The Black Leprechaun: Playing Catch Up

I'm back, in full effect, and this time I mean business. I was reading my last blog post to remind myself how long its been since I put up some stories & I was shocked when the reality hit me that I've prolly got 2 weeks worth of experiences to share. Some I'll have to condense (I say that now...), but hopefully the notes I've been taking in my journal will help jog my memory. Here we go...

Amsterdam

Okay, so a couple weeks ago while we were on midterm break, I had the glorious opportunity to go to infamous Amsterdam for a couple of days. Let me just admit to everyone: the real reason I wanted to study abroad was to get a chance to go to Amsterdam. I can't even front, no matter where I studied or what I would have to do, going to Europe equaled a mandatory trip to Amsterdam, plain & simple. With all this said, you can imagine the anticipation I felt sitting in the airport & waiting for the trip to commence. It was a smooth plane ride there, complete with deep slumber & a heavenly view of the clouds as we descended down to the Amsterdam airport. We catch the train from the airport into the city & I'm getting more and more geeked up for it because I'm seeing graffiti all over the place as the train glides through the outer towns. Anything Hip-Hop related is like butta (not Parkay, not margarine...) to me, I'm an easy man to please. After about 20 minutes on the train, illegally sitting in 1st class, we arrive in the city. Gorgeous sunshine is shining on me & it just keeps getting better as I see more Black people in one area than I had seen in 2.5 months. I mean it was beautiful, Black families walking together from store to store, clearly not tourists either. Working men with briefcases, young dudes that looked just like my little brother & his friends, women pushing strollers, it was just something to behold. Then my biggest shock came when I took my headphones off & heard them folk speaking Dutch. Just imagine walking up to a dude that looks like a Tyrone or Malcolm or something & trying to say "What's good, bruh?" and then that brotha busts out some Dutch on yo' ass! Trust me, I was buggin. Then the icing on the cake was layed on thick when I heard a brotha cruisin down the street bumpin' "So Many Tears" by 2Pac. Come on, man! I am home.

Ok, back to the city itself. And please don't be misled, there were more Black people than Dublin, but the city is by no means a Chocolate City. There were people on bikes everywhere, they even had special bike lanes on the sidewalks where bikers would run your tail over if you got in their way. No of that pedestrian right of way BS, them bikers had full intentions of playin chicken with you & watching you lose. Its sunny, there are Black people, bikers everywhere, a 42K marathon going on, I'm getting my first glimpse at the canals, and all of this is within the first 20 minutes of arriving. Dublin eat your heart out, I'm never coming back. Or at least that what I had started to think. Eventually, that thought calmed down with the quickness.

To give you a proper perspective on the city, let me give you a couple facts. Sexual innuendo is rampant, phallic symbols are unescapeable. All the metal poles in the city (you know the joints that are on the sidewalk to prevent a car from swerving into pedestrians?) are obviously penises. Also, there is a huge penis monument in the heart of the city. At first, its funny. But imagine spending 3 days staring at penises everywhere you go & not being able to get away from them, not funny anymore & actually does more to desexualize you than arouse anything other than disgust. Also, you see all the tourists crawling in and out of the coffeeshops at all hours of the day. Although being able to get a weed menu & be educated on the best ways to enjoy ganja by a barista is an experience that every person should have, the tourist aspect of it all did strike me as ultimately sad in a way. It stands in stark contrast to what mature consumption should be. Just like kids binge drink in America like they're gonna find the key to everlasting happiness at the bottom of the 15th can of Natti Light, tourists (myself included) crawl in out of these shops in search of a haze that'll ascend us to a higher consciousness. In neither case are these outcomes achieved and locals, who can indulge themselves legally everyday, are chill and mature when it comes to it.

I suppose you can tell by this point that Harold & Kumar, Cheech & Chong fantasy that I had was dashed with a stiff dose of reality. Chibbi (my housemate) and I stumbled around the city, checked out some cool museums, saw an improv show (it was aiight), crashed in our hippie hostel. No debauchery to report. We were in town from Sunday to Wednesday, so we definitely missed the party nights. Final thoughts before I post some pics:

The canals were very pretty, but every street & canal looks exactly the same. Its confusing enough sober, just imagine how it is under the influence.
There were no free museums in the city. Huge flaw. Almost fatal in my eyes. I'm from the DC metro area, we don't pay to get cultured. What's all that about?
The Red Light District. A man's fantasy playland, right? Wrong. For every one of these you see, there is another one of these waiting in the next window.
There were pretty women riding bikes everywhere. I am currently looking at bikes to buy my girlfriend for Christmas.
The Heineken Experience was closed. Major disappointment. After being to the Guinness Storehouse twice though, it was prolly for the best that Heineken was closed. Little compares to a pint of the Black stuff.
Dutch = an incredibly unsexy langaguage. It looks ugly on paper & sounds even worse. No wonder its not on anyone's radar to learn in school.

Next story, London! For now though, here are some pics:

The lovely Van Gogh Musuem (well worth the money)