More Amsterdam

Walking around Amsterdam is a little like the game of Frogger - you have to jump this way and that to keep from being run over by cyclists and trams. I learned the Dutch curse word reserved for near misses. I don't know how people don't die in the streets every day. The cyclists apparently believe they have the right of way under any circumstance and don't even wear helmets. Not even the infants being carried in the front. There aren't a lot of cars downtown and in particular on the narrow side streets. As we walked around, we saw city workers activate traffic blocks that pop up from the ground - so as a car driver, how do you know which street you can go down at any given time? I suppose there is a system, I don't know.

I would look up every now and then and see a sign that depicted a mother and child crossing. Mmm, a sigh and then walk on. One day. You know, I often had the thought that I was glad I didn't have an infant along on this trip. I would have no idea of how I would have coped. Here I am, partying all night long, chatting to all these incredible people, sleeping in and trying to to gawk at everything, eat the food I want to eat, see the sites I want to see, have the sex I want to have. And yet I see people all around doing just that (not the sex part) with their infants and young children. And I think that I'm tired after 7 hours of sleep!

On the Friday evening, DH and I were invited to attend the family dinner. There's a picture above. It was one of those multi-course meals that seems like a good idea on paper, but honestly, most of the people there weren't used to waiting that long for their food. Including me. And when the soup course (sans the broth) was presented with just a couple of meatballs and vegetables, some people just started to eat it. I smiled gently at one man and told him that they were bringing the broth in separately. Honestly, why not just serve the consomme with the contents immediately? La-di-da. It was fun, though, cause there was plenty of time to visit and talk with people. Turns out that the people seated to the left of my husband were from the same town in England that he grew up in. They had been married for 34 years and they were still in love and grateful for each other. So while hubby was engaged with them I spoke with the groom's brother and wife on my side. I knew that they had undergone 2 IVFs before finally conceiving and giving birth to their little girl. The husband's English was very fluent so I spoke with him more. I didn't get too deep into the details, but I let them know we knew what they had gone through. He told me that he thought it was harder on the woman. We also agreed that the adoption procedure is not as easy as most people think. I wanted to talk more to them about it, but it wasn't really the time or place for it. Still, it felt like we shared a common experience that made us more .... connected on some level. And yeah, a thought fluttered into my head - why didn't I get lucky on my 3rd try or 4th try - but I pushed that thought away in to the dustbin where it belongs.

I think I only had one person ask me if I had any children - I just say no and ask them if they do. I don't elaborate, I don't even make a sad face anymore.

The bride's father was there with his two young sons and their nanny. These boys were so beautiful, it ached to look at them. They were perfectly loveable and so well behaved. It must have been something to be there with all of your children around you. Of course, I thought of my own father, absent from all of his daughters' weddings. Did they know how lucky they were?

Eventually, with dinner and speeches done, the very young and the very old retired and the hardy were left to polish off the wine.

The next day was the big wedding day and since it was such a big honking thing for me, I will actually post a picture of myself in the dress that gave me nightmares. I swear to god, I hope that I never spend that much time obsessing over another freaking dress again! My wedding dress was less of a hassle. Brother!

Cool thing: clean bathrooms in restaurants! This chandelier was in the bathroom of the hotel - isn't it fabulous? Maybe I should do that. I love a comfortable bathroom. In Amsterdam, it seems the floor to ceiling doors for toilets in restaurants are the norm. They are so clean and so cozy and private, you feel so relaxed!

Not cool thing: narrow winding stairs that lead to the bathrooms. I always had to hold on to the railing and there's not enough room on the step for your entire foot which is a little tricky with a swollen ankle and high heels.

Fabulous Amsterdam

Now to Amsterdam - it was a whirlwind of activity. We took the train from the airport to downtown Amsterdam and then a cab to our first hotel - the SAS Radisson. Of course, the first thing you notice along the way are the hundreds of bicycles everywhere, on the narrow roads and chained to every railing you see. The hotel was very lovely, no pics of that - it was small, as are most hotel rooms in Europe, but clean. Odd that the window opened up into the atrium of the hotel. Little hard to get fresh air that way but what the hell. Cool thing - there was a trouser press and mini ironing board in the small armoire that held the TV and minibar. We just swung a compartment open and propped it up!

We checked in and then started to explore the area. We didn't go too far - you know our penchant for getting lost - and of course, right across the street is a "coffee" shop. The kind that has a certain odour emanating from it. They actually have a menu for marijuana. Apparently there are many different kinds and once you mention you're Canadian and from Vancouver, they know exactly what you want. Oh, I didn't indulge, but many a member from the Vancouver crew did. Get this - they have a glass enclosed smoking room for those who smoke it with tobacco. Whaaa???? It's mainly foreigners who indulge and it's banned in all other establishments. There's even a chain of shops called Bulldog.

Oh, to see the canals and the bridges and the side streets. So beautiful. Very much like London in that sense. The weather was pretty much the same - overcast, cool. I brought a lot of hot weather clothes that I didn't get a chance to wear, unfortunately. It's just as well, at least I didn't get all sweaty and miserable. It was hard to get our bearings as there are so many side streets that don't meet up with a major street. The best man for the groom, Xander (what a cool name, eh?) came by later to take us out for drinks and dinner and even he couldn't find the place he wanted to take us for dinner. His girlfriend, Tamara, joined us and she helped us out by circling certain places on our map for shopping and eating, etc. Almost everyone speaks English to one degree or another so it was easy to communicate with people. The young people speak a minimum of 2 languages! Not like us ignoramuses in North America. My high school French does not count.

I did notice that there are drinking places and eating places. The drinking places don't have much in the way of great food, and if you don't hurry along, you'll miss a good dinner elsewhere because a lot of restaurants don't serve food after 9:30pm or so.

Then after a couple of days, we moved to the College Hotel. The crew from Vancouver were treated to a free hotel room for 3 days courtesy of the bride's father. Yup, he's loaded. Being that she has a very famous dad, I can't really tell you who he is or show his picture, or this site will be inundated by paparazzi spies. Seriously. I'm even reluctant to use the couple's name. So in future I'll call them Suzy and Sam, ok? The hotel is located in an established Jewish neighbourhood and you can't even tell it's a hotel from the outside. Apparently, it was allowed to open for business if it kept a low profile and the white shades in the bedroom windows were pulled down. It was dripping with modern style and hipness. There are more pictures on the website.

"Housed in a stunning listed 19th century structure, The College Hotel Amsterdam was originally built in 1895 as a school. The College Hotel and restaurant in Amsterdam pays homage to this scholastic tradition - the staff are all students of the Amsterdam Hotel Management School, Bakery and Tourism, working under the expert eye of experienced professionals."

After dinner, Xander took us to the infamous "red light" district. I was a little reticent but undeniably curious. I actually put on my sunglasses just so I could have a barrier between them and myself. As I've heard, they were actually on display, and you could see small neat mattresses and towels behind them. As expected, there were 95% men milling around and down the narrow side streets - shyly looking at the girls in the window fronts. I was surprised to see some incredible beautiful women in lingerie staring right back out. I thought any of these girls could have found suitable employment elsewhere or even decent men to take care of them. Xander did explain to us that prostitutes there pay taxes and have excellent health care, but Holland was having a problem with white slavery. Women were tricked into coming to Amsterdam and then forced to work as prostitutes. There was political pressure to weed that out. Strangely, I didn't see any black women, but that doesn't mean they weren't there somewhere.

We went to the Anne Frank museum the next day. I had to see that place. I read Anne Frank's diary when I was a young girl and it had touched me so deeply, that I knew that this visit was the only real "must". DH didn't know the story, so I filled him in on the some of the details. We had to wait about an hour to get in, but it was worth it. By the time we had finished, we were overwhelmed with emotion. True, it was a little depressing, but on the other hand, there were some inspirational moments as well. As much as there was so much evil going on, there were courageous and inspirational people who risked their lives to protect the Frank family. Buddhahood in the world of hell, I call it.

Later that night, Xander hosted a cocktail party for "Sam" and "Suzy's" friends. There had to be at least 30 people. Pink champagne, and rose wine were flowing. I don't know why rose is so popular in Europe. I really don't like it, I find it's too sweet after one glass. We knew a lot of the Holland crew as they came over to Vancouver to visit Sam often. I adore them. They were so loving and kind, so down to earth. It was an absolute pleasure to talk to them. I only wish I could have had such a loving group of friends growing up. Then out to an amazing restaurant for dinner. It used to be a church or mosque or something. They knew we were coming and it was catered, but true to Dutch service, it took forever for food and drinks to arrive. We didn't mind so much, it was great to hang out and talk with people. I'm sorry I didn't take pictures of the place, I just wanted to unwind and have a good time. We got to bed really late that night and then on Friday, there was the family dinner. More later.....

(Sorry for the formatting, I've been trying to arrange some photos, but Blogger is acting up.)

First stop - London!

Okay, I'm back and have plenty to report on my European Adventure! We got back yesterday but we were exhausted after spending 13 hours travelling, so we fell into bed early.

First off, when we left for the airport for our departure, hubby said that because of his gold status from Air Canada we could check in a priority line instead of lining up. By the way, why do they make you go to those little terminals and check in through that and then do it again at the counter? Anyways, I thought, ooh, great, we don't have to line up with all those people. Once I took a look at our boarding pass, I said, "Seat 03, Seat 03, what's that all about? I've never sat in row 3 before!" And then I started squealing when I realized that it meant business class! Yay! That was hubby's surprise to me! He had been talking about how bad the flight was going to be to London all cramped up in economy. I had even brought snacks and a neck pillow, etc to try and make the journey easier. He had used his upgrade coupons (that he could have saved for business travel) so that I would be pampered.

Then we went to the Air Canada Lounge. Oh, free booze and snacks and magazines! Loving it! Then we boarded before the common herd and got champagne and orange juice! Huge comfortable seats that recline! Loving it! A menu and free flowing booze! Decent blankets and an amenity kit that had socks, cream and foot spray, etc. I tried to lap it up before we had to go to sleep. I have to say that in first class, the service is outstanding and they are even nicer to you than in economy. Why is that? We arrived in London and had to navigate our own way to the Park Lane hotel. That was a bit tricky by train and the Tube, but we did it. No wonder hubby warned me about bringing more than one piece of luggage. Then when we checked in the posh place, we were upgraded to a suite with a view of Green Park across the street. Smashing! Here's a couple of pics from the hotel.

Then a view from the street outside:

I couldn't believe it! We were in London together! I was so excited! We went down the street, bypassing my beloved Starbucks and went to Patisserie Valerie and had superb coffee and croque monsieur sandwiches. It's basically ham and broiled cheese on bread. One of the servers actually recognized my hubby from his previous business trip! Then off we went to get half price tickets to a show - The 39 Steps. We were pretty tired, but we wanted to stay up til 11 pm or so. We hung out at a nearby pub and then went to the show. It was hilarious! It's based on the Hitchcock film of the same name. The theatre was the Criterion in the West End. What a beautiful theatre! They even serve ice cream during intermission - how cute! Then we stumbled back home and fell into bed.

We saw 2 other shows, Spamalot, which was silly, but funny and A Brief Encounter, which was a little painful but inventive. We wanted to see Billy Elliot but it was full price and in British pounds, it's really expensive! Visited Harrod's, Tower of London, Trafalgar Square, Hyde Park, National Art Gallery and of course a visit to Northampton to visit my uncle and aunt. It was an emotional visit but well worth the trek out there on a Sunday. I did learn one thing - letting my husband do the navigating around the city was a huge mistake. He couldn't find his way out of a paper bag and he won't ask for directions! Grrr. I have to admit, the only times we get into trouble with each other while travelling involve getting lost while being exhausted and cranky. My ankle swelled up quite a bit due to the amount of walking and tripping over curbs. When I took over the reins, things went a little more smoothly. Still, it was fun and my only wish is that we were there longer. London is a very complex city to move around in, particularly by foot, and it does take a few days to figure things out. And just when you figure it out, you're gone. Favourite things: the theatre, fish and chips in the pub, visit with my uncle and romance in a swank hotel. Crappy things: getting lost, crappy weather, hot stuffy Tube trips and the worst Starbuck's latte I've ever had. I thank my bootcamp classes for giving me the stamina to negotiate the stairs in the Tube.

Sober enough to post!

Just a quick post to let you know the wedding was absolutely awesome! It was like one of those fancy wedding magazine deals - with all the trimmings! I looked fabulous - and of course, the bride was freaking gorgeous! I love Amsterdam and the incredible Dutch people of Leiden and I will be back! Now on to France!

My first blogoversary!

I'm writing this post early as I will be away and most likely not be able to post. Can't believe it's blogoversary time! My first. Holy cow, my how the time has flown! When I started, I just wanted to join in the Club that No One Wants to Belong To. I had a lot of stuff to get off my chest. Infertility had changed me in a way I had never imagined. All my happy positive self talk, praying and wishing, envisioning and affirming lead me to the conclusion that sometimes life is unfair and good people don't always get what they want. I was angry and sad and bitter and resigned. I was tired of being alone with my crazy thoughts and just wanted someone to just get it, get me. Honestly, it's no wonder I didn't wear black all the time. I was in mourning. Mourning for the child that only existed in my mind, mourning for the life I had pictured for myself, mourning who I used to be. Now I was Deathstar, barren and cold and nothing grew.

You embraced me with love and empathy and made all the right sounds to soothe my battered soul. You saved my life I think. And when I read the stories of the women out there, I was astounded,inspired and humbled by your stories, your journeys. I spent HOURS (and I do mean hours) reading about your lives, realizing that I was not alone in my bitterness, my sarcasm, my sadness. I cried for you, chanted for you, was eager to read your posts every day. You became a part of my life, my peeps. I wished you well, I wished you pregnant and I wished you delivered safely. I became educated and empowered. You gave me energy and courage to express what I could not say out loud. And then I found I could. You gave me the courage to come out of the infertility closet. Yes, my name is Deathstar and I'm infertile and going on vacation and relaxing DOESN'T WORK!!!! And neither does wishing I was someone else. Dramatics aside, there are no Hollywood miracles here. No fucking fairy baby dust, baby bumps, surrogates or swift adoptions from all over the globe.




It seemed that every time I thought I was standing on firm ground, it turned into sand and shifted, and shifted again. Life indeed is an illusion and I was deluded. I ranted and raved and you were there. Connected through high speed modums, connected by a silent pain, wounds that can heal, but you can always feel. You held the space. Sacred. Even in the world of hell, there can be Buddhahood. You proved that.




I just wanted to say thank you for reading. Thank you for lurking. Thank you for leaving your comments, your encouragement, your kind words. I've met a couple of you, talked to one on the phone and emailed and traded shout-outs with quite a few. And if anyone out there thinks it doesn't matter, I'm here to tell you that you're wrong. It does matter. Very much.




I read this poem a lot which can be found in this post. Sometimes when I can't sleep, I wish it was written on the ceiling in glow in the dark letters. I'm still in the fight with my fundamental darkness and probably will be until I can achieve enlightenment. Not sure what time that will be. I am not under the illusion that motherhood will "save me" or "make me happy". I know the answer is within me. I forget that sometimes. You do too.



So on this anniversary, I wish you all much love, much peace and clarity. The journey continues.....

Bootcamp and hair

Things are going pretty good. Bootcamp is finally over. For me, anyway. Officially there's two more days (today being gauntlet day, so sorry to miss that) but my classes that I paid for were up yesterday (and yes, I could have finished off the week anyway) but I got my hair done. And that's that. All that sweating would have messed up my Jane & Finch do. Sweating seriously messes up a sister's hairline.

I tried out a new place. It wasn't that far from here and the price was right. This place is crazy. It's part internet cafe/smokeshop, computer repair and hair supply. I actually drove by it the first time because I was looking for a typical hairdresser's storefront and awning. The wigs in the front was somewhat obscured by the security grill, international moneygram and lotto/internet /computer repair signage. I walk in there and am pleased to find that they do indeed do hair there and had tons of hair packages all over the place. Of course, it was more expensive than Toronto but not as expensive as it could have been. It's run by a very enterprising Nigerian family. The young woman I talked to swats her kid on the behind for stepping on the back of her brand new running shoes and then asks me how she can help me. Okay. Well, the braids on her head looked good, I checked out her book and she seemed eager for new business. It's not typically the type of place I like to go to, she's a little rough around the edges but she reminded me of my old hairdressers in Toronto. And did I mention the price was right? She gets points for being there on time and working quickly on my hair until it was done. Does it look good - yes, it does. Considering how much I've spent on getting ready for this wedding, I suppose I shouldn't be penny pinching, but I'm about tapped out. I could have lived without the gospel music/sermons and the constant loud chatter of Nigerian with her friend (which she did translate for me) but a girl has to get her hair did anyway she can. Girls in this town can end up paying to what amounts to rent money($$$) in other salons.

Back in the day, I used to get my hair braided by a girl who lived in subsidized housing with her kids in one of those huge highrises with steel plated elevators. She would stop to make lunch for her kids, do laundry, chat on the phone, sell cigarettes and weed to whoever dropped by. She was amazingly talented and if I had gotten famous I would have loved to have her be my personal hairdresser. With the amount of money she could have made , she could have moved her family out of that place, but some people are more interested in having things instead of doing things.

My other old hairdresser was the daughter of a good friend of mine and she is also really talented. She did relaxed hair. She took good care of my hair and I could always count on her. When I left Toronto, I actually had hair on my head. Then I moved here and it all went downhill. That's another hair story.

Back to bootcamp. OMG, I am not an athlete. I HATE burpees! Their motto is "We kick butt. Yours." Yep, that's pretty accurate. The instructor was a nice young man who moved like a coiled spring unsprung. Tested my mile run - shaved off 11 seconds to 5 min and 45 sec. Slow but good enough for me. 54 situps in a minute, lost count of my pushups, but I did 20 regular pushups and about 30 from the knee. Held a plank pose for 1 minute and 30 seconds which is an improvement of the 43 seconds when I started. Also doubled my leg squat. I've lost an inch off my waist and an 1 1/4 off my hips - if I had actually dieted I would have actually lost weight and more inches but kudos to me for perseverance! This shows that diet is more important than working out 5 days a week. Well, I haven't been on a scale lately, so I don't really know exactly how much I weigh. Probably a little more with the small Reese's peanut butter cup Blizzard I had last night. Fuck it. Okay and third of a can of Pringles. Fuck it. No spin class. Fuck it. I'm tired. I survived bootcamp and I have the t-shirt to prove it.

One more sleep til London!

Mother and child

My husband's nephew wanted to see his mum. DH tracked down some numbers and calls were made. Today I chanted for him to make a connection with his mother. She called 5 minutes later.


I went along with them to the neutral spot they had picked. I knew who she was when she smiled and her eyes went straight to him. It was like one of those classic tearful reunions on Oprah. They embraced, eyes closed, I looked away, overwhelmed with emotion. I faded away and went to the drugstore to look around. DH left him to go with his mum and other relatives. Of course, I was worried. In the past, there were threats of coming to "get" him, etc. but it was a long time ago and now he was grown. He's part Native and doesn't know anything about his heritage and for years he didn't want to. Then he looked into the face of a woman who looked like him. He has a sister, a brother, cousins. I wondered if it would be too emotionally overwhelming for him but he was eager to go visit.

I also had to wonder if my future adopted child would have a reunion like that with his biological mother. Or would she stay regularly in touch?

DH gave him his phone and told him to call when he wanted to come home. As I've said, he's pretty quiet and doesn't divulge much to anyone except my husband. He knew he would call soon. He checked in with him a short time later and learned they had to take a bus to get to the mum's sister's home. He thought it was time that he made the choice to form his own opinions about his mother. Frankly, I've never heard anything good about her, but there's always another side to the story. Apparently she had been looking around for him on Facebook and MySpace and such. If she looked, at least she cared. If she responded so quickly to relatives' calls, she must love him. That means something. No matter what happened in the past, all judgments aside, there is an undeniable pull between mother and child.

I could see what it meant to him to see his looks reflected in another, his heritage, so long ignored. He wanted to know, he needed to know if she would be there for him.

I wonder if she knows how truly lucky she is.

Coming and Going

Who's coming - nephew in law. Going - me in 6 days. My husband's 17 year old nephew arrived on Friday from England. He's here for a week (until we leave) and then off to his grandmother's on the island. It's been 4 years since I've seen him my, he's grown, he's 6 '3" and now sporting a soft British accent. His mum is not in the picture, sadly. It's a long story, but I have a special place in my heart for him. This boy's history is full of tragedy and heartache and a couple of times we've had to consider having custody over him. But it was the prevailing thought that his father should step up to the plate and quit having people bail him out of his reponsibilities, so he moved to England years ago to be with his father, who managed to get himself deported. Yes, deported, that's what happens when you don't bother to get a citizenship and you frig around in the wrong province.



I've noticed he's still got the aloof quality to him at least as far as I'm concerned. I try not to take it personally. He answers questions but doesn't really initiate too much conversation. When DH is around, I pretty much don't exist, if you know what I mean. I try to be nurturing with food, but you can't really get to know someone in a week here and there. Funny, how that longing to mother and nurture someone is still there. I long for that connection. For years, I transferred that into my dog and with him gone now, there's this big hole in my heart.



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I haven't been doing to well on the happy pills, they really should be called freak out pills, because about 6 hours after I take them, I start to get this jittery, butterfly feeling in the stomach feeling. The whole dress thing is a perfect example. I became completely overwhelmed with it, almost became unhinged with anxiety. The doctor warned me that would happen, but this is ridiculous, when is it going to go away? I'm not supposed to drink when I'm on it, but hell, it's the only thing that calms me down. I'm going to the doctor tomorrow.



Even bootcamp is making me anxious. I seem to be getting worse, not better. I'm not a very fast runner, perhaps it's my exercise induced asthma, but the faster I try to run, the harder it is on my lungs. If I slowly jog, I can get to point A and back no problem, but I'm tired of being last. The group has already moved on to some other set of drills and I'm always playing catch up. I also have started perspiring a hell of a lot more, which could mean I'm getting fitter or it's a side effect of the Wellbutrin. I'm thinking it's a side effect; I've become really self conscious about it. The sweat just pours off my forehead and splashes into my eyes and I'm constantly having to wipe it off with my t-shirt or washcloth. I've got 3 more classes and then I'm going to get tested on my mile run. Cripes, I have a feeling, it's not going to much faster than when I started. We have one more urban gauntlet day to do - that's where we run up the bridge stairs 3 times (it's got to be at least a mile and a half in total distance) and then we start running and doing drill exercises between our two stadiums. It involves a LOT of stairs, pushups, lunges and squats and sprints at breakneck speed for an hour. It's not pretty folks and I breathe like a choo choo train. I can do everything for sure, but my feeling of victory comes when it's over and I'm still vertical.



Gotta run now. Pun intended.

Countdown to My European Adventure

Okay, the countdown to Europe has begun. Having failed in my search for the perfecr orange dress, (and piss poor planning) I finally decided to get one made. Years ago, I had a local designer make me some lovely items, but he's nowhere to be found, so the bride-to-be asked assistance from a costume designer from a show she had worked on. Surprise, surprise, she turned out to be the costume desinger for the show I was fired from. Great, thanks for the reminder. I was feeling crappy enough. Actually, she was one of the few people that actually showed me any compassion at all. She brought a bridal magazine and a sample (which was not the right colour), but I ended up finding a dress that I liked.

It's a tough thing to do because just because what looks good on the model doesn't mean it's going to look good on me. I stuck with an A-line skirt, halter style (note to self: pick up a push-up strapless bra that will perk up my boobs) She also thought I was going to have my dress copied from one of the dresses I already have, ostensibly because those dresses suit me and it would be easier for the seamstress to reproduce and cheaper for me. However, since I have lost weight, they don't really fit me anymore. And when I thought about it, the silhouette, though flattering to my figure, isn't all that exciting and special. According to her seamstress, this is going to cost a small fortune so why not get something I really love? I made the journey to the Indian section of town and found the perfect orange colour in dupioni (raw) silk. I didn't take a picture of it, sorry, but good news, after consulting with the seamstress, I will be going to the fitting tomorrow! Ah! I'm freaking out. I'm so nervous because I'm scared it will look dreadful or it will make me look like a giant blob of orange. Yeah, positive thinking, eh? It should look something like this:

or this?

I had no idea that there were so many bridal magazines and bridesmaid dresses! They even have this site called theknot.com. This is probably why when I got married, I decided to forgo the bridal magazines and just get one made right away. The choices are dizzying! Mind you I got engaged in August and married in November, so I didn't really have a lot of time. This dress will end up costing me more than my wedding dress (but my friend gave me a shwack of cash to help out - I LOVE HER!) And then there's the matter of shoes, hair, purses...... This is supposed to be fun, I should be having fun - when are these meds going to kick in? Right now, it's stress inducing and I just want it over with.

I saw my friend's wedding dress - it's just gorgeous! Simply stunning on her. Oh, to be a bride again!

Okay, I know you guys have travelled a bit: Feel free to email me some info or tips on Paris, London or Amsterdam!