No matter how long and arduous the journey from Tucson may seem, something about the damp, cold wind hitting me in the face upon exiting Centraal Station joyfully reminds me of all our past experiences in this city. And suddenly, I feel happiness and excitement begin to sparkle from within my heart. Suddenly, I am jerked back into reality when we need to board an overcrowded tram. It winds through the streets, bringing us to the stop closest to our apartment. We pull our suitcases from the tram’s steps down to a sudden drop onto the sidewalk and begin rolling our way toward our destination.
We must have appeared lost as Kurt left me on the sidewalk with our luggage to cross a canal bridge and check out the street names ahead of us. A lady suddenly asked me if she could help us find our way. I told her the street we needed to find and she immediately asked her friend to use the GPS on her phone to help. Before she could give me an answer, Kurt returned to tell me our street was just a street ahead of us. We thanked the lady and her friend and continued our journey.
We came to a quiet street made of bricks. The sound of our suitcase wheels rolling across them seemed to echo between the Dutch buildings that surrounded us. Everything seemed so perfect, I felt as though we were on the set of a movie. Finally, we came to a black wooden door. Kurt turned the key and we held our breath. After nearly falling victim to a rental scam in Amsterdam during our 2013 engagement trip, we both have a bit of skepticism when it comes to the legitimacy of rental apartments. The key turned, the door clicked and the handle turned. Kurt pushed the door open with his knee and smiled at me.
Inside, five carpeted steps brought us from the door to a landing area and storage closet. In front of us stood stairs so steep, they almost seemed like a ladder. How we pulled up our suitcases, I will never know. However, I liked how it felt more authentic than a hotel, as though we were Dutch citizens returning from vacation in Arizona. Thankfully, our room was on that floor, although more stairs led to additional levels. We entered our apartment and saw directly in front of us the very reason that prompted us to rent a short-stay apartment in the first place: a stove and refrigerator.
A very small distance away from the kitchen area I found a bathroom existing only of a toilet and sink. To the left was the main room with wooden tables and two leather sofas. Windows looked out at the street where we had just walked. The wooden floors creaked as I turned to the right. I could see straight through the bedroom with its large windows to a small balcony. I walked into the bedroom and noticed another bathroom, only it didn’t have a toilet or door. It had a bathtub, shower and sink, but no toilet. The larger, center window had a handle that allowed access to the balcony. We opened it with the room key and stepped onto the wooden area.
Below us, we could see little patios decorated with plants. In front of us and to the left stood an array of apartment buildings, most of which also had balconies sharing the view of the individual gardens. Looking up and to the right, we could see the clock and top spire of the Westerkerk, a famous Dutch church built between 1620 and 1631. It still functions as a Protestant church and remains Amsterdam’s highest church tower (85 meters).
I sat down and closed my eyes, happy to be back in this city of constant action. The distant dinging of an occasional tram punctuated the sounds of bike bells warning pedestrians to move from the bike lane and the voices of many conversations in different languages.
“We’re in Amsterdam! Let’s go get something to eat,” Kurt’s voice suddenly woke me from my reverie. I grabbed my jacket and we headed down the street to find some fresh street fries.