November 7, 2002 - Page 2

stay in Amsterdam. What it is about this morally and legally indulgent city that could attract so many backpackers, I do not know. We finally located beds over an hour outside Amsterdam, which allowed us to meet many local Dutch who wondered what in the world we were doing in their sleepy hamlet.

When we finally made it into Amsterdam, it could have just as easily been Detroit if you removed the canals. Cluttered streets, overgrown advertising, and English—lots of English—made us feel halfway at home. Then a massive cloud of cannabis overtook the sidewalk and all the memories of Americana ceased.

The best sights in town are the Van Gogh Museum, interesting for its emphasis on transitions in the artists’ life, and the Anne Frank Huis, which manages to retell an old story in a fresh and personal way. But compared to attractions of other European metropolises, these merely served to justify a weekend in Amsterdam for the hoards of Brits in town.

Once night fell, I wandered into the Red Light District and blew all my money on vice and hedonism. Just kidding, Mom. We capped off the weekend by catching a soccer match at

the Amsterdam Arena, home of football giants Ajax Amsterdam. The home side easily dispatched of their opponent 3-0, with three exhausted Americans watching from the front row. When the overnight train pulled out from Amsterdam for Strasbourg, I could have slept soundly on shards of glass. Traveling will make a body weary, but with only five weeks left in my European adventure, I’m not complaining.