Despite the red light district and all that it entails, Amsterdam, from what I have seen, can only be described in a similar way to the rest of the Netherlands I have seen; nice. Everything seems to work just a little bit too well, even wierd things that you would expect lure in otherwise. Oh, and clean.
Blurry, hazy contemplations about temptations, whilst dumbing down nicely. There are some snoring French bastards just below my dangerous top bunk bannister clothesline set-up. Looking down onto the indiscernable streets, flanked by fietsen, dappled with trams. Locals, as ever, passionate and (loudly) involved with the football on t.v.
Waiting to get on and underway with the rail adventure, to places with less familiar accents, less talk of skateboarding, more wilderness, debates on trains, sparkling stranger conversations, moments of unseen kindness and hospitality, and plenty of trains.