I stumbled upon the annual Bruxelles Les Bains festival today completely by accident.  Wanting to procrastinate on writing my copy for as long as humanly possible, I took a walk down the street from the hostel and found Brussel's main canal (which is also pretty much its only canal... Amsterdam puts you to shame here, Belgium). Each summer, the canal-front gets gets turned into a mini-beach resort, complete with fine sand, volleyball, music, and tons of mojito stands. Best of all: it's free!

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I have a confession to make: I didn’t love Amsterdam right away. But I’ve actually never really loved something I didn’t hate first. After escaping the crowds of old British men who only come here to smoke stinky weed and hit up pubs, I fell completely in love with this city. I've met some kindred spirits (I see you, hipster chick in De Pijp shamelessly rocking out to her iPod while dance-biking down the street; keep the dream alive). I've even gotten used to—and loved—the techno parties ("Bla.Bla" at Studio 80 is especially endearing). It has been an especially beautiful week here in Amsterdam. For the first time since I arrived over a month ago, it actually climbed over 65 degrees—all the way to 80! This is a rare occurrence, and people take advantage of it. Every street, outdoor cafe, bike path, and park was buzzing.

This week’s research brought me to Museumplein. Along with the fantastic Van Gogh Museum, This neighborhood attracts the most diverse cross-section of tourists in Amsterdam. There are kids in strollers and teens in Bob Marley hoodies, and just as many rich old people as scruffy college students, all sharing the same green expanse in front of the Rijksmuseum. It was here (enjoying a chocolate muffin from Albert Heijn’s, of course) that I had an opportunity to reflect on what is perhaps the best thing about Amsterdam.

A family was eating lunch on the bench in front of me, and this guy—one of those scruffy, lone-traveler types—sitting one bench down started to light up some grass. Of course, students smoke weed in parks all around the world, but not next to an adult with kids, and not without being sneaky about it. My instincts made me worry for him. But he smoked his joint, and blew the smoke politely in the other direction, while the mom waited for her kid to finish his sandwich, then packed up and casually strolled off. No confrontation needed: everybody just doing what they do. This reminded me of a scene with a few Dutch kids I met. After dropping me off at my home late one night, they were horsing around outside my door, being loud, and I was being a Negative Nancy. “Stop!” I was laughing, “Someone is going to call the police!”  My friend turned to me, somewhat bored by my naivete, “Kat, for the last time. Nobody is calling the police.”

It took me a long time to learn that about the Dutch. I’m used to a typical college environment, in which bunches of young people are crammed into small spaces under high pressure, and everybody knows exactly who did what and with whom at all times. I’m used to drug culture based almost entirely on paranoia, and have always seen figures of authority of any kind as terrifying monsters. It’s been a nice break to come here. It’s not about the difference in drug laws; It’s more about a totally different attitude in dealing with other people.

I thought it was cheesy when Amsterdam was first described to me by its nickname “Mokum,” which in Yiddish means "safe haven." But slowly I’ve come to believe in this part of the city's mystique. I really do feel like (especially in some of the less central neighborhoods, in De Pijp, Amsterdam East, and Oud-West) I can just be myself. Of course young people want to go out and party, but sex and drugs and all the rest of it don’t have to be shameful, seedy things. As long as you don’t hurt anybody, I’ve found most Amsterdammers are respectful of everybody’s right to have a good time and act however they please.

Obviously, there are still problems in Amstedam. The city is trying to figure out where to draw the lines with its policy of tolerance, as debates over immigration and drug and prostitution laws keep resurfacing. But one thing I hope always stays true in Amsterdam is that innate sense of freedom you find here. I don’t have to feel like a suspect if I just want to sit on the grass and watch the people and the clouds go by. I’ve seen the police help more people than I’ve seen them molest. It's so nice to be able to stop worrying about who’s seeing me do what. Nobody cares in the slightest. What joy!

Just kidding, I'm not really becoming a local. Buuut, I'm getting there. I've had my first real bike accident (a drunk--maybe even crunk--middle-aged cyclist careening out of Leidseplein gave me some pretty impressive bruises last weekend). And four seperate times in the last week, tourists have stopped to take pictures of me and mijn fiets (that's "my bike"!) cruising by. First, of course, I checked for wardrobe malfunction, but then I realized, they must think I'm Dutch! Take that, gorgeous blonde chicks with long legs! I can play your game, too!

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Munchies in Amsterdam? Yikes. This could end poorly for you, my friend. During the day, the city is packed with cheap and tasty sandwich joints and cute cafes if you need a snack (not to mention awesome restaurants for nice meals, and the all-powerful, life-giving glory that is Albert Heijn).

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