We didn't stayed long enough in
Amsterdam to get the pulse of the place. Not really. Yeah, yeah, yeah, red lights and girls in windows. And yeah, a drifting scent on the wind. But mostly, it was a pretty walk in the rain with some tasty pit stops. Oddly enough, for a place known for it's canals, I did not take a single canal picture.
I had some of the tastiest food of the trip there: The classic
gevulde koeken (almond butter cookie), melt-in-your-mouth fried Kibbling at the market, and "pintxos" at a Basque restaurant.
But what was seared into me was paint on canvas. The
Rijksmuseum is just packed with beauty and
some of it made me come undone. I stood there crying like a-- well, like a mother. There's nothing quite like standing inches from a story of loss in paint.
