Bingo! (Amsterdam)

The guys at the Coffee Shop who helped me find the milonga places. 

As you can guess from the heading, I have now arrived in the capital of the Netherlands. My approach took some time though, as I was not in any particular hurry. Along the way, I had all kinds of weather and a couple of creative solutions to accommodation problems, but mostly, it was a very pleasant ride.

The first day I got as far as Leeuwarden, a town in the North of the country where I once went for a tourism conference. I had no other reason for wanting to go there and it was actually a bit out of the way considering Amsterdam, but hey, I had the time and it was within an easy reach from Groningen. The ride itself was very enjoyable (and short!), as it took me through the seemingly endless plains filled with grazing cows and sheep, plus the occasional horse and pony to entertain me. In the orientation, I was greatly helped by the fantastic bike route signposting system that always points to not only the next village (which is not always shown on the map), but also to the next larger town. However, as I was to discover later on, this is not totally failproof either!

Arriving in Leeuwarden a bit late, I was slightly taken aback to realise that there was no campsite in town, and the nearest one was another 7 km to the North. Had it not been so late (getting close to 21 hrs), I would not have minded, but now I decided to look for another place to stay. Interestingly, there did not seem to be any hostels either, but a girl I asked on the street suggested a `cheap hotel` nearby. I was slightly hesitant at first, especially since she described it as a place where "people on welfare go to get drunk once they have collected the monthly check". However, it turned out ok, and at 30 EUR/night for a single room not a bad deal either.

Getting ready to ride along the Afsluitdijk, giddy with the excitement of having reached this end of the continent.

For the best part of the following day, I had the most incredible luck when it comes to weather conditions. Heading South from Leeuwarden, I was going to cross the Afsluitdijk, a 29-km dam that runs along the coast and connects the southern and northern parts of the country. The route along the dam wall, being very exposed to the elements, can be a really boring and tough ride, but today I was in the luck: I had perhaps the strongest tailwind of the whole journey, and it pushed me accross the whole dam in exactly one hour, which considering the two photo stops was not bad!

Just before getting to the dam wall, however, was another important moment for me. Just like two years ago, when I crossed the European continent from the Baltic to the Mediterranean Sea, I had now crossed the continent from the shores of the Baltic in Stockholm, to the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. True, the Dtuch do not consider this the Atlantic but instead the `Waddenzee`, but essentially, it is nothing else but a part of the Atlantic, and definitely very different from the inland sea of the Baltic.

Having lunch on the dam wall in the raging wind.

I felt almost electrified approaching the dam from the East, and the last moment before climbing up on top of the ridge had butterflies in my stomach. The fact that most of the Netherlands lies below sea level means that you cannot actually see the sea unless you climb on top of a dam can be confusing, as you tend to forget that it is there. But now, standing on top of the wall, I had the immense expanse of water stretching out in front of me. There were a couple of sandy islands in the horizon, but otherwise the horizon was immense.

I sat on the dam wall and had my lunch in the raging wind, feeling slightly emotional by having reached this milestone, another one in the journeys of my life. Once again, I was reminded of the fact that really, one can travel basically ANYWHERE by bike (land connections permitting of course), as there is nothing more to it than just carrying on. This time around, the achievement had seemed to come relatively easy, as after the hardships during that first week in Sweden, things had actually run quite smoothly.

In the late afternoon, the weather quickly changed, and the storm clouds that had been collecting began to release their load. When the rain started, I was already in the town of Alkmaar and thought it would be easy to find the campsite that I knew was there as I had done a search in the net. However, an hour later, already more than a little damp from the downpour, I had started to realise that either there was no campsite or noone in this town had heard of it. A cyclist I asked did point me to a so-called camp, but it turned out to be one of those pseudo-realities with enclosed swimming-pools, villas and minigolf grounds, with few facilities for campers. They would have allowed me to camp there at the dizzying price of 27 eur (!!), but with not even a citchen or common room to use adn the skies showing no sign of clearing I opted for another night indoors and checked into the adjoining hotel.

Watching Animal Planet on tv in my hotel room, happy to be out of the rain.

Thus, I had a lovely night in between clean sheets, making full use of the coffee-making machine, multi-channel TV and all the lotions and shampoos in the bathroom, even had some wine from the minibar. Hearing the storm rage on outside, I had absolutely no qualms about not roughing it out. After all, life is too short for (self-inflicted) misery!

Yesterday, getting to Amsterdam involved only a 35-km ride in the still raging wind that fortunately had not turned. Thus, despite the still ongoing drizzle, I was in very good moods, and even stopped a few times along the way to really take in the scenery. There is an undeniable beauty in these rainy plains; all the different shades of gray and green, the hundreds of farm animals huddling up together for warmth and company, the low-lying skies almost protective, creating a small, enclosed world. I saw a few other cyclists, but mostly, I was on my own.

The hostel that I had had the foresight to book beforehand turned out a bit rundown and smelling more than faintly of cat pee (probably this is due to a reaction to earlier complaints of mice in the rooms), but the staff are friendly and the location is good so I don't mind. However, they do not have communal computers so I had to go looking for an internet cafe to find out about the reason I was here: the milongas.

Funnily, finding a place that had computers for hire turned out a real hurdle, as everywhere I asked they pointed me to another location that had closed down or moved. In the end, I found myself in a Coffee Shop (which in the Amsterdam lingo is shorthand for a place selling pot and weed), and quickly had the whole place helping me in finding the milonga places on the map. That done, we ended up having a chat about how tango really is like a drug to me, a concept they all seemed to understand quite well :-)!

Yumi, the Corean girl I shared the dorm with for two nights. We had really interesting conversations about topics as wide-ranging as design, philosophy and dance.

The milonga at The Tango Academy, when I finally found it in the pouring rain (in my haste, I had not marked down the street number, just the street name), looked a bit disappointing at first. There were only about 5 couples dancing, and most seemed to have recently started on tango, but naturally I would dance with anyone. I did get invited soon, and had a nice enough time with some Dutch leaders.

But then it happened. Wow. I still cannot understand how it came about, but I had the most amazing dances of my life. Rodrigo, an Argentinian living here, had been watching me dance and finally invited me, and suddenly it was as if all made sense again. All those kilometres in the rain, the bleeding  feet and th rest. I knew this was why I dance. All I can say is: WOW.