Let’s talk about
Amsterdam a bit, shall we? Or rather, the trip to get there.
You see, my
holiday as a whole was four days long, but two of those days were spent purely
in transit between London and Amsterdam. This is because I decided to use
MegaBus to facilitate my journey.
Now, I know what
you’re thinking:
Brett, you hate the bus!
You would rather walk a mile (or more) than take the bus somewhere local. Why
on Earth would you subject yourself to a 13 hour bus ride?
 |
| Me on the bus, on the return journey. |
In short, the
answer is because it’s cheap (round-trip tickets were only £20). But even that
low, low pricetag wasn’t the sole reason why I went this route: I also wanted
to get a sense of some other European locales, even if it was from the highway.
After all, it’s taken me 30 years to make it to Europe—who knows when I’ll be
back?
So, on the
morning of Sunday, 13 May, I set off for Victoria Coach Station at o’Dark
early. (Seriously, I left the house at like 5:30 AM!) We got a bit of a late
start, and didn’t actually leave until about 9:15 AM, but the bus wasn’t
crowded—I had an entire row to myself—and everyone was half-asleep, so no one
seemed to care too much.
After crossing
out of the London city limits, I started reading my book (Game of Thrones) since I was already familiar with the sights between
there and the Channel Tunnel. Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked up and
realized that we were actually headed for the ferry rather than the Chunnel!
Suddenly my excitement doubled, and I hurriedly stashed my book and started
soaking up the 'new' surrounding coastline.
With Dover Castle looming above us, itself atop the towering White Cliffs, we passed
through the Port Authority and boarded the giant ship that would take us across
the English Channel.
 |
| Dover Castle as seen from the ferry |
I made my way
onto the deck, and watched as we left England behind, with seagulls gliding
along in our wake. The ferry crossing itself was quite nice. I spent the entire
time just traveling back and forth along the ship, staring at the shrinking
English coast one minute and the growing French coast the next. I confess to
being surprised by how close they actually are—I expected it to be kind of like
Lake Michigan (where there’s just enough distance between Illinois and Michigan
that you can’t quite see the opposite coast), but for most of the trip I could
make out both bodies just fine!
 |
| The White Cliffs of Dover |
 |
| Calais and the French coast |
The ferry docked in
Calais, France, which—much as when I
went to Paris—I found myself wanting to explore further. It seems like a
charming seaside town, dotted with dozens of gorgeous steeples. Sadly, the bus
wasn’t scheduled to stop in Calais, so I didn’t have the chance.
We continued
onward courtesy of the A16, cutting across northern France by way of
Dunkerque.
(Notwithstanding Dunkerque's significant place in the WWII context, I was again reminded of my earlier trip to France, when I was generally
unimpressed by the passing scenery between Calais and Paris.)
Eventually we crossed into Belgium, which was a great thrill
for me as it was another country I could cross off my list as having seen! Now, there are some who might argue this point—for instance,
Nic doesn’t think it counts unless you stop to eat or sleep. I see the logic in
this argument, but for my own selfish purposes I’m going to ignore said-logic
and say that I’ve been there. It’s also worth noting that we didn’t stop at any kind of
border patrol point. This made me kind of sad because I was looking forward to
having a Belgian stamp in my passport, but I guess it just doesn’t make sense
to have checkpoints across all of the roads that cross European borders.
Upon crossing into Belgium, we started heading east. Though
not listed on the manifest, we stopped briefly in
Gent so that the bus driver
could trade with another. We were given about 10 minutes to get off the coach
and stretch our legs—so now I can say that I have not only driven through, but
also set foot
on Belgian soil—but
since we were in a hotel parking lot there wasn’t much to see or do.
 |
| My only photo of Gent--just something to remember that I was there, however briefly, LOL! |
Eventually we loaded back on, and continued onward. About an
hour or so later, we arrived in
Bruxelles. Excepting the traffic, which was
atrocious, I thought the capital of Belgium (and the
de facto capital of the EU) looked to be a beautiful old city. We
passed the gorgeous
Nationale Basiliek van het Helig-Hart (Basilica of
the Sacred Heart), and I even caught a glimpse of the
Atomium sculpture before stopping at Bruxelles’ main bus hub for those passengers switching
there.
As in Gent we were given the opportunity to get off the
coach and stretch our legs, but this time we had a full 30 minutes and there
was much more to see. (Mostly, however, I just walked around the terminal and
surrounding area, as I was terrified of missing the bus.)
 |
| Out and about in Belgium...sort of. |
All too soon we were on our way again, cutting through
Antwerpen before crossing into The Netherlands proper. Much like the non-city
parts of Belgium, The Netherlandian regions known as
Brabant and
South Holland
seemed to be mostly farmlands, though gorgeous nonetheless.
Sadly, I didn’t see
a single tulip along the way, and I only saw a handful of windmills (though the
latter grew more frequent as we neared
North Holland).
We finally arrived at our final destination—Zeeburg P&R
Coach Park at Zuiderzeeweg—at about 9:50 PM local time, from whence I hopped on
one of the trams and headed to
Amsterdam Centraal Station, and then on another
that would take me to my hostel in-time for my 11 PM check-in.
 |
| Amsterdam Centraal Station (taken 15 May 2012) |
|
|
 |
| My hostel (taken on 15 May 2012) |
I actually missed my stop on the second tram because I
didn’t realize you had to both press a buzzer to let the driver know you want
off (as on a bus) and then a second
buzzer to actually open the tram doors (like on the DLR).
Fortunately, it was
only a short walk back to the Prinsengracht
stop from where I was, and I still made it to check-in in time—and,
somehow, even at that late hour it only seemed like dusk! There was plenty of
natural light to see by as I found my way back to Prinsengracht and then on to
a street called Leidsegracht, where
my hostel was located overlooking a canal.
After checking-in, I realized how hungry I was. And, since
the sun still hadn’t completely disappeared—again, it was about 11 PM at this
point—I made my way out to find food. I quickly found a place serving
vlaamse frites (i.e., fries/chips
drowning in mayo) and made a fast, cheap meal out of that!
Having found a quick meal and drink, I returned to the hostel and hit the hay
in preparation for the next day’s adventures—but more on that later!
[NB: Unless I remember something significant that I forgot here, I probably won't post anything about the return-trip, as it's pretty much the same here but in reverse. The only exception is that on the way home I packed a chocolate-covered waffle (bought in Amsterdam the day before), which I wanted to eat until I was in Belgium—get it?]
