Amsterdam and Haarlem: The Last Hurrah

It would be lying to say I don't feel a little gloomy on this my last night on the old continent. As much as I'm eager to get home and re-begin (for that is what my situation looks like from way across the ocean) my life in Toronto, I have already started to miss the freedom of my European caper, and the joys of a life lived almost entirely on instinct and whim. Walking home from a too-sumptuous dinner this evening, I was so put out by the thought of losing that liberating feeling that the magic of Amsterdam's spiderwebbed cobblestone alleyways and sparkling canals almost escaped me.

And then, of course, a big part of me can't wait to get home and bask in the simple luxuries of static life. An actual wardrobe. Make-up. A private washroom. A private room, for that matter (my current hostel in Amsterdam is overflowing with dude-bros who think everything is so 'sick' and 'dope' that they also need to add on many expletives to these most descriptive of adjectives to get their full point across).

Most of all, though, I look forward to the warm, sunny faces of people who have known me longer than a day.

Here are the photos from my last three days in Europe. 

Amsterdam

A giant chess board. I didn't linger long enough to find out if the players were chess giants themselves. Not that I could have recognized them anyway, I suppose.

Remember the "béguinage" in Leuven? This is Amsterdam's béguinage, or "begijnhof," right next to the Amsterdam museum. Seeing as I didn't get the VIP pass I got in Leuven, I found it much less exciting.

This was a stall in the famous flower market. The prices for bulbs were astonishingly low.

And here begin pictures from my two hour canal cruise. It was pricey but I got some good sights out of it. And I got to sit down for once.

Haarlem

Harrlem was very lovely, like a homier, Dutch version of Brugge. I rented a bike and cycled there rather than take a train, which made the whole experience longer, harder and more expensive. Funnily enough, I still think I made the right choice. I got to see some rugged Dutch countryside on the way, and I'm now tired enough that I should be able to sleep through both the springs in my bed digging into my body and the fervent vulgarities of my hostel's other clientele.

I managed to locate Haarlem's begijnhof as well, which bizarrely enough doubled as the city's red light district. Society of self-sufficient women, indeed.