The Trip
first episode of the series "international adventures of Karl and Vitória"
In honour of October – the month of my and Karl’s anniversary - I decided to tell here today the story of our very first holiday trip together, two years ago. And, obviously, being the first, it was hyper-comical and potentially tragic. Nowadays, however, it marks the beginning of our international adventures (or misadventures). And even after quite a few of them, not even the “24-hour challenge” inside Munich Airport - long story... - beats the week in Amsterdam - or rather, in the Netherlands - in terms of comedy.
Well then. It all started around May or June, when I was taking my final high school exams (German Abitur). Karl was already in his second semester of university and was going to have his exchange semester in a few months. Because of this, we had the brilliant idea of planning a trip at the end of July to celebrate both our second anniversary and my graduation. A bit cliché, but the first destination that came to mind was Paris - and what could be more romantic than a week’s holiday in the City of Love? Well, a few days before we bought our tickets, there was a terrorist attack in the City of Love, which made us fear for our lives so much that we decided to leave Paris and its (lack of) love to the Parisians. Then the Netherlands came to mind: I was rereading Paulo Coelho’s ‘Hippie’ for the second or third time - curiously, in German, not the original Portuguese version - and since much of the story takes place in Amsterdam, I thought: why not? Karl loved the idea too. Tickets bought, hotel booked, everything sorted... or at least that’s what we thought.
What we didn’t know, however, was that this trip would mark the beginning of my “dispute” with Booking.com – another long story, which I may tell another time...
Since Karl was still taking exams when we planned the trip – I had already finished mine in early May – I ended up being responsible for buying the tickets and booking the hotel. And since, at 20, I had never really planned a trip on my own – except for the week I spent in Italy, for which I only had to buy the plane tickets since Sofia did the rest of the planning – I didn’t know yet that, depending on the radius you select in the search settings, both on Booking.com and Airbnb, you end up getting suggestions that... hm... aren’t quite in the area you’re looking for. Not knowing this, I assumed that any of the hotels that appeared in my search for “hotels in Amsterdam” would be hotels in Amsterdam. And when I saw a bargain for less than €300 for 5 nights, I didn’t even blink: I looked at the photos and reviews, the hotel had a super cute guesthouse vibe - and I never thought of questioning the juxtaposition of that countryside vibe with the bustling city that is Amsterdam. I sent the photos to Karl, he also thought the place was cute, and that was it: hotel booked, problem solved. Little did I know...
A few days before the trip, only to plan the transfer between train station and hotel, I decided to, FINALLY, look up the hotel’s address.
Yeah that’s when I started to realise what a mess I’d made…
Still in denial, I managed to convince myself that the little names on the map were NEIGHBOURHOODS and that YES, the hotel WAS in Amsterdam. The 48.2 km listed were not enough to make me question my own logic. Luckily for us, there was an INTERCITY train – yes, even the fact that the thing was called interCITY wasn’t obvious enough – which stopped about 10 km before the hotel – and even though I’m a cyclist, I had no idea how far 10 km actually was. Google Maps suggested we finish the journey with an Uber, which would cost around €10. Okay, fine, I thought. Still without telling Karl the exact distance between the train station and our hotel, I very conveniently just listed the route we should take so that it sounded reasonable.
On the day of the trip, we were both super excited: it would be our first international trip together! We bought cookies – oh, the good ol’ days when we weren’t allergic to soy lecithin – and water for the long train journey from Frankfurt to Amsterdam, which would take about 6 hours. The train journey went smoothly, which is rare when it comes to Deutsche Bahn. As planned, six hours later, we were finally in Amsterdam!
The complications, however, began once we arrived at Amsterdam Centraal: when trying to buy a ticket for the INTERCITY, we accidentally bought only the CITYTICKET, which was only valid for public transport in the city of Amsterdam, and not outside of it - I was still in denial, but it was then, and only then, that I began to think that maybe the little names weren’t neighbourhoods after all...
But the INTERCITY ticket cost no less than 20 euros. At that point, we started to feel a little bit discouraged, thinking that if we had to pay 40 euros every time we wanted to go from the hotel to the city centre, we would spend more money on transport than on sightseeing. However, as it was too late to do anything about it, we bought the tickets and took the train, stopping a few stations ahead at a place called “Almere Oostvaarders” - we later found out that Almere was the name of the neighbouring town to the one where the hotel was located.
Yeah, definitely the little names weren’t neighbourhoods.
We still had to travel 10 km by taxi to the hotel. However, what we didn’t know was that we had been completely misled by Google Maps: we tried both the Uber and Bolt apps to get a driver, but to no avail. After a few minutes, Karl’s phone died - and that’s when the anxiety started to kick in: my phone was also running low on battery; we were there with our hand luggage in an unfamiliar place, not knowing the local language nor how we would get to the hotel. On top of that, it was starting to get dark. I did the first thing that came to mind: I searched for “radio taxi Amsterdam” and called the first number that appeared on the list (at no extra cost, thanks to the EU and free roaming). Karl had a minor panic attack, already thinking about how much this whole thing would cost us in the end, but what else could we do? Fifteen minutes later, the taxi arrived. Hallelujah!
The whole journey, honestly, took no more than 10 minutes. And for less than 10 minutes, we had to pay 80 euros.
Yeah.
Now Karl’s panic makes more sense, no?
A little calculation:
2*20€+80€=120€
A hundred and twenty euros ONLY TO GET TO THE HOTEL.
The funniest thing is when scammers try to pretend that their price is actually excellent and completely reasonable. In the driver’s words: “You were very lucky, if you had caught a scammer, this trip would have cost more than €120” - you don’t have to be a genius to realise how absurd this statement is. We thanked him for his “courtesy”, picked up our bags, and entered the hotel. The first thing we asked the receptionist was the average price of a taxi ride from Almere Oostvaarders to there. And, surprise surprise: it wasn’t €80, let alone €120.
The hotel was actually the only thing that really lived up to our expectations: super cute, with a chalet-like vibe, right in the middle of greenery. Pleasant. But we were 20-year-olds, not a couple in their 60s taking a holiday to enjoy the Dutch countryside. We wanted to see the museums, the sights, the nightlife of Amsterdam. But at the same time, we were students without much money to spend - and certainly not willing to spend €120 a day just on transport. So we had the brilliant idea...
…of renting city bikes in Amsterdam and doing the whole journey by bike!
In our defence, at the time the idea seemed perfect and wonderful: it was July, the end of summer, the temperatures were quite pleasant - and we had been wanting to go on a bike tour for a while. Why not?
And, honestly, it wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t been completely fooled by Google Maps, as I said earlier.
Completely convinced of the idea, we left the next day for Amsterdam - this time walking to Almere Oostvaarders station instead of taking the taxi. A very relaxing walk of almost two and a half hours, and definitely much better than paying €80. Another 40 minutes on the INTERCITY, and we were back at Amsterdam Centraal. We found a little shop online that rented bicycles for €10 a day - which, according to our calculations, would ultimately be the same price as the round trip on the INTERCITY if we rented the bikes from Tuesday to Thursday. A perfect plan.
As we still had two and a half hours to cycle back to the hotel and didn’t want to have to return in the dark, we ended up not spending much time in Amsterdam - which, in the end, wasn’t such a bad thing, as I found the city a little too crowded and busy for my taste. Basically, we arrived, walked around the centre a bit – which reminded us a lot of Frankfurt city centre – had lunch, were shocked to pay €8 for a bad crepe – oh, city full of scammers! – went to the bike place and, with full bellies and empty pockets, started cycling.
A journey that would last not two, not three, not four, but FIVE AND A HALF HOURS.
Literally. We left at 7:30 pm and arrived at the hotel at 1 am.
The route itself started out quite nicely. Luckily for us, the Netherlands has several cycle paths that follow the same routes as the motorways, so we had no problem finding a route to the hotel. The problem, obviously, was travelling along it. At the time, I was still undergoing an asthma treatment with cortisone, so imagine how much I complained during the entire trip, sounding like that annoying kid asking, “Are we there yet? ... What about now? Are we there yet?”, mainly because Karl was riding ahead giving the directions (from our little snake, Google Maps). After two and a half hours, which was how long the journey was supposed to take, we started to get a little nervous and realise that this wonderful idea wasn’t so wonderful after all: if this was just the way back, how were we going to get to and from the city every day? Impossible.
At some point along the way, we stopped at a McDonald’s for “dinner” - since it was already almost ten o’clock at night and we still had a little way to go - and I decided to call my mother - who, like every Italian-Brazilian mother, was very nervous as it was the first time her eldest daughter had travelled alone like this - and, in the lightest and most carefree way possible, tell her about the drama at the hotel and that our trip had turned into a bike tour of Holland.
“But how long will it take you to get to the hotel? You’re not going to be cycling in the middle of the night, are you?”
“According to Google Maps, it’s still an hour away, so we should be arriving soon”, I replied with the utmost conviction. Not very convinced, actually, since Google Maps had been showing that 1 hour for an hour already...
But, as I didn’t want my mother to have a heart attack, I decided to spare her this small detail.
We started cycling again. And when I saw that the 1 hour estimated by Google Maps wasn’t decreasing, no matter how far we rode, I started to get nervous.
“What do you mean this thing is still saying 1 hour? How long are we going to take to get there? It’s practically midnight already!”
“It says about 8 km to go, so it shouldn’t be much further... Vitória, is your phone on?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I just got a message from your father asking what’s going on, because apparently your mother has been calling you for half an hour and you’re not answering...”
That’s when I noticed my phone vibrating in my bag. And on it, about thirty missed calls from my mother. I answered the phone.
“WHY DID IT TAKE YOU SO LONG TO ANSWER? ARE YOU OK? WHAT’S GOING ON? HAVE YOU ARRIVED YET?” - a breathless, tearful voice answered the phone. Yeah... in trying to prevent my mum from having a heart attack, I almost gave her one.
“Calm down, Mum, everything’s fine, but we haven’t arrived at the hotel yet...”
“YET?? HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ON THE ROAD?? IT’S LATE!!”
“Yeah, I know... I think Google Maps gave us the wrong times...”
“YOU THINK SO?!”
“Mum, listen, the longer I stay on the phone with you, the longer it will take us to get there. I’ll call you as soon as we arrive, I promise. Just don’t have a heart attack.”
“IF YOU DON’T WANT ME TO HAVE A HEART ATTACK, THEN DON’T GIVE ME REASONS TO HAVE ONE! WHAT KIND OF STUPID IDEA WAS THIS, HUH?!”
“Tchau, mãe…”
As I said at the beginning, it was almost one in the morning when we finally arrived at the hotel. After calling home again to make sure my poor mother hadn’t actually had a heart attack, we both fell into bed, exhausted. The next day, it was unanimous: no Amsterdam and no bicycles for today.
We decided to take a day off and explore the area around the hotel. And, honestly, after all the stress of our final exams, we really needed to relax. And, especially because we had to return to Amsterdam the next day to return the bikes and our asses were literally ACHING from the hard bike seats, the break was more than necessary.
The good thing about having to do something for the second time is being able to learn from your mistakes: already knowing that Google Maps was lying and that the journey would take much longer than 2,5 hours, we decided to leave early so we could arrive in the city at a decent time (i.e. before 4 pm), leave the bikes, do a little more sightseeing, and catch the train back at a decent time, since we would also have to walk the 10 km between the station and the hotel again. As it was clear and the weather was pleasant, this time we were at least able to enjoy the route: it was very green, there were even some sheep along the way - which ran away from us when we tried to approach and pet them - and some small lakes, one or two with swans. There was a certain idyllic je ne sais pas about that landscapeA few times along the way, we came across blueberry and raspberry bushes and stopped to pick some berries.
Upon arriving in Amsterdam, however, the countryside vibe faded away, giving way to tall buildings, noise and – surprise, surprise – aggressive cyclists and bike traffic.
Yes.
Originally from São Paulo, I must admit that of all the traffic I’ve seen, none of it was on a cycle path. Once again, I was somewhat disappointed with the Dutch capital, and, in a way, happy that our trip hadn’t gone exactly according to plan.
Because, after returning the bikes, we were honestly so tired of the noise of the city that we didn’t even want to stay and sightsee: everything costed a kidney and was very similar to what we had already seen in Germany - only, obviously, more expensive. So, after lunch, we decided to go back to Almere, stop by the supermarket near the station, and pick up some berries and snacks for a picnic at the swan lake. Did it delay our return a little? Yes, but at that point, we didn’t even care anymore.
Honestly, that was the part of the trip that I cherish most in my memory: the starry sky, the smell of the bush, the simplicity of that moment... it wasn’t the kind of holiday we had planned, definitely, but it turned out to be much better: it was the first adventure we had together.
The most spontaneous and comical bike tour in the history of bike tours.
The hotel 50 km away from Amsterdam.
Bert and Lily - the two cows we encountered in the middle of our relaxing walk on Wednesday, which I was convinced were following us.
The scammer taxi driver who charged us €80 for a 10-minute ride.
Because, by the end of the day, things never really go just as we plan them.
Mishaps happen. Plans fail. People make mistakes. People forget to check the exact location of the hotel they booked before leaving on a trip. And, in the end, what we get out of all this depends a lot on how we decide to deal with these misadventures. We could have focused on the fact that the hotel was too far away and not enjoyed anything - or worse, spent our time blaming each other for what happened. But what good would that negativity have done us? Nothing. There was no way to change hotels or go home. Yes, sometimes we have to learn to make lemonade out of limes and be happy about it instead of complaining about not having orange juice.
Because, even though it wasn’t what we wanted at first, the lemonade ended up being much more fun than the noisy orange juice.
xoxo
the purple glasses girl