would adapt more readily to this new timezone.

The Netherlands, and Amsterdam in particular, is a world-renowned capitol of cycling infrastructure. Bicycles are everywhere. I have never seen so many bicycles. Space being tight, there are even floating facilities for bicycle parking.

The city was busier than I expected, the cyclists rode faster than I expected, and the rules of the road were utterly unclear. Tourists didn't always distinguish the bike lane from the sidewalk. Cyclists (and motorbikes) seemed to flow in all directions, rounding corners without signaling. Each intersection played out like a game of “chicken;” who had the right of way? No one appeared inclined to yield. Riders without bells whistled to get your attention.

All of this in street clothes, without helmets. This would not be the time or place for me to rent a bicycle. Walking was challenging enough.