thoughts from the train

I sit on a train traveling from Amsterdam to Berlin.  But let me backtrack.

I spent 2 days in Bruges, Belgium.  It is one of the best-preserved Medieval cities in the world.  Very quaint, very touristy, very expensive.  We had gotten assigned a giant art assignment, basically summarizing the entire Story of Art.  We were in the nicest hotel I’ve ever been in, so it wasn’t the worst place to do homework in. 

-study for 3 hours, drink tea, eat chocolate, go our for a waffle break, come back, repeat-

End the night with beer and watching Colin Ferrell’s dark comedy “In Bruges”.

It was actually a great time.  We needed to get out of the culture and business London provided.  And it felt like we were back at Westmont again.  The intense academic atmosphere interrupted with fits of silliness made me feel at home.  That’s what we do.  We run our minds into the ground studying and come out laughing in delirium.

Next was Amsterdam.  Most of the group was not looking forward to this city, and most of them did not know why we were visiting it.  I sat in between indifferent and optimistic towards the city. 

I loved Amsterdam.  It is one of my favorite cities I’ve ever been to.  The tall yellow and green trees lining every street with the peaceful canals and simple architecture were perfect.  There was diversity on every street reminding me strongly of San Francisco.  It is full of so many young people of all kinds that I finally felt comfortable and accepted, unlike the poorly dressed tourist that I feel like in most countries we visit. 

And although I loved the city, it was not all positive and enjoyable.  We stayed in a Christian hostel in the center of the Red Light district.  I welcomed this space and this idea.  Because I am a Westmont student, I hear heart-breaking stories about the world constantly.  I am thankful for that.  I am so blessed to attend a college that truly is globally minded and compassionate about those suffering in our world.  But it is easy to become numb to suffering, especially when you find it difficult to act upon that information.  Not only do I become numb, but I struggle with compassion in general.  It is a trait that I have prayed for and desired for a long time. 

And so, I was really looking forward to being so near to the struggles of this city, to see the brokenness and not be able to escape it as quickly as a I leave the gym from Chapel.

Amsterdam was fake to me before I even arrived.  It was a strange place where marijuana and prostitution are legal and it ends there. 

It seemed to be fake when I was there. 

Our hostel was next to a Thia Massage brothel with women in the windows 24-hours a day.  I walked the district with a few friends on our last night in the city.  Women tap on the glass, open the doors to talk to you, look you in the eyes, talk on cell phones as they wait.  I saw men ring the doorbells and enter.  I saw people walk the streets and laugh at these women.  The red and neon lights glow as though you walk through a sick amusement park of sadness and sin.  It is so very real.  But it is so very empty.  Something so terrible, so disgusting, so... sad, cannot make itself fully real to me.  It is a city full of lies about life and human beings and value that I do not see how I could see it completely.

I saw the sin as real.  I saw the emptiness as real.  I saw the addiction as real.  I saw the twisted treatment of God’s gracious gifts as real.  My pity for that place was real. 

That was the saddest and emptiest place I’ve ever been.  But Jesus is my truth, and his life is my reality.

And now I am on my way to Germany.  Excited to see what it has to offer, I have no idea what is ahead of me.