Amsterdam

Sometimes I suppose it is ironic how things happen in the way that you somehow in the back of your mind wish that they would or hope that they will. Not four weeks ago was I in the Amsterdam airport, looking out over a picturesque urban-suburban-scape of quaint houses and roads and trees, thinking that wow this looks so different from India. And I sat in the airport talking to the show-trapese duo from Amsterdam traveling via JFK to Colombia or Venezuela or somewhere in South America to do their show when they told me that, oh you’re only passing though Amsterdam, well you should really stop by and spend some time here. So here I am. One month later and on two days notice and I feel lucky for it.

Europe is magical. Magical is a tough word to follow-up. Yet I must say that the ride from the airport to my accommodations here in first class first world Amsterdam were infinitely different from my ride in scraped together India. And I love them both.