Amsterdam--Day 1/2

So...at 4:30 pm Seattle time, I got on a plane to the Keflavik airport in Reykjavik, Iceland (I have no idea if I spelled any of this right. The flight was about 7.5 hours, but for some reason I wasn't able to sleep at all, so I just watched a lot of movies. Date Night is entertaining but not super great, fyi.

On my second flight (3 hours from Iceland to Amsterdam), my left middle finger started to hurt really bad--I've had some swelling on the fingertip for a few days, but it really started getting maddeningly painful and irritated on this flight.

(Current Update): Hurts like fuck. Also, I went to have it looked at and they told me I'll have to soak it for a day or so and then come back to have surgeons look at it and see if they can drain it. I guess on the bright side I can go around pointing at people because it looks like ET's glowing finger from the movie. (What did he have that for anyway? To transmit signals home? I really don't remember...)

In other news, Dutch is pretty hard to pronounce. Luckily almost everyone speaks English here, but it definitely helps to know a few Dutch words, especially because most of the writing is in Dutch. Also, it's kind of embarrassing asking people where a street like Rapenburgerstr or Utrechtsedwarsstr is without knowing how to pronounce it. (Also, I had to look at a map to even figure out how to spell these just now).

After an ordeal getting to the hotel with my baggage (took the train, then tram, then walked with my 2 big rolling bags, which would have been fine if there weren't crowds of people all over the place), I finally reached my hotel. I was a bit skeptical as it was much cheaper in price than a lot of the others I had seen while searching at home, and the only assurance I had of a reservation was a form I'd submitted on their website--which looks like it was designed in 1995.

Anyway, I went up to the door (it was one of those doors where the top and bottom halves can swing separately), and rang the bell. After a moment or two, the top half of the door swung inward...and there was no one there! But I heard a shout, and I looked up the exceedingly steep green linoleum staircase to see a middle-aged woman crouched at the top of the stairs with one hand on the pulley rope she'd used to open the door--less than 24 hours in Amsterdam and I've already discovered I'm staying in a puppet hotel.

More later...