Welkom op Amsterdam

Thirty six hours after kissing my two favourite boys goodbye, I finally arrived in Amsterdam.

The first leg with the ever gracious Singapore Airlines was fabulous - lots of room to lie down and service that was as amazing as ever. Even the six hour layover in Singers was softened by the stupendous Changi Airport. I could quite easily move into that behemouth of an airport and never be found.

The next leg, c/o KLM, could have been better: too many of us shoe-horned into a small space. But the enforced sardine situation meant at least I got to know the other Kiwi journo on this famil, Nicky, and her hubbie Carne. We had a laugh and chatted and dozed and watched movies and somehow the 13 hours melted away.

An hour later I was at my hotel and, despite being very tempted to sink into bed, I was a good girl and followed the time-honoured rule of keeping awake until bed time in the country of destination. So, after a scaldingly hot shower, I jumped on the Metro and whizzed out to the fabulous Waterlooplein vintage market and then walked what seemed like miles. But the autumn sun was surprisingly strong and I was ecstatic at finally having escaped the flying tin can.

I should nail my colours to the mast here: I have never been Amsterdam's biggest fan. But that's what happens when your wallet is nicked the first time you visit a city. Still, that was years and years ago and time has been kind to the Dutch capital: it's much cleaner and less debauched than I remember, plus it seems to have pulled off that toughest of tricks - losing its dodgy edge without becoming boring.

On the downside, there seem to be just as many groups of drunken English lads on stag weekends as I recall, but if this city was to list its good points, it wouldn't raise a sweat filling both sides of an A4 sheet. With more heritage buildings than you can shake a UNESCO listing at, Amsterdam is a big fat show-off. And with the yellow leaves gently tumbling to the ground and groups of classical buskers on almost every corner, it was a joy to criss-cross this stunning city. Apologies for the quality of today's images - I was so tired I almost walked in front of a tram. I promise to try harder tomorrow.

For lunch there were these disgustingly fattening frites, drowned in more mayonnaise than should be allowed by the EU. But they are as deliciously decadent as I remember.

And, oops, how did this Zara bag end up in my hotel room? A girl, it seems, cannot live on fine buildings and frites alone...

  

Ankunft

Or arrival, as they say in these parts.

It took Scott less time to reach the Pole than it did for me to cross the globe. But I am here and it's lovely to be back in Europe.

This is the view from my room at the Intercontinental Vienna.

Not too shabby, right?

Even though sleep is scratching at my eyes, I am trying to reframe my body clock and not crash until tonight. So I went for a wee stroll and came across this amazing church, a random brass band  that appeared out of nowhere and a gi-normous Zara (cue the Animator quaking at the potential damage to the credit card).

This beautiful park is across the road from my hotel and I am hoping to go for a run there tomorrow.

Negatives? In my sleep-deprived and over-caffeinated state, I keep looking the wrong way when crossing the road. Plus, I had forgotten how many peeps still smoke in Europe. Also, can we discuss the weather: seriously, it's supposed to be warmer than this. Which is a good excuse as any for buying a lovely new sweater.

Up and Down

I started this yesterday but ran out of puff. So let's make it a Friday/Sat collaborative kind of thing:

UP

• Sunshine, glorious sunshine. You have been gone far too long. I truly heart you.

• Getting stuff done. There's nothing like a deadline to light the fire under one's arse, and knowing that I'm getting on a big silver bird on Thursday has made my fingers race over the keyboard. Result: two interviews, three corporate pieces and a pitch all done and dusted.

• A meeting with the lovely owner of an advertising agency I met while walking the Hound. And a copywriting project that needs doing by Xmas. Bonus: after the meeting we took our respective canines into the Town Belt for a walk and a natter. Sometimes things do fall into place.

•  A long and involved chat with the PR for our Singapore media trip to iron out all the creases in our itinerary. And, joy of joys, we have the same guide I had four years ago; she was so much fun I spent most of my time in the tiny island state shaking with laughter. Not so joyful: having to attend some post-Formula 1 party next Saturday and not having a clue what to wear (this should probably be in the 'Down' column).  

• Freetime spent pouring over the Zara, H&M and Topshop websites in anticipation of next week's shopping spree. Scoff all you like, overseas readers, but here in these small, shaky isles we are bereft of these global behemoths. So while you may believe they represent the seven circles of hell, when you're denied access to them, they become like some kind of glittery prize. Perhaps a trip to one of these places can solve the above bullet.

DOWN

• The usual time/tasks conundrum.

• My friend Lorna and her adorable woofer Dobbie are moving. Yesterday we had a last walk with them, although they're only moving a couple of suburbs away, so hopefully we'll stay in touch.

• Realising a favourite Stella McCartney top (calm down, a sample I bought in China which probably cost about 1/8th of the real thing) has sprung a hole in the side. Cue inept tailoring skills.   

• Not being able to watch the second season of The Newsroom because the Animator had failed to bung it on the hard-drive. And he was, quite inconsiderately, out drinking. I do love me a bit of The Newsroom when I'm home alone.

Because it's the weekend, and I'm in a good mood, today's visual is this wonderful piece of nonsense I came across the other day. Happy weekend, wherever you are...