Amsterdam | So High You Can't Move
|Some of my favorite things was dinner with friends, and|
Anne Franks house.
It's a vibrant, wonderful city that whispers in English from every nook and cranny, often better than most southern accented Americans do. It's quite an odd phenomenon having spent the last six weeks in Brussels. Amsterdam is filled with gluttony that ranges from the New York hot-dog, to native Netherlandish food. One night we were greeted by a singing Italian man as we ate dinner just outside the red-light district, the next we ate from a curbside cafe as the smells and sounds of Amsterdam fell upon our table.
|One thing I didn't enjoy was the pervert on the|
Tram trying to bump and grind with me.
Which brings me to my point. Of anything that was taught and learned on this day in Amsterdam, I'm certain that this particular evening in question will be the one we remember in twenty years. One which I suspect that despite the unpleasantness at the time will be looked upon fondly in our memories. Not because it was wild or crazy, but because in that one single moment, eighteen people came together with deep empathy and aided someone in need. If only we can remember to do that the rest of our lives then I'd say that it was a lesson worth learning.