Before the Ship Sails: 72 hours in Amsterdam

It was 6:00 AM, and my 13-hour flight had just landed. I was now desperately wishing I’d selected the “silent ride” button as my driver talked for what felt like a millennium.

He opens the conversation with a baffling question: “Do you eat?”

“What?” Convinced I'd misheard through my haze of exhaustion.

He doubles down. “Do you eat food?”

I laughingly agree, launching him into a full-length monologue on the best food spots in the city. Before long, we were diving deep into race in the United States, women’s rights in Rwanda, and the healthcare system in the Netherlands.

What started as a tired, one-sided dialogue unexpectedly blossomed into a warm conversation giving me the Welcome to Amsterdam.  

Despite my obvious jet lag, my friends encouraged me to push through the day laying out their detailed agenda.

They rattled off plans for walking tours, shopping, local eats while my brain kept pleading for just a few moments of sleep. Nonetheless, we persevere.

As we kicked off our day-one itinerary, I slowly drifted away from the surreal realization that I’ll soon be embarking on a ship for three months. 

But as always, life continues. 

We started the day with Poffertjes (say that 3 times fast) – miniature Dutch pancakes dusted in powdered sugar – and they hit the spot.

It was precisely the kind of fuel we needed before launching into everyone's favorite activity: shopping. 

We drifted from window to window, occasionally ducking indoors as suede bags and stacked jewelry caught our eye. 

We explored block by block, pausing at every canal as boats glided beneath the bridge and cyclists pedaled past with children waving, “Hoi!”

It was pure serenity. 

But not for long as the midday snack called our name. We ducked into a local spot for a fix of bitterballen. 

It was fried. It was filled with meat. It felt surprisingly American. 

We pushed on, spending the afternoon laughing as we crossed street after street, admiring the narrow canal houses and sophisticated local style. 

We headed home finally, rest had never felt more well-earned. 

The next two days were jam-packed, yet filled with a surprising sense of tranquility. 

Our mornings began with a walk to the farmers market for fresh flowers. Music drifted from vendors' stalls and coffee shops posted signs with a message I’d never seen before: “No technology, please.”

How could they advise customers to leave devices put away – and they actually comply? It represented something we back home haven't quite mastered yet: the quiet power of being present. 

The days melted into dinners in town and gelato every night. Soon enough, we were back in our room watching Semester at Sea videos, mentally preparing for the journey ahead.

Before I knew it, departure morning had arrived and I knew Amsterdam would forever be etched in my heart. I hurriedly packed my bags, shared tearful goodbyes with my friends, and headed out the door to catch a ride to port. 

As we drove, my mind raced with thoughts of all the people I was about to meet, layered with the usual frantic travel anxieties: Did I pack way too much? Will I like the food? Will I make good friends?

Only time would tell. 

Although the drive dragged on forever, the 45 minutes eventually slipped away. 

 I had arrived.