Journey to Amsterdam - 2nd February 2001

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Perhaps it was because of his collosal hangover from his leaving party that Martyn seemed so depressed in his first couple of emails from Holland. It seemed to me that he had become dis-heartened after only 3 days away from home (maybe I was trying to find an excuse to join him and interpreting his emails to suit my own purposes), so impulsively I decided to join Martyn in Amsterdam to encourage him to start his adventures and to cheer him up.

I decided to book a flight on Friday to Amsterdam on a whim during my lunch break on the Thursday afternoon. I was due to work that weekend, but being 21 years old, and lacking any idea of responsibility to work, I felt no guilt in telling my manager that I was skipping work for a weekend in Amsterdam. I arranged to swap shifts with one of my colleagues (for a price) and that was that: I was free to join Martyn in Amsterdam!

I had to travel to Oxford from Bicester on the Friday morning to collect my airplane tickets, as the travel agent in Bicester could not provide tickets at such short notice when I booked my tickets with them on Thursday. From Oxford I travelled by coach to Heathrow. That morning I had woken early in a panic, brought on by my fear of "going into the unknown".

The following passages are taken directly from my notes written that morning at home, on the coach to Heathrow, on the plane and from my first couple of hours in Amsterdam (apologies for the strange style of writing - I go from the past to present tense and back again frequently, talk in third and first person and break all grammar rules, but it was because I was writing as I was travelling in an attempt at Hunter S Thompson Gonzo-style):

"Tune in, turn on and drop out. I am halfway there, but why do I wake up at 6.30am worrying about my first steps in the unknown? I hope he's got my email - I keep thinking, over and over again. The fear becomes a dread. I can't get back to sleep. What if I don't meet up with him? What if he didn't get my emails and he has flown off to India? I have spent my money now, but do I want to go?

Maybe I was a little rash. No. Fuck it. I have to go.

My clock now reads 7.25am. My alarm goes off at 8.30. Shall I get up now? No. Keep those positive thoughts in your mind. You'll be forced into talking to new people - it will be good for you! With these thoughts in my head I get out of bed and go downstairs for breakfast.

I check my emails - he has responded! In his email he gives me full details of how to get to the hostel he's staying at. A feeling of relief sweeps over me; no lonely weekend for me!

On the coach from Oxford to Heathrow I reminisce about previous flights. God, how I have hated the last 4 or 5 flights! I have no fear of flying, but my synus' always seem to let me down. I remember the flight back from Majorca in 1995 when it felt like my eye was going to explode - just because I had a cold. And guess what? Yes, I have a cold today! Keep chewing the gum and sucking those Lockets!

The Globe [phone] (Hostel Martyn is staying at)

After my flight had been delayed 2 and a half hours due to bad weather (snow) we finally took off. This time I have been lucky: no problems with my ears or eyes - I could enjoy the sights from my window seat. Beneath us you could see the lights of streets and towns below, sprawled over the land. Then we hit the cloud before finally climbing above it. The clouds look so dense and gloopy from up above - a sea of rice pudding!

I arrived in Holland at Schipol Airport at about 7pm their time. I remember that I had told Martyn that I would be at The Globe between 5 and 7pm. All I had to do was find the internet cafe if I missed him. I hoped there was room at the hostel.

I picked up my baggage, made my way through passport control OK, then went searching for the train station. This was at the centre of the airport and had ticket machines scattered around. I looked at the machine and was confused - 650 for a ticket? No, it couldn't be 650 Gilders - that was £200! A dutchman who must have noticed my confusion tried to sell me his ticket. Feeling that I may be duped, I declined his offer and went to the ticket office instead. Thankfully the woman at the ticket office provided me with the correct tickets for the correct price!

I found the train easily and was heading to Amsterdam Centraal Station just minutes after landing. I sat in the carriage wondering how well the stations were marked. "Do I get off here?" I thought at each stop.

However, it was very clear when I reached the Centraal station. I made my way through the station and out into the open area outside. It was snowing and the whole area reminded me more of an East European city than anything I thought Amsterdam might look like.

I pulled Martyn's directions from my pocket. Head towards the high street until I get to the internet cafe. Suddenly I looked across the canal and noticed The Grasshopper Bar. That was meant to be opposite the cafe - Yes it was!

I was very near, but his directions became very sketchy after that. Keep heading towards the canal and over the bridge. But didn't I just cross it? As I headed past The Grasshopper I quickly realised that this was either the red light district or very close to it. Sex shops were everywhere. This didn't shock me, but the roads did. They had just been dug up and the snow had turned everything into mud and muddy puddles. My baggy green jeans were dragging through these puddles and my brown suede shoes were becoming soaked.

I turned down the road to my left and followed it until I realised I had almost walked to the train station again as I could see the Victoria Hotel through the alleyway. Someone was coming towards me, and just as I was about to ask him for directions he pre-empted me and asked "Are you lost?"

I replied, "Well, a bit. I don't suppose you know where the Globe Hostel is, do you?"

"No, sorry. But there is a hostel just back down this road that is very cheap", he answered.

I considered this, but told him I would try to find The Globe anyway. I was glad I did this as I walked through a previously unseen alleyway. A blue sign on a building saying "ESPN Sportsbar - The Globe". There it was!

Nervously I walked into the bar and asked the guy behind the bar whether Martyn was in the hostel or if anyone could get him. He told me that Martyn was probably out..."

This is where the notes end, because at this point Martyn walked through the front door of the bar with a group of people and we greeted each other. The weekend was about to begin!

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