Random Traveller Hello and welcome to the long discourse on Rhiannon’s Adventures So Far, that I finally made myself sit down and write because of the impending DOOM that is called Manufacturer Default. My little baby is a lovely shiny white Macbook that I’ve decided to name Poodle. This is because its main function is to be pretty. However I will soon have to send it off to some unloving ruffians who will beat it and tell it not to keep randomly shutting down on me.

I love Amsterdam. It is by far my favourite European city and I’d love to live there for a bit if I ever get the chance. The Dutch people are amazing. Always friendly and helpful, although sometimes they can be so helpful you have to be careful. If you ask a Dutch person for directions firstly make sure they know the place you are looking for. Even if they don’t have a clue where your hostel is they will give you directions anyway. Walking around for an hour, at night, with luggage, in circles that include the red light district, is not fun.

The Flying Pig is an awesome hostel. Uptown is newer, bigger and laidback, whereas Downtown is groovier and has a bar and lounge area that rival any in town. They also make a gazette that tells you about the good places to eat, cool stores to visit and what free tours are available. This was my second time in the city and I didn’t feel like redoing tours, so James and I hired bikes instead. It was a great idea, I fully recommend it, but I couldn’t walk properly for the next 3 days. There are a lot of cobblestones in Holland and rental bikes don’t come with suspension.

I read somewhere that everything in Holland is small, except the people. This is completely true. Tiny houses, tiny streets, tiny ferries, tiny drawbridges and you still feel short. Supposedly until a few generations ago the people were tiny too. No one really knows what happened. James remarked that it had been a bit of a shock to his system. He’d come to think of himself as tall while living in Spain, now he was a short-ass again.

I’ve been musing about the possible psychological effect of having to build your country. They literally have carved it piece by piece, meadow by meadow, out from the sea. Once a dyke is built there are still 30 years of drainage and desalination before the land becomes arable. Then there’s the fact that almost every bit of rain that falls in the country has to be pumped out. I wonder if this results in a different valuation of what in life is important. In general they seem happier, more laidback and proud of their enlightened social policies. They also don’t dub their movies or TV, so all the young people speak fluent, if somewhat American, english.