Away today on a bus at 345 that will take me through Hamburg, Germany to and onto Copenhagen by 5 am tomorrow morning.
I’ve found a place to stay with a guy who seems unbelievably cool so that’s fantastic, since I’ve discovered that Denmark is not Holland for cheap hostels to stay in.
Glad I stayed here one more night as I finally got to wander the city last night relatively free of the hordes and the chaos. It could very well be that I will come back here some time (and maybe see the Van Gogh museum) but for now, I’m happy to go. I’ve seen Amsterdam, I’ve experienced the city. I think I’ve reconciled with why I was having such a hard time feeling comfortable here. Growing up in Victoria, I was constantly at odds with trying to be a typical badass punk kid doing her thing, and allowing the city to roll out it’s best behavior for people who didn’t actually live there. The resentment I felt towards tourists was overwhelming, the disdain for a city that would put it’s visitors before it’s residents. Yet, recognizing that tourism is the main source of income for the town and having to abide by that. So I feel like secretly the locals must hate the tourists, even while acknowledging that they are the bread and butter that helps the economy thrive. And so if they hate the tourists, it doesn’t really matter if I don’t think of myself as being in that demographic. I’m an outsider. But that’s really nothing new.
‘I counted minutes and subtracted miles. Just ahead, over the rolling wheat fields all golden beneath the distant snows of Estes, I’d be seeing old Denver at last.’ -Jack Kerouac, On the Road
As am I.