The Kennels of Amsterdam
The guy next to me on the flight from Cape Town was very talkative. At some point during the flight, he was complaining about his three hour layover, which prompted me to counter with the 11 hour stint I have here in Amsterdam. Apparently, another guy on the plane heard me because as I was walking through the airport, he came running toward me. When I say “running” that’s precisely what I mean. Poor guy was out of breath.
“I overheard you. [deep breath] I have a layover, too. Mine’s seven hours. [deep breath] I kind of know my way around town so, if you want, you can come with me and I’ll show you around a bit.”
There was something creepy about this bushy-eyebrowed man’s offer.
I passed. Politely, of course.
Instead, I found a company that provided tours straight from the airport into town. Committing a few euros and a few hours to the endeavor was, I think, much wiser than going with the other dude.
The trouble was that I was the only person in Europe’s fourth largest airport who expressed interest in this tour today. The company requires a two-person minimum. When I asked about a refund, they changed their rule.
Which was good because a front desk clerk back in Copenhagen told me that I shouldn’t miss the “Kennels of Amsterdam.”
“It was either a cup of coffee or you. My boss chose you,” said my warm and fuzzy tour guide, Bital.
Thanks, man. Thanks. I feel so welcomed.
He enjoyed telling me about his failed business renovating VW vans as much as he enjoyed sharing the history of his town. If you need a VW van in Holland, I’ve got your guy.
Anyway, the whirlwind tour through the City was great. We saw a windmill. We drove passed the Red Light District (at very high speed. I barely saw anything. I promise). Oh, and we saw the Kennels. There’s a lot of water here.
Anyway, I’m back at the airport waiting another few hours for my flight to Hong Kong.
Catch you on the flip side, friends.