Amsterdam Part II

July 23rd, 2016

Day 2

Today we woke up early to go to the Anne Frank Museum, which was the most touching experience I’ve ever had. I teared up, just seeing how Anne Frank lived, how they fit all that furniture, and lived behind that bookcase. Her story is just the most touching pieces of literature. She had her dream come true, of being an author even if she didn’t get to survive to tell it herself, she still told her story.


Afterwards, we had free time before our canal cruise, which I took the liberty to do a little shopping before we took a pregame adventure to an ice bar. My first time at an ICE BAR! We entered a bar area, to wait to go inside the ice bar. As we waited we were able to sit down and have a drink for a little while. Once we got inside, we put on jackets and gloves that they provided and were led to the ice room. As soon as we walked in we could see our breath in the air, and ice all over the bar, and walls. We took 2 shots, to warm up and took a million pictures… After what seems like a very long time, we finally left, and joined the group.


As we rushed to the Canal cruise, we arrived to find 15 + bottles of wine, a trunk full of beer (Heineken) and a ton of snacks provided by our sweet Italian tour director. After hours of going through the canals and drinking a lot might I add, we were all pretty drunk and ready to dance. As we ended the night at the Canal cruise, a very small group of us went to the bathroom which we had to purchase a space brownie in order to use them. Which could either be pot or shrooms, I’m not 100% sure. However on the package said, not to have the entire brownie because it takes about 1-2 hours for it to hit.


Unknowing where the rest of the group went, we decided to go to the Euro Pride Concert, which we bumped our way to FRONT ROW. We danced, screamed and tried to sing along to music we either didn’t know, or were in a different language. At one point one of the girls, started bleeding from scratching a bug bite, but seeing that she was paranoid and slightly drunk like the rest of us. She decided to leave with a part of the group we found in the crowd.

And then there was TWO! Her and I decided to party in the Red Light District, after the concert. Yet, we didn’t know how to get there but that was the task. Eventually we arrived, after asking random people on the streets for directions. We decided to go to a peep show where some chick was in the center of a rotating circular stage, where you can actually see the other customers in the other rooms, it was an interesting experience to say the least. As we left the peep show, I felt a hand on my waist in the middle of a crowd, thinking it was just someone who wanted to pass, I moved away.

However, it was a man who kept stalking her and I, he was a middle eastern man in a leather jacket. Luckily even though we were both buzzed, we noticed that he was trying to remember our names and ages, when we introduced ourselves to a couple of guys standing outside of the bar. We booked it to a bike taxi, where this gorgeous man got us to our hostel safely so we generously took our space brownie and split it three ways.


We arrived at the hostel, where we met a couple of cute Irishmen. We talked for hours, and laughed, making fun of their accents (which were sexy, might I add) It was pretty funny to exchange stories, when it comes to slangs that are offensive to them, and offensive to us. Them saying “cunt” was the funniest thing. They also introduced us to Buckfast, Tonic Wine. Which was actually pretty good, I wish they had it here. We stayed up until 4am, which was the worst, because we had to be up at 6am to get on the bus to Paris! But I headed straight to bed without changing….

And off to Paris we go!

I remember…

Memory is imagination.

 Room to Write. Page 2. 

Begin with the phrase “I remember” and start writing. It doesn’t matter whether you stick with one memory or list several. You can retrieve memories from as far back as childhood (or past lives) to as recently as yesterday. Just record what comes to you. Don’t stop until you’ve reached 2 pages. 

I remember… how close I was to my grandma, my Abuela. I remember playing dolls with her and role playing Disney scenes with her at her small home in Mexico. I remember her falling asleep while we played and me waking her up every time, “Abuela, te estas durmiendo!” (Grandma, you’re falling sleep!) She was always so sleepy, my poor Abuela. She was always so kind, so beautiful, such an amazing seamstress. She also used to read to me, straight out of the Bible, but the only stories that stuck to me where the one of Adam and Eve. The other was of her father, my great grandfather being strict, and not allowing her to go on a date with my grandfather, my Abuelo. I think that’s how it started, I think that’s why I always felt so close to a man I never got the honor of meeting. He passed before I was born, but the stories I’ve heard, the pictures I’ve seen help keep him alive in our hearts. I feel like he’s my angel, looking out for me. Ironically before I heard the stories, before any growing on my part happened, I had my first word, which was Caballo -or Horse in Spanish. Which was my grandfathers favorite animal. He was watching over me then, he still is now. Even if we never met, I feel the love he has for me, through my Abuela. 


Amsterdam, Netherlands

July 22nd, 2016

Day 1

Arriving was brutal, 6 hours of no sleep and starting the day in a new place, with 5 roomies in a hostel and area I’ve never been too is the most frightening thing. But I am beyond grateful to have gotten the chance to experience this new journey. 


The exploration began, and to the ramps we go! Being in Amsterdam consisted more of walking then it did taking the ramps, then again I’m only going from 14 to 18. After exploring with our tour director which is the most beautiful Italian man I’ve ever met. He’s eyes are as blue as the sky and he greeted each of us with a hug, and a smile on his face. Oh the excitement it brought me to have the nicest tour director to start off this journey not knowing a soul within this group. We then had free time, where a group of us girls decided to go to the Heineken Brewery where we got to see how it was that they made the beer, the equipment & we got to enjoy some free beer as we got to lounge in a room where the ceiling was all beer bottles. Seeing that we all were on no sleep, and no food, those few beers we had got the better side of us, luckily we decided to eat some food at a nearby restaurant to keep ourselves awake from the misfortune of sleeping our first day and screwing up our hours more than they already were. 

Night time arrived, where we were taken to the Red Light District for a quick tour. Now that was an experience, one that I never even knew existed. Walking down these alleys, cellphones were not premitted or the women at the windows would run after you. Legit, run after you. They looked like barbies in a shiny new box that you just couldn’t wait to open. Most of these women were stunning, and seeing the men coming out of the rooms with a smile on their face was pretty hysterical. After this short tour, we all went our separate ways, a group went to the cafes where they could enjoy some coffee and weed & a few of us went to the Erotic Museum, which was an absolute blast. Seeing all the cocks on the walls, the pictures of people having sex, the toys, the boobs, it was all so much. Yet it was something that you couldn’t help but enjoy. 

What a first day it’s been. I cannot wait for tomorrow!

Terrifying Introduction 

I sat outside the white suburban house, watching as the only light slowly began to fade. I have been sitting here for hours. It’s time. I got out of the car and slowly walked around the house, opening the back door with the weapon of death in hand. I creaked up the stairs, up into her bedroom, its her, her, the most perfect angel. I stood there and watched her sleep, prowling around like a cheetah stalking his prey. I slowly lifted my feet one after another, walking, closer and closer. And with a small dreadful creak of the floor she woke up slowly, in the darkness, I froze, not allowing myself to make a sound; hearing her moving around, and with a sigh she finally stopped and laid there, she can feel my presence, the staring, the watching. My eyes stayed on her, until she finally felt comfortable enough to sleep. I moved in closer, grabbing the blade harder, imagining the screams of fear come from her mouth, the look of terror in her eyes, feeling her life slowly come to an end with each strike of my blade.

Dream or a Memory

A beautiful little girl stared at her reflection in the mirror; she was dressed as if she were a life-sized doll. The ribbons holding up her two pigtails matched the color of her dress and shoes. As she stared back at herself she turned, slowly at the tallest piece of furniture inside her grandmother’s house. She tried to reach the top by jumping as high as she could but she failed over and over again, after a while she finally gave up and began to play with her dolls.

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest one of all?” the young girl said as she role-played with her grandmother. “Why you are, my dearest Snow White.” Her grandmother said as she lay on the couch trying not to fall asleep, as her beautiful granddaughter wanted to play.

She sat down playing with her dolls as her grandmother finally fell asleep. Hours went by before she realized she was on the top of the wooden furniture looking down at her dolls lying there. How did I get up here, she thought to herself.

She looked over the edge trying to figure out how to get down in order to play with her dolls once more. All of a sudden she felt a push, a push as she was looking over the edge, as her screams filled the silence of her grandmothers home, she fell, faster and faster. Yet as she put her small gentle arms in front of her, the fall felt hours long, no matter how close she thought she was to the ground, she never seemed to land. The young girl opened her eyes to find herself on the floor of her bedroom, had she been dreaming this whole time?

Every year since the young girl was twelve, until the point of her twenty-fourth birthday, this dream was consistent. Since the year that her grandmother had gone back home for good was the year that the dream lived on, day after day, the girl woke up in a panic, her screams woke her parents once every year. Although they tried to calm her they couldn’t, although they told her it was a dream, it felt real. Years passed making that once vivid dream feel like a memory, or was it always a memory?