The one with the near-death bike tour, questionable art, and a Red Light District crash course I’ll never unsee.
3:00 AM – Symphony of the Suitcase
What’s that sound? A ghost? A stray cat? An aggressive poltergeist with a penchant for zippers?
Nope. It’s just my bunkmate, clearly operating in a parallel universe, deciding that 3-freakin’-AM is the perfect time to pack for her trip. Not discreetly, either. The suitcase was unzipped with all the grace of a chainsaw. Shower hisses on. Clothes shuffle. A padlock crashes to the tiled floor like a warning shot. Followed by a dramatic whisper: “Sh*t.”
Excellent. I can’t wait to function on two hours of sleep and blind optimism. lol
☀️ Sunrise Wander & Extortionate Pastries
By 7 AM, the Adventure Geek crew was out, fuelled by caffeine, carbs, and collective delusion. We strolled along the Amstel as the sun peeked over the rooftops, casting that dreamy golden glow that makes everyone look 30% more photogenic. Even the pigeons looked majestic.
We found a charming little café, not to be confused with the kind of “coffee shop” where the brownies come with side effects. ☕😳
One flaky pastry, a cappuccino, and a shocked look at the bill later, we collectively decided that tomorrow’s breakfast would be courtesy of the hostel’s “Full English” (code for: not-quite-hot sausage roulette). But this morning? Worth it. I’d pay €7 again just for that almond croissant.
🚴♀️ The Great Amsterdam Bike Tour (aka How to Flirt with Death on Two Wheels)
Nothing brings a group together quite like the looming threat of death by moped.
AmsterBikes, bless them, handed us our rides with all the casual confidence of people who clearly don’t fear for our lives. Some of us hadn’t been on a bike since the 90s. One nearly forgot how to brake. One mounted backwards (only joking). I’m not saying chaos erupted, but we were one click away from becoming a health and safety documentary.
The city was stunning though: canals shimmering in the sunlight, locals cycling past with toddlers in wheelbarrows, dogs, shopping bags and no hands (show-offs).
We breezed through parks (my favourite bit), paused for a very well-earned Radler beer, and collectively ignored the fact that flat city doesn’t mean no bridges. My thighs were screaming. My bum? Officially dead.
Oh, and a shout-out to our mystery group member (no names) who managed to dismount directly onto the pavement in a glorious, slow-motion collapse. You’re a legend. And your pride will heal. Probably.
🍽️ Bitterballen & The Bird That Hates Us
Lunch was… an experience.
We stumbled into a quirky ex-train station turned restaurant, think old-school charm meets unhinged parrot sanctuary. There was one bird, but he made up for thousands. He screeched, making me jump through our Bitterballen tasting session like he was auditioning for a horror film.
But let’s talk about the food:
Six varieties of these heavenly deep-fried orbs of joy. Some creamy, some meaty, some with mysterious spice combos. Dipped in mustard, dipped in sweet chili, dipped in… possibly regret (my mouth is still healing from molten centre #3).
The toilets? You don’t want to know. Let’s just say you’re not alone in there. 🫣
🎨 Street Art or Madness? Discuss.
A 45-minute trek took us to the Street Art Museum, housed in a warehouse that looked like something from a post-apocalyptic IKEA ad.
Inside: brilliant chaos. Mind-blowing murals, political satire, eyeball-melting colour combos… and then, things that defied all explanation.
There was a giant head made of forks. A half-melted clown. Something I think was a tribute to cheese, but could also have been a warning. Who knows.
We left feeling inspired, confused, and very aware that we were not cool enough to “get” all of it.
🌆 The Red Light District Tour: “That’s Not a Lamp Display!”
After dark, we met our tour guide near Chinatown. Nervous giggles rippled through the group. What were we about to see? Should we have brought sunglasses? A therapist?
First impressions: This place doesn’t tiptoe.
Cannabis, hash, and edibles are sold like cupcakes. Shopfronts glow in neon. The air? Thick with herbal enthusiasm. It’s actually illegal to smoke in public, but apparently, everyone’s too relaxed to care. Or too high to notice?
Then came the famous windows.
Women posing behind glass, red lights glowing ominously, while groups of ogling lads stumbled past on stag dos. It was part circus, part social commentary, and a little bit sad. Fascinating, yes. Empowering? Debatable. Unforgettable? 100%.
By 10 PM, the streets were jammed, the volume turned up, and my back was staging a protest. We’d clocked over 10 miles of walking and cycling, and I was ready to crawl into bed (assuming no one decides to tap-dance with their suitcase again tonight).
🚲 Summary:
- Legs = Wrecked
- Wallet = Traumatised
- Eyes = Seen too much
- Day = Glorious chaos
- Tomorrow = More of the same (minus the parrot, I hope)
Dildos and weed can wait. My glutes need recovery time.