I apologize for leaving everyone in such suspense. We made it to Africa; we made it home again; and then I waited a month to write anything about it. But as I am better at articulating experiences via the written word (my apologies to everyone who has asked about the trip and received this response: "Uh, it was good, really good."), I thought I might as well blog the highlights.

Day One: Amsterdam

Preface: I arranged for us to have a 12-hour layover in Amsterdam on our way to Kenya. My brilliant thought was that we would sleep on the plane and wake up refreshed and ready to take on a full day of sight-seeing. I am notoriously able to sleep anytime, anywhere and under almost any condition. Unfortunately those conditions exclude sitting next to crying babies/screaming children who are too old to be screaming on a plane. Therefore, I got about forty-three minutes of sleep on the flight to Amsterdam.

 

In Amsterdam, before the exhaustion set in.

The lovely thing about Amsterdam is that it is relatively easy to navigate. You can take a short train ride from the airport into the city, most people speak English and you can see the majority of the touristy stuff on foot or by canal boat. We set out on foot at first, but then Bruce inadvertently wandered into the bowels of the Red Light District. If you ask him about this, he will deny it.

“What makes you think this is the Red Light District?”- Bruce

“Gee, Dad, I don’t know. Maybe all the red doors and the prostitutes?”- Me

“Where did you see prostitutes?”

“Standing in the windows.”

“How did you know they were prostitutes?”

“How did you not know they were prostitutes?”

Bruce was easy to spot in his orange shirt.

Fortunately, it was 9:00 in the morning and the RLD was not exactly a hotbed of activity. Even so, it’s not a place you hope to find yourself at any time of day with your old man.

After that we boarded a hop-on, hop-off canal boat, a decidedly more family-friendly activity. We saw most of the city that way. We hopped off for lunch at a sidewalk café. I succumbed to the temptation of something on the menu called an “American Toasty”. That was a mistake, but this espresso was the fulfillment of my European dreams.

Espresso and Heineken. Please note the absence of marijuana.

We visited some shops and Bruce had what he declared to be the best cheese of his life. He wanted to buy an entire block of it as a "snack", but I convinced him they probably had the same cheese in Kansas. We almost got hit by bicycles countless times before deciding to retreat to the canal boat.

I'm telling you... bikes. Everywhere.

Upon boarding the boat we had to squish into a booth with a lovely British family. But I was so tired, that despite the antics of the hilarious mum and a four-year old with blonde curls down to his shoulders, I almost immediately slipped into a coma-like sleep. I opened my eyes just long enough to see Anne Frank's house as we passed by, but couldn't summon the energy to get out my camera.  Bruce was dozing off as well, so we finally decided to head back to the airport. 

Thus concludes the pot-pungent first leg of our journey. Next stop: Africa.