Freedom means sleeping on a bench undisturbed

A few words about Amsterdam...
I really didn't know much about this city before arriving this morning. All I ever heard was that pot and prostitution are legal here and that people are super liberal. I once saw a thing on TV about it and a spokesperson for the city said that Amsterdam takes pride in being the "Freest city in the world." Today, however, I discovered that Amsterdam is not so free afterall.

It was early. I got of the plane in Einhoven and took a bus to the train station, then a train to Amsterdam. After a night on a bench in the Madrid airport, and all that movement when I arrived in Holland, I was tired to say the least. On the train from Eindhoven to Amsterdam there were grass-covered fields surrounded by flower-covered pastures. I was sitting there day-dreaming of laying down in the grass, then I got to the city, and it was all cobblestone and pavement. I walked from the train station to Dam Square (you heard me - 'Dam Square') and then walked as far as I could from downtown trying to find a grassy park. The best thing I could find was a bench next to a bridge by a canal in the middle on nowhere. I layed down on a bench with a book on my chest, then drifted peacefully asleep for a couple of hours.

I would have kept sleeping had I not been interrupted by someone pulling on the towel I had laid over my eyes. I slapped the hand, then it just kept pulling at my towel, so I jumped up, pulled the towel from my eyes and as soon as I realized who I was about to scream at, I decided to sit and listen. It was two police officers looking down at me. I said, "What's the problem?"

"No sleeping." the older of the two said.

"I was reading a book, " I answered.

"You were not, you were sleeping. You may not sleep. It is illegal."

I was flabberghasted. Taken abback. I sat there with my jaw open wondering how on earth it could be illegal to fall asleep under a tree next to a canal, but legal to smoke pot and buy a prostitute. But then the officer said one last thing as he walked away.

"You're making more work for me."

Aha! The root of the "free" Dutch society. Cracking down on drugs and prostitution was just too much work. It's not worth it to put forth the effort to try and stop something, so let's make it leagal in the name of "freedom!" Well, I just wish they would have decided to make a napping under a tree legal too.

Sleeping at the airport in Madrid

Tonight I´m going to sleep in the airport. Unfortunately I wasn´t thinking when I baught a super-cheap airplane ticket from madrid to Amsterdam. My plane leaves at 6:00AM and no busses start until after 6. So I had to make a descision... do I pay for a taxi to the airport, or do I sleep at the airport and use my metro day pass, which I.ve been using since this morning. The choice was pretty obvious.

No real point to this post, but I thought you might like to know that I.m tough.

Holy Toledo!

We took a day trip out of town to a city called, you guessed it, Toledo. You may think that Toledo is a city in Ohio (you may also think that Moskow is only a city in Idaho), but Toledo is actually the ancient capital of Spain -- and it´s beautiful. The city itself is surrounded on three sides by a rolling river in a deep gorge. It is the perfect position for a fuedel fortress. It is in Toledo that Christopher Colombus came to ask Queen Isabella for the money to go to India. If he could navagate through the windy streets of Toledo, it´s no wonder he could brave the Pacific.

A catholic black market... mmm

Okay, so Syndey is a Rick Steves Nazi and rely's on his advice to get around European cities. I am more of the school fo Jack Karouac, a free bird who travels one step at a time and give no thougth to the road ahead and only blog about the road behind.

Though i am reluctant to admit it, Rick Steves did lead us to a pretty nice adventure this morning. We walked into a back alley behind the Mercado Meyor, to a convent. At the convent, we buzzed the nuns on the intercom and when they answered I said "dulces" (sweets). They rang us in and said "It's 5.50 euro." We followed some signs back through the convent that led to a room with nothing but a revolving door/lazy susan. Basically, there were nuns behind the lazy susan demanding that we buy what we have in front of us for 5.50. As we stumbled to pull out the money, they kept saying "5.50!" because they couldn't see us (I can think of about 6 better ways of running their business, but that's what makes it so fun). We put the money on the table, but because they couldn't see us, and I didn't want them yelling anymore, I said, "I left your money." Then we walked out of the convent and it turns out that the "dulces" were actually pretty good.

Only in Madrid on the 29th of April

Well, I needed to go into more detail about the actual bull fight that we saw. We just happened to be at a bull fight where the Matador not only killed the bull (turns out the bull never wins... talk about a misnomber-- they should call it a bull execution), but the Matador executed the bull with such finess that grown men were in tears because they had never seen such a fight. To us, uncultured Americans, the only difference between this particular round and the others of the night was the crowd. It was like watching raja bell hit a last minute 3-pointer to beat the Clippers in overtime. Every time the bull ran through the Matador's red cape, the crowd went wild with "Ole"s. When the Matador finally ran the bull through with his sword, the crowd erupted, and trew their hands in the air, waiving white handkerchiefs and screaming. The matador recieved the bull's ears as a prize for such a good fight and then he took a vicotory lap around the ring was people threw their hats. At the end of the night he was carried out on the shoulders of his team and the crowd was again on its feet. We definately should have brought a white handkerchief.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/bullfights

La Bull Fight y The poor lady's shoulder

It's crazy. Madrid is crazy. Have you ever seen a man moved to tears as he drives his sword through the trobbing heart of a full-grown bull? Quite the intense experience. When we got off the plane, we went strait to Ventas where the bull fighting arena is and since we were a half an hour early I had a chance to talk to this old spaniard about what seats are the best. It turns out that seating prices are entirely based on whether you sit in the 'sol' (sun) or 'sombra'(shade). The tickets go for as little as 4.20, but can exceed 120 euro. We chose to sit in the half sun, half shade, on the highest level. Luckily we got to sit in the very front of the highest level, from which it feels like you are floating above the bullfighters as they perform.

As we sat watching, my little sister, Sydney, needed to go to the little sinorita's room and needed her ticket from me. As I reached for my pocket, my elbow hit the whisky vendor who was passing by. My immediate reaction was to retract my arm, but in doing so I tapped the 2 litre water bottle between me and my sister. From that point, all I could do was watch as the bottle fell from the bench to our feet, then roll from our feet, through the bars in front of us and fall about 20 surprisingly graceful feet onto an unsuspectin Signora below. We all cringed, but what a scene it caused. The old man behind us yelling, but reassuring us that it was an accident, the people below us, waterlogged and looking up to see the source of all the commotion. After about 5 minutes a couple of police officers, seeing that the lady who was hit by the water bottle was clenching her arm, came and took her off (to who knows where). The noise subsided, and people continued to watch the fight, and despite the deep feeling in my stomach that we were going to get in trouble somehow, no one from below even tried to confront us and the show went on.

Collide with Europe

Next week will in no way be like this week. This week I was working my quasi-grownup job (ie. I have to wear a collared shirt and slacks and send emails). Next week I will be watching a Matador take down a full grown bull in Madrid and prancing among the tulips of Amsterdam.

So how did all this come about? After all, it's not everyday you pack your quart-sized backpack and travel around the world. Two weeks ago I thought I'd be confined to my steaming room in Provo, studying accounting and working my somewhat-adult job before driving up to Seattle to do an internship. But my sister and Mom already had a trip to Amsterdam planned and as their departure date arrived, I started to get 'the itch', and my mind started drifting off trying to work out a way that I could be on that plane with them. In the end, of course my instincts got the best of me, I dropped all my classes for the Spring, and had bought tickets to Europe.

I have no idea what I've gotten my self into, but I live for this kind of thing. You'll probably hear from me again in Madrid.

Becoming a Utahan

I'm afraid my life is coming to a close. It is odd, the circle that my life has taken since I came into this world.

Let's start from the beginning. Birth. I was born near the rolling waters of the Jordan River, in Murray, Utah. My parents, at the time were living in my grandparents' basement. This was in 1983.

I moved away from Utah at such a young age, that I can't remember anything but my life away from it. I considered myself, in almost every aspect but my physical location to be an Arizonan. But my circumstances have changed.

These are all the things that I could use as proof of my Arizona-ness:

Exhibit 1: An Arizona drivers license (mine expires in 2048)

(This is not mine.)

Exhibit 2: My parents live in Arizona

(These aren't my parents)

Exhibit 3: Most of my brothers and sisters live in Arizona

Exhibit 4: My truck is registered in Arizona

(not my truck either- looks like it though)

Exhibit 5: My truck's title is in Arizona

A couple months ago, I could have convinced you of my Arizona-ocity, but now, many of the reasons already mentioned have changed.

First of all, I got a new title for my car, a new registration, and of course new plates - all Utah. My phone number is 801 and my two of my sisters now live in Utah (thats 3/5 Lambson children). Finally, my parents, who I always thought would be moving off to some exotic country in south Asia when we all moved out, have opted to take a job in Utah.

Here is the odd thing - what keeps me up at night worrying. My life started in utah - I'm in utah now. It started when my parents lived in my grandparents' basement - that's where they live now. It started on Novemver 18 - that was 10 days ago. Am I living on borrowed time? Is the end near?

I sure hope not. What I hope is that this circle represents childhood coming to an end. I can live with that.

Strangeness at the Capital

Washington D.C

So what's the deal with these scooter things. It was bizarre to see this tour group zipping along on their scooters. (The Dems must have taken the house)
Well, I had a lot of fun going to D.C. this weekend. I saw my friends Emily and Logan.

'Bout time I started up again on my own

The last blog entry I threw up was from Paris. That was a world away from where I am now. Then, my longest term goal was finding a place to stay at nights, or getting to another city by sundown. Now, I've let responsibility back into my life, and I don't quite know what to make of it.

This isn't much of a blog entry, but it's a start.

Cathedral at Cologne

DSCN1631, originally uploaded by Sam Lambson.

We left Berlin without enough time to get to Paris, so we figured we get halfway by going to Cologne. The cathedral was spectacular there. What we didn't realize was that Cologne was about the same distance from Paris as Berlin. So worth it though.

Fin (maybe)

Well, Paris cleaned me out, but the city was beautiful. Turns out my rent check (that I paid well before we came out here) just cleared and I hope I will have enough cash to get home.

This trip has been so great. I feel like we could have come home two weeks ago and still be happy, but there is so much more to see and do here.

We'll see how many days we can go without starving.

ps - please don't think we are going to starve - we'll be okay (poor, but okay).

Paris

A home in East Berlin

Tom and I took a full day to travel up to Berlin from Interlaken. Beautiful trains in Germany, by the way. When we arrived in Berlin, we were about to look for the cheapest hostel or camping we could find, but I was approached by a woman who has an appartment in East Berlin to rent. When we agreed, she took us to the house - the only un-remodeled appartment complex in the old quarter - and gave us the key. It´s a nice appartment, and she´s only charging us €30 a night to sleep there. Not bad huh. Berlin is awsome. Zer Gut.

Nirvana, Mecca, Jerusalem, Salt Lake City... and Gimmawald

After a night of unmet expectations in Interlaken (mostly due to the weather) we ended up taking off in the morning to a city called Gimmawald. A couple girls we met in Florence, Lizzy and Chrysanthemum, were staying there and we figured anything would be better than another night in Interlaken. To get there we took a train until it was too steep for trains, a bus until it was too steep for busses and finally gandola up the side of a practically sheer mountain side. We stepped off the gandola and there it was, the Mountain Hostel.

This was no ordinary hostel. It was a quaint log cabin style tavern with beds. It is also the local bar. It sits on the edge of a deep valley and looks out on the Jungfrau, the Eigr and of course behind it was the Schilthorn (where a James Bond movie was filmed). The weather cleared up somewhat and something inside of us told us that this was the place where we could finally resolve whatever it was we came to Europe to resolve.

We happened to arrive on Swiss National Day, so it was better than any normal day. In the evening, Petra, the hostel´s owner, lit a bunch of swiss flag lanterns and all 50 or so of the residents marched the streets of the little city of Gimmawald laughing and cheering to the locals who came out to see us wearing their traditional Swiss garb.

National Day ended with a bunch of fireworks, so close to us that hot ashes would fall into our eyes (it was a good thing -- nobody was injured). After the fireworks an old Swiss guy and a younger guy (that I´m not convinced was Swiss) started playing traditional Swiss music with two accordians. Everyone -- no matter where they were from-- joined in for the yodeling parts. It was an absolute blast.

The next day Tom, Walter from Holland, Scott from Tucson and I took advantage of a somewhat sunny daz and climbed to the very top of a huge mountain. The name of the peak is the Schilterhorn. We left at about 10 and didn´t get back until about 9 pm. It was a long day, but absolutely amazing. The peak is at 9700 ft. When we got to the top, we ate soup and bread at the revolving restrant. It was pretty amazing.

Something happend to our spirits in Gimmawald as well. It was as if our trip had been accomplished. We finally felt a connection to something beyond ourselves. Maybe there is something to climbing a mountain. It did wonders for Moses. It did something to me that I´m still trying to understand.

A.S.A.G (American Study Abroad Girls)

Our stay in Zurmatt was short. A day of skiing for Tom and a day of hiking through the hills for me. We left a little late in the day (debating on staying to see if we could get in good with the locals and score a free night´s stay), but things were so good there that we would never have left if we didn´t get going. We went to the next hot Swiss town, Interlaken. A bunch of kids in Florence were all heading up there when we were heading to Venice, so we thought we´d go to see what all the hype was about. I bumped into a Singaporean who could have sworn that he´d been in a hostel with me the week before in Germany (don´t ask me), and he told me that he was in Interlaken when all the American kids showed up. He told me that when they came his whole experience went sour and he couldn´t even get a good night sleep because of all the noise that they made.

That is an interesting observation. Tom and I have noticed that the American kids, especially the study abroad kids, do nothing to take advantage of being in Europe. They hang out in their American appartments all day, chat on the internet with their significant others and go shopping, then they go out and get pissed with all of the american kids at night, make a lot of noise, and make a bad name for our country. We bumped into a girl in Florence, asked her for suggestions about seeing the city (mind you she´d been there for a couple months). She said, and I´m not exaggerating, "I really havn´t seen much of the city," followed by a dumb stare. I was dumbfounded.

Yes, I am convinced that much of what kids get out of study abroads is a month of getting wasted the same as they would if they had no parents in suburban america. Meanwhile, the parents think their kids might actually learn something by living in Europe for a couple months.

Plans are for the birds - A word from Tom

I have not contributed to the blog enough. So this is my attempt to do better. First off I want to say that skiing in Zermatt on the last day of July may have been the highlight of the trip. I dont think this was emphasized enough. I am still considering going back to switzerland before the end of August.

One thing that I have realized in the last week or so is that living out of packs with minimal planning, has really changed the way that I think about cities and distances and just living in general. Waking up in the morning not knowing where you are going to sleep that night has become our routine. And as a result I now feel comfortable in just about every situation we find ourselves in. Tonight we came into the Berlin train station and started to look at Hostel addresses etc. Out of nowhere this old lady came up to Sam and asked us if we wanted to stay in an apartment she rented out. We followed her downtown, while she explained in detail the history of every building and monument we passed. Then she told us all about life in east Germany, how she had been imprisoned for 2 years because of trying to fake a passport out of the country. But how she still sympathizes with and votes for the communist party.
Anyway what I am trying to get at here is that things work out. I think people tend to err on the side of inaction, to avoid risks(I include myself here). But the way things have been working out on this trip, I am more and more convinced that when we act, while there will be setbacks, ultimately things fall into place and we find ourselves with opportunities we would never have anticipated. So stop reading this blog and go outside. Either that or come join us in Berlin.

Another country, another world -- the swiss alps

So we finally made it to Switzerland. A couple months back when we were preparing for this trip, Tom suggested that we hit Switzerland and I told him, "Well, it would be cool, but it's really just another Italy."

I was completely wrong. This place is like no other place I've seen before. We spent our first day or so in a city called Zurmatt, which is in the shadow of the Matterhorn -- you know, the Dysneyland ride. This was a seriously extreme mountain. Tom had decided to go skiing on a glacier and I took a little hike. Pictures would be the best waz to expain. Enjoy...

A midnight train breakdown

No no... our midnight train did not break down. We broke down after taking a midnight train. We left florence at 2 am on our way to Venice. We figured we might as well see venice for the morning on our way up to Switzerland because our train pass is valid for 24 hours once we get going. The train was unexpectedl^y packed and we couldn't lay down to sleep. I ended up sitting in the hallway, and no one else could sleep. We got to venice at 5:45 and made it downtown by 6:30. Venice was silent. NOt a boat in the water (and no cars because there are no roads). We got to a little piazza and I layed down my bags and fell down. I ended up sleeping in that piazza for 6 hours. So much for getting to Swityerland.

Florence

beautiful