After Brussels, we ventured to where few tourists have dared go before: to Charleroi in Wallonia, Belgium, an industrial city that did not do very well in its transition to post-industrial. It is now largely a collection of abandoned factories, empty government buildings, and crumbling “ghost metro” lines.

Here we took an “urban safari” led by Nico, a tour guide by day and custom chair designer by night. I was a bit unsure of going on this tour, not because Nico introduced himself as a “very bad man,” but rather because this seemed like the kind of voyeuristic disaster tourism that people did in NOLA post-Katrina or that people do now in Detroit.

But despite my reservations, I enjoyed myself as Nico led us through abandoned factories, piles of glass, discarded syringes, and plenty of thorny bushes. I am not sure of what was said on this tour, as Nico speaks a mixture of French...

I’ve begun to grow suspicious that my entire study abroad program is just one big booster campaign for Amsterdam. Each day we learn about something that Amsterdam is doing perfectly that the rest of the world is failing at, like housing or public health or bike lanes or stroopwafels. I’ve become a bit of a skeptic, questioning every positive fact that they’re feeding us and wondering what they’re hiding behind all those beautiful canal houses.

But Brussels was pretty much the polar opposite, and the city much more closely fit my paradigm of what to expect in an urban area. Brussels has highly concentrated urban poverty in the inner city ringed by a wealthy periphery and suburbs. It’s a car-dominated city with horrible public transportation. There are too many government bodies, none of which agree with each other. Bloated politicians dine on expensive meals just blocks away from where...

Today was yet another cold, rainy, and dreary day in Holland, which naturally called for an evening slice of appeltaart and some English breakfast tea. My roommate (Sarah) and I had already tried the alleged 1 pie in all of the city, so this time we went for the 2 slice from Café Papeneiland, a little whole-in-the-wall establishment that seems to cater exclusively to elderly locals. I know this because a man approached us and essentially asked what we were doing in an old person bar.

I’ll admit, I was skeptical about this pie choice. The appeltaart was still in the springform pan, uncut, and looked a little overdone and unassuming compared to Winkel 43’s 1 pie. However, I was pleasantly surprised. What this pie lacks in aesthetic grandeur, it makes up for in simplistic, delicious ingredients. The crust/filling ratio was much better than Winkel’s, and the pie is not overly sweet...

This weekend, my roommate and I pilgrimaged to the alleged best apple pie in all of Amsterdam at the café Winkel 43. And it did not disappoint:

Now that I’ve truly tasted greatness, I’ve realized past appletaart was a joke. Winkel bakes their pies deep dish and adds raisins for extra sweetness. The crust tastes somewhere between a crumble topping and a yellow sheet cake. I don’t know what’s in it or how they make it, which is bothering me, but I’m willing to overlook that since the pie is so delicious. And the slice was so big that I couldn’t even finish it. 5/4 stars.

There is one main thing I learned this weekend: Amsterdam is a city that’s pretty much impossible not to have fun in, but it’s an unsustainable amount of fun. People here stay out so late, which ruins the magic experience of a weekend morning. I love getting up semi-early on a weekend and going out to get coffee...

Living in Amsterdam has been a constant lesson in ways not to ride a bike: in a dress, in Birkenstocks, in the wind, in the rain, into poles, around other people, by motorbikes, one-handed, uphill, around sharp corners, while sneezing, etc. It is unmistakably clear that my European classmates from bike-friendly cities somehow have these lessons ingrained, and I am learning them all for the first time. Every time I Google-Map biking directions somewhere, I add an extra 15 minutes to account for collisions and panic attacks.

But I refuse to give up. I am determined to reach Tour-de-France-status by my last day in Amsterdam. Yet until then, I have discovered a temporary solution to all this madness, something that I like to call the 8:30 pm bike ride. No locals are on the roads at 8:30 pm on a weekday because they’re all other, better things, even though it stays light outside until 10...

I feel like my whole life has just been building up to culminate in this single moment: my first slice of Dutch apple pie. Just look at it:

This is the apple pie that I will base all of my future pies off of, and I give it a solid ¾ stars. The crust is somewhere in between a yellow cake and a puff pastry, and the apples are in chunks and perfectly seasoned with cinnamon. Delicious.

To make matters even better, I just had my first SUCCESSFUL bike ride around the city and am celebrating with some Stroopwafel. How Dutch am I now?! I like to think that my great-great grandparents would be proud.

Yet despite its excellent dessert scene, Amsterdam has been the most confusing city that I’ve ever temporarily lived in. I didn’t expect Amsterdam to be this challenging. After all, I grew up in the Seattle area, the Amsterdam of the West Coast! Our library was designed by Rem Koolhaas! We’re...

[I’m now officially in Amsterdam for my study abroad program, so I’m keeping this short and sweet by skipping the second day of Venice and combining Copenhagen into one entry. Just know that in Venice I got a million bug bites and continued to get lost and scored a new pair of Birkenstocks.]

The entire city of Copenhagen is just like coolest coffee shop you’ve ever seen. It all has the same vibe - and within moments of arriving, I was sitting on a faux fur throw at an open-air hip cafe eating stone ground mustard raspberry jam on rye toast just thinking, “Yes, this is exactly where I want to be, and this is exactly what I want to be doing, and this is exactly what I want to be sitting on.” Now imagine that x 348342 and you have the entire city of Copenhagen.

I first became interested in Copenhagen after I watched the documentary Happy and learned that it’s supposed to be the happiest...

Venice is the culmination of all of my urban studies dreams and nightmares in a single city. Cars are banned in this city full of pedestrian-only streets and canals, and it’s considered to be one of the most beautiful cities in the world, for good reason. It’s actually fairly transit-dense with several canal boat lines. Yet it’s basically just a giant maze of concrete floating on water. There are barely any parks or plazas, and the streets are INSANE. I cannot emphasize that enough. It’s basically the urban equivalent of a siren, luring you in with its beauty and then trapping you on its island forever.

Venice’s population has been steadily declining since the 1950s with only 60,000 people remaining. I am convinced that these are the ones who just keep getting lost and cannot find their way out of the city. They even threw I funeral for the city in 2009 because of its population loss. I...

Although it is by now a proven fact that gelato is superior to ice cream in every way, shape, and form, today I deviated from my normal chocolate cup and went out on a limb at the Magnum store. I knew that Magnum ice cream bars were Italian, but I thought they were just sold in grocery stores with sensual Rachel Bilson ads. This is not the case in Florence, where they have a whole store where you can make custom ice cream bars!

I ordered one with goji berries, but then she told me to pick three toppings and I panicked and added meringue and rose petals, resulting in this monstrous thing:

It was actually pretty good.

One of the things that you’re just supposed to do in Florence apparently is buy some leather shoes, which is easy, because there’s 5020394 shoe vendors. But we did the sensible thing and Googled the best shoemaker in Florence, leading us to Sabatini’s tiny one room shop...