Amsterdam?

Amsterdam makes me feel… a lot. Amsterdam makes me want to cry, but I’m not entirely sure why. It makes me want to speak to strangers, it makes me want to sit in coffee shop all day with a delicious cappuccino and read and stare at the canals. It makes me want to make art, makes me wish I had my pottery wheel and glazes and canvas and acrylics and rainbow pipe-cleaners. I want to take photos of everything I see, but I can’t bring myself to take out my camera. It makes me want to bake chocolate chip cookies with banana and peanut butter. It makes me confused and lost, it makes me want to be alone but makes me feel very lonely, it makes me want to fall in love, it makes me wonder if I am capable of truly loving, or if anyone can truly love me. It makes me miss Russia, it makes me want to go home, it makes me wonder why I decided to come in the first place. It makes me feel like I don’t know myself, like I don’t exist, like I am completely ordinary and yet oh-so-extraordinary, that no one can understand me although I must be so easy to understand. It makes me want to be a philosopher, makes me want to be a better person, makes me want to sleep all day long, makes me want to read the news. It makes me never want to eat again, makes me want to make beautiful food and eat like there’s no tomorrow. It makes me want to learn everything in the world. I wish I had another month to stay here, but I also just want to be somewhere else --- Anywhere else. Maybe this is all because I’m alone most of the time… but then again, maybe it’s better that I am spending time alone?


The other day I walked into a Dutch Delft-ware shop to look at the ceramics, and I talked to the shopkeeper about the clay bodies and the history of Delftware. Did you know that although delftware pieces always have a white base, they are not made from porcelain? Just an opaque white glaze.

Today I walked through the red light district to get to the oldest church in Amsterdam, which I had to pay to get into, so I just walked down the street to another church. I sat there and counted “Hail Mary” and “Our Father” and “Angel of God” prayers on my fingers, I went through them all 10 or 15 times and then did some freestyle prayer, starting with the prayer that my father helped us make up as children: “Dear God, make me a good girl, take care of Mommy and Daddy and Mary Claire and all of my relatives and their pets (and all of my relatives and their pets that are in heaven)…”

I like to walk along the canals like I know where I’m going (which isn’t that hard, actually). I have to dodge bicycles, and many of the cyclists are singing to themselves (or to anyone who will listen, perhaps.) When they speak Dutch, it sounds like they are speaking English --- only they are just making nonsense sounds peppered with the F-word.


I was taken to a photography museum by my wonderful host, Daan, to whom I apologize profusely for being in such a weird mood all the time. Sorry, Daan… Maybe next time we see each other I’ll be more like myself.

Tomorrow morning I fly back to Minnesota (that is, if I’m not held up in Philadelphia because of the storm that’s coming). I have no doubt that my emotions are going berserk partly because of my impending return to the US and to St. Olaf, which I haven’t seen for 5 months. Parts of me want to go home, but a lot of me wants to keep traveling for the rest of my life: To go back to Russia and live with my amazing host mother, go back to Italy and party with my good friend Laura, back to France and spend my days with my Sister Mary Claire, back to Germany where I can eat schnitzel and hazelnut kuchen with Madeleine every day, back to Belgium to watch Friends and laugh at Flemish people with Guillaume, to stay in Amsterdam and get to know this city with the help of my friend Daan.

I just made half a butternut squash for dinner, baked with butter and cane sugar (they don’t have brown sugar here, I don’t think.) I love my mother, and right now all I can think about is getting a Big Mac in the Philadelphia airport, Eggs Benedict with my friend Anders, and sloppy joes.

I’ll write a more conclusive post from home, when I can have more time to reflect on everything… I love you all!

Sarah