Easter Sunday sunning in Sarphati

I never thought I'd spend Easter Sunday on my own, laying in the sun in a park in Amsterdam. So far, in this lifetime I've spent birthdays in Perth, Copenhagen, and hopefully my 23rd in the Dam, I've had Thanksgivings in Perth and Barcelona, the 4th of July on a plane to Costa Rica and Halloween in Fremantle. Crazy, ain't it? And today I blast my Dave Matthews as my freckles congregate, darkening into a cluster of ginger tan. It's so odd celebrating holidays abroad. Being so far from the family festivities and dysfunctional dinners make it feel like just another day... apart from the presence of the "Easter Tree" rooted at reception.

There are no eggs decorated, no baskets to wake to full of mini Cadbury eggs and overpriced-edible bunnies. There is no mid-morning chocolate overdose (midnight is another story).

I woke this morning to the ladies of the love cave staring in my direction. I rolled over in hopes that the 10am internal alarm would turn itself off. EPIC FAIL. The sun gleamed inside the windows as the leaves rustled, falling into the attic. My bursting bladder beckoned. There is no chance of dozing back into dreamland once one walks up and down 58 stairs. I made some coffee, which always seems to disappear when living in a hostel. I got my clean on in the shower of the Tulip Room and boogied down to Stevie Wonder as I prepared myself for the day and packed my bike bag. And now? Now I find myself here, in Sarphati Park with a large iced coffee, relaxing before I take guests out on the Ultimate Easter Sunday Pub Crawl.

...sounds like an unforgettable Easter, eh?

It's amazing to think of how many people I've met over this past month. Travelers coming in and out of my home every day, welcoming them with open arms. Some names and faces are lost in translation as the time is fleeting. Certain presences linger as the energy of the old brothel evolves with the exchanging of guests.

In the first few minutes of conversation I can feel those I know I'll mesh with, the company I'll miss. The friends I find are always moving on as I wait in hope that the next check in will be Easter-Sunday-lounging material, qualified for coffee and bagels in the park, specialized in skipping the same-'ol-small talk for comfortable conversation. But for now I'll bask in the sun with some soothing music, my hula, bicycle and as always... a large iced coffee.

Happy Easter.

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