The year was 2000, the season was spring, and the journey was from Marseille, France (my place of residence at the time) to Amsterdam, NL to visit the D-Rock. (as he was residing in the dam then) It was pretty luxurious for a student, TGV to Lille, Eurostar to Brussels (stopover to see family), and this same international train to Amsterdam. It was a long and wonderous journey filled with plenty of young, worldy, and often good-looking backpackers to befriend.
I mention this because its been 5 years and I still feel that journey in my bones. Those backpackers are still on the train. Speaking their spanish or italian or australian english. I even noticed an Indonesian family doing some backpacking today. I glance over at them often and when its not too creepy, I offer help in the form of directions. They’re defensive but thankful, of course, as right they should be — lots of psychos with blogs out there.
Its crazy to think of myself now, an amsterdammer of about 3 years, to then – when all I wanted to do was visit my friend for a few days and head back to France. Little did I know. Little do we ever know the odd paths we later take.