It's 5pm and my thoughts run between to points: the excitement of being in a new country for the very first time and the struggle of just being on a flight for almost 12 hours (with a layover). It's a true 58 degrees Fahrenheit here. Like, it's pretty fucking cold here. But that's the temperature that New Yorkers bite through in their short shorts and flip flops at the first sign of Spring. Not here, though. People still wore long overcoats. People here are, in fact, smart af.
5pm turns into 6pm, and then 7pm, and museums are closed. So we think of the only natural way to start our trip, a visit to the Foodhallen. Can't wait to show you more in my Amsterdam roundup. But for now, I'm still low-key dying.
Visuals by Pedro Morales