God Lives in the Red Light District

Last week I walked down the old, shop-lined streets of downtown Amsterdam, wandering in to whatever stores looked interesting, and talking to whoever would stop long enough to have a conversation with me. As I left the warmth of one particularly interesting souvenir shop, I saw a small alley running off the main street. For a reason more important than I knew, I felt compelled to go that way. So, I threw my bag over my shoulder and set off.

Caught up in my own thoughts, I wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around me. I didn't notice the streets narrowing, the lights changing colors, or the crowd changing from a mixture to almost entirely men. By the time I looked up, I was entirely surrounded by narrow doorways topped with red lights. Display windows lined every inch of the endless, narrow street, behind which almost entirely naked women were trying to draw in their next customers.

I was in the Red Light District.

If you don't know anything about Amsterdam, the majority of the tourists are there for one of two reasons: legal marijuana and legal prostitution. The Red Light District is always crowded, always busy, and always open. It is one of the defining aspects of Amsterdam, and I had been planning on walking through. But to suddenly find myself in the middle of it without being prepared? To look up one moment and see women literally selling themselves from store windows? To see the men as they walked out of the brothels? Some of them still pulling up their zippers?

I cried.

I wanted to vomit.

I want to do both every time I think about it.

I wandered around the district for hours and never walked down the same street twice. The sheer size is shocking. I prayed and thought and tried to process the shock of my heartbreak. Heartbreak for the men who do not know or care how much damage they cause. My heart breaking for women who sell themselves, who don't know that they are worth so much more than sex. Who don't know that they deserve so much better than to be used up and thrown away. My heart broke for their stories, where they came from and how they got to be where they are.

I look at them and all I want is to hear their stories.

I started crying again when I realized that I was the only one standing on that crowded street that saw them as people. People worth knowing, worth pursuing, worth fighting for. Someone beautiful, worth cherishing and protecting.

It broke my heart even more to see the other people who, like me, were just walking around. How they laughed and jeered at the women behind the glass. Listening to them talk about them like they were less than human. Listening to them believe that they were better than the prostitutes, better than the men walking out of the brothels.

But how different are we, really? How often do we sell ourselves? How often do we use other people for our own benefit? We may not like it, but we are one in the same.

As I thought about all these things, I started feeling a little hopeless. An almost suffocating kind of heartbreak lay over me, and I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't fix it, couldn't change it, couldn't save them. I would have given anything in the world to have been able to do something.

But that's just it.

In the middle of the Red Light District, there stands an old church. It is stone, made in the 12th century, and incredibly beautiful. When I stumbled on it, I was in awe. Surrounded by brothels on all sides, the source of more heartache than I have ever known exists less than ten feet away from the church. It stands in the middle of our world at its worst, to proclaim divine existence at its best. It has always been there, and will always be there.

Jesus was there long before I came along to be heartbroken by it, and he will be there long after I am gone. Strong and beautiful, he has always been there, right in the middle of it. He has a plan for them, perfect and wonderful and good.

I can't save them, can't even love them or know them right now. But what I can do is ache for them, be angry for them, be sad for them. I can let my heart be broken for them. Because somebody's should.

I wish I knew what God planned to do with this, because it is one of many different experiences I have had this semester, all with one common theme: humanity. He is teaching me how to have a heart that loves and weeps, breaks and rejoices for his children. How to look past the things that make us different, to see instead the things that make us the same. He has broken down walls and prejudices I didn't even know I had, and is fostering in me the kind of heart that is no longer content to sit and watch the world go by.

But that in itself is another novel for another time.

Amsterdam

I spent the end of last week in Amsterdam (that's in the Netherlands.) And because it is the first question that EVERYONE asks me as soon as they hear me say that, I'll go ahead and answer it for you right now: No, I did not smoke any pot. However, the smell of it did lay over the city so heavily that I'm not entirely sure I didn't smoke any by accident.

In other news: I LOVE Holland. So much. It was cold and the entire city was decorated for Christmas. (They celebrate their Christmas and 'Sinterklaas' on December 5th.) It was so wonderful. The city is small, so I walked everywhere, and most of the city still has its original cobble-stone streets. There are canals everywhere, and they are beautifully lit up at night.

They have these things called stroopwafels, which are 2 thin wafers with caramel in the middle (they are wonderfully addictive.) They also treat pancakes more like crepes, in that you have the option of savory, cheesy pancakes. Not just sweet ones. Their syrup is also closer to molasses in consistency and potency. It is delicious.

Their french fries are also ridiculously good. They serve them to you in a paper cone. They are huge, and doused in mayonnaise. I do not like mayo, but this doesn't taste like American mayo. And I mixed mine with ketchup. Yum! And they give you this little tuning-fork shaped piece of wood to attempt to spear the french fries... Except it's only about as long as your pinky finger. I think it's just a ruse to make you look ridiculous while trying to eat the piping hot fries.

Every inch of the city looks like this. It's amazing. I didn't even pull out my map for the most part. I left my hostel in the morning, wandered around for most of the day, and then pulled out my map at the end of the day to find my way back. I have figured out that this is how I like to travel. I spent my time wandering around, sitting and watching the world go by, and talking to people. I had no to-do list, nothing (aside from the Anne Frank House) that I wanted to do, so when I ended up talking to a shop owner for an hour, it was a highlight :)

Oh, my. There is cheese all over the place there. And yes, it is just as good as they say it is. And I was surprised that you could actually purchase those wheels in front of the store... they aren't just for show. Those are actually cheese. Why you'd need a wheel of cheese half the size of a person, I've no idea. But you can buy it.

I am obsessed with the houses. I could have wandered around looking at them all day. They all pretty much look the same, except they all have unique character of some kind. Love it.

The entire city was decorated like this. Christmas lights strung across all the streets, lights in the trees, lights on the bridges, everywhere. The entire city was lit up. It was amazingly beautiful.

This is in one of the parks in Amsterdam. First of all, I was surprised that they have parks in Amsterdam... It being so covered in water, I didn't think they would have them. But they do! And that says "I Amsterdam" in case you can't see it through all the people.

And I know you're wondering what this is... If you have any ideas, please let me know, because I have no idea. (The sign says 'tube vision.') It was in the canal outside the library. It made me laugh out loud, which then led to the people around me looking at me like I was crazy, which then made me laugh more...

Why, yes, there is a Dutch Chinatown. And I found it.

I was also unaware that there was more than one Madame Tussaud's. Well, have no fear world, I found the other one. It's in Amsterdam.

There are more buildings painted like this than not... I'm assuming it has a direct relationship to the legality of marijuana.

How do you not love that? How do you not want to go there? I loved it more than I can say. First of all, I just have a natural affinity for Northern culture. I love the culture that comes from cold places. I love the warmth and the welcome, the food and traditions that come from cold-weather places. Secondly, I loved how relaxing it was. I loved spending half a day reading at a café and not feeling like I was missing out on something else. I loved having no schedule, no cell phone, no existence outside of where I was. Nothing.

And I loved how much God taught me in all that silence. It's amazing what he will do with your heart when you leave room in your day for him. When you aren't so worried about getting from one place to the next that you're willing to wander down that random street when he calls you to. Because he did call me to wander down that random street, and I have not yet figured out how to put into words what I learned from it.

I'm working on it. I'll let you know when I do. :)

I Think I Might Be a Muggle

I spent Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of last week in London. It was so fun! I saw Kensington Gardens/Palace, Hyde Park, Knightsbridge, Victoria and Albert Museum, Kings Cross Station, Sherlock Holmes Museum, the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, and a whole lot of things in between. It was so much fun, and so exhausting. And really freaking expensive. But most of all, I realized my worst nightmare: I think I might be a muggle. I spent three whole days in London, visited numerous magical sites, and... nothing. No Harry, no Dumbledore, no Dobby... Nada. Oh, well. It's best that I know the truth, now, instead of spending all my days wondering...

In no particular order, here are some photos of my adventure in London!

Westminster Abbey. I couldn't actually go in, because I went the last day of my trip, and they were having a memorial service for the British soldiers, and weren't open for tourists.

St. James Park. By far the prettiest area of London.

The Banqueting House. The roof was painted by Rubens, and is amazing. It is the last standing building of Henry VIII's Whitehall Palace (which burned down.) This is where I went instead of Westminster Abbey.

Big Ben! It's kind of hard to get a good picture of ol' Ben. The Houses of Parliament are really impressive on their own, too.

Fun sculptures outside of St. Paul's Cathedral. (It's the dome in the background.)

Tower of London. So cool! There was graffiti on the walls from the prisoners. Amazing. I spent a good three hours wandering around this place. Definitely a must-see.

I hopped off the tube at Baker street on a whim, because I had heard that there was a Sherlock Holmes museum there. And... the rumors were true. There was a man dressed as Holmes inside the shop, and a woman at the door dressed as Mrs. Hudson. I didn't actually go into the museum, because it was pretty expensive, but the shop alone was amazing.

Kings Cross station. They moved platform 9 3/4! Outrageous. It is no longer between platforms 9 and 10. It is on a wall outside the station. I searched for it, but the darkness plus exhausted led to me being unable to find it. And I didn't really care that much, because I had already determined that I would not be getting on the Hogwarts Express, anyway. :( But I did get a picture of the REAL platform 9 3/4.

Harrods on Knightsbridge. If you don't know what Harrods is, check it out. It was HUGE. And no, I absolutely did NOT buy anything, but it was cool to see. And beautifully decorated for Christmas already.

My first real-sized cup of coffee in almost three months! (Excluding the one I got in Scotland with mom.) Yum!

Kensington Gardens. Absolutely beautiful.

All in all, it was a really good trip. I'd go back.

Next on the list: Amsterdam! I leave on Wednesday after class, and get to wander around the canals for three days, before heading back to Madrid on Saturday. (Bring on the chocolate!)

P.S. I come home in just over a month. Ummm, what??

Destination: London

Tomorrow morning, I leave for London. I've been excited about this for about three weeks now... And now that it is almost here, I'll be totally honest: I'm a little nervous.

I'm traveling alone. But this isn't the part that makes me nervous. It just occurred to me as I was packing this afternoon that I am totally responsible for the next three days.

Plane tickets, passport, getting from the airport to the hostel, getting around the city, making sure I've packed everything I need... That's all on me. There isn't anyone else coming with to cover me. Any mistakes? They're all on me.

I've checked and re-checked that I have everything I need. (This can be tough for me, because I like to pack only what I need. I weed out anything not absolutely necessary.) Plane ticket, passport, wallet, hostel receipt, camera and warm clothing...

Anything else that comes my way (accidental or my own folly,) I'll figure out. :)

Solo traveling, adventure number one.

Here. We. Go.