When last we spoke (apart from that brief aside about Dutch food, that is), I was off to bed after a quiet night spent sipping cider in a tiny beer bar. I was hoping for a restful night after several insomnia-riddled evenings, but - alas! - it was not meant to be. Almost as soon as I crawled under the covers, shouting started in the street.
"DOOOOOOOOOONNY!! LET ME IN! I FORGOT MY KEYS! RORY!! CONNER!!!"
It was Irish shouting, which made it slightly more tolerable, but it was shouting nonetheless. After the shouting came the rocks, pelted at the windows (mostly ours). Finally, someone let the Irish kid and his two Dutch lady friends in - and they proceeded to wake all of the other Irish travelers up and talk all night long. I think it goes without saying that that was another sleepless night.
Our final day in Amsterdam was much like the others - admire the beauty of the city, wonder at the lack of ATMs, nightlife, and native food, do work. I did finally get Jon to watch The Hangover, though, which was long overdue. We bid farewell to our cafe/workspace the next afternoon, and left Amsterdam after making the discovery that McDonalds in the Netherlands sells shrimp!
Two hours later, our plane landed in Barcelona, the city that marks the beginning of the end of our trip. I'm not ready for it to be over. I think it should be mandatory that all trips abroad are at least a month long. :)
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