"When Your In-Laws Retire… and Accidentally Plan Your Dream Trip"

So, my sister-in-law decided to retire from teaching this year—finally giving up her chalk-dusted crown—and she and her husband went full "Eat, Pray, Opa!" and booked a 30-day odyssey through Greece. Naturally, I applauded their bold move. I’ve always suspected my last name had some Greek or Russian roots—possibly "Black Russian," which, by the way, also happens to be my drink of choice.

But then they said the magic word: “Crete”. That’s when my travel senses started tingling. They scored an Airbnb on the island for around $1000 for the entire month (seriously, I’ve paid more for parking in LA), and generously invited friends and family to crash their Grecian getaway.

Now here’s where it gets legendary: I knew I had to go—because on Crete there’s a monastery that shares my last name. The Arkadi Monastery. Yes, that Arkadi Monastery. UNESCO World Heritage Site. Holy vibes. Coincidence? I think not. My pilgrimage had officially begun.

Of course, flying directly from Los Angeles to Crete is like trying to find good Wi-Fi in a cave—basically impossible. So, we took the scenic route: springtime in Amsterdam. Tulips were blooming, stroopwafels were flowing. From Amsterdam, we flew into Heraklion International Airport (HER), which is way closer to the monastery than Chania (sorry, CHQ).

And on the way back? Two nights in Paris. Because if you’re going to do a pilgrimage, you might as well add a little wine and croissant-laced victory lap before returning to California. 

Parking at LAX: AKA The First Test of Your Vacation Budget

If you're not into starting your vacation with the soul-crushing pain of an empty wallet, then whatever you do—plan ahead for LAX parking. Trust me, unless you're into giving away your money like its confetti, you’ll want to skip the on-site rates.

We were heading out for 10 days and figured it’d be nice to still afford snacks on the return flight, so we chose the off-site parking route. Around LAX, you’ll find a buffet of options—from budget-friendly self-park lots to fancy valet services that make you feel like you're more important than your boarding group number.

Prices range from “nice!” ($8.95/day) to “who hurt you?” ($50/day). Spots like Wally Park and Joe’s roll out the red carpet with free shuttles to the terminals, while The Parking Spot keeps your car cozy in covered parking on Century Blvd. Moral of the story: a little planning = more vacation money = more margaritas. Win-win.

 Flying JetBlue: The Good, the Bad, and the Lukewarm

We kicked off our epic journey with JetBlue, flying from LAX to JFK, then hopping over the pond to Amsterdam. Each leg of the trip clocked in at about five hours—basically enough time to watch three movies, take two naps, and deeply question your life choices once or twice.

Now, back in the golden age of international travel, you got treated like royalty: hot meals, warm bread, and free-flowing booze that made you forget you were crammed into a flying sardine can. But if you’re flying JetBlue today, let me lovingly say—lower those expectations, my friend.

First surprise? The food wasn’t just not hot—it wasn’t even emotionally warm. I’m talking "high school cafeteria in February" levels of temperature. But hey, JetBlue tries to win you back with the good stuff: free beer, wine, and liquor (if you’re 21+ and feel like flying with a buzz). Plus, they’ve got all the free snacks and drinks your heart desires—Pepsi products, still or sparkling water (because we’re fancy now), juices, and even Dunkin’ coffee, because nothing says "elevated travel experience" like caffeine in a paper cup at 30,000 feet.

So yeah, your meal might be meh, but your cup will runneth over... with chardonnay. Fair trade, right?

Welcome to Amsterdam: Where Even the Airport Has Attitude

After two flights, a couple of lukewarm meals, and enough airplane coffee to power a small village, we finally touched down at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport—aka the international heartbeat of the Netherlands, and honestly? It slaps (It’s amazing and really good).

But hold up—don’t sprint for the exit just yet. Schiphol isn’t just an airport; it’s a whole vibe. This place has personality, Dutch humor, and more cultural flair than most downtown art districts. Case in point: as you stroll through the terminal in a jet-lagged daze, keep an eye out for the giant wall clock. It’s not your average timepiece. Behind the glass, there’s a guy who literally paints and erases the hands of the clock in real time. No joke. It's like performance art meets timekeeping—with a touch of Dutch sass.

Need more? There’s a branch of the Rijksmuseum tucked near Departure Lounges 2 and 3 (yes, you can get cultured before customs), airport lounges that are basically mini spas, and a shopping area that feels more like a designer mall than a travel hub. Oh—and don’t be surprised if you stumble upon a live music performance mid-terminal. Schiphol doesn’t just move people, it moves moods.

If you're planning a layover or just want to explore the terminal like a local, check this link for extra services: Schiphol Airport Services.

As for getting to central Amsterdam, we skipped the train (which was slightly cheaper) and dodged the taxis (which cost approximately one human soul). Instead, we grabbed an Uber to the W Hotel in central Amsterdam for just 26 Euros. Quick, convenient, and without the surprise kidney donation. Efficiency with a capital E.

Schiphol isn’t just a gateway to the Netherlands—it’s your first taste of Dutch charm, cleverness, and slightly sarcastic clocks. Buckle up, your adventures already started.

Touchdown at the W: Jetlag, Heineken, and Rooftop Vibes

We rolled up to the “W” in Amsterdam—feeling like rockstars fresh off the runway—only to be told our room wasn’t ready. Classic. But instead of throwing a diva tantrum (tempting), we handed off our bags to the Concierge, high-fived our jetlag, and hit the streets on foot, destination: the legendary Heineken Brewery and Museum.

Now, the last time I tried to check out this beer temple, the line was wrapped around the building like it was Coachella for hops lovers. I took one look and said, “Nope, not today.” But this time? No line. No wait. Just destiny. We walked right in, scored our tickets, and were handed two drink tokens each—AKA golden keys to Heineken heaven.

Here’s the kicker: five minutes into the tour, we’re already sipping Heineken… without even using our tokens. Free-flowing beer, interactive exhibits, and zero sense of time—it was a beautiful blur. By the time we reached the final bar, we were happily buzzed and finally ready to cash in those tokens. As we staggered up to the bar, I couldn’t resist joking, “One Modelo with a lime, please.” (Spoiler: they didn’t laugh. But I did.)

We took our beers to the rooftop, where we soaked up the fresh air and panoramic views of Amsterdam—truly one of my favorite cities in Europe. Between the breeze, the brews, and the skyline, we were living our best life and trying to remember our middle names.

Eventually, we made our way back to the W, where the attendant greeted us like royalty. “Your bags are already in your room,” she said, “and since your check-in was delayed, please accept this €44 voucher for the rooftop lounge.” Now that’s service.

We made our way up to the lounge, ready to sip something stylish and maybe meet a mysterious stranger named Sven.

Instead, we were floored by the rooftop pool—pure luxury. But the Heinekens + jetlag combo hit us hard, so we gracefully tapped out and headed to our room to crash like champions… until it was time to rally for our sunset canal cruise through Amsterdam—with unlimited booze.

That’s right. We went from power napping to sipping bottomless wine and beer on a boat gliding through historic canals, golden hour lighting up the water like a postcard. There’s something magical about watching 17th-century buildings drift by while holding your third glass of bubbly and wondering if you could make canal-living a full-time career.

Amsterdam, you beautiful, boozy maze—you really know how to treat a traveler.

As we cruised the historic canals during golden hour, the peaceful, postcard-perfect scene was suddenly shattered by the unmistakable sound of French girls on a mission—a bachelorette party in full chaotic bloom. Decked out in attire and enough glitter to blind a cyclist, they paraded a blow-up companion (let’s just say he was anatomically optimistic) like a prized trophy. Their laughter echoed off the 17th-century buildings, and somewhere in the distance, a confused Dutchman probably muttered, "Mon dieu..." It was pure, champagne-fueled magic—and honestly, Amsterdam wouldn’t have it any other way.

The next morning, our stomachs are growling like lions, we ran through our itinerary and headed downstairs in search of breakfast. The front desk laid out our options: the W Lounge, the rooftop steakhouse Mr. Porter, or the ever-so-fancy Dutchess. The team unanimously recommended the Dutchess for both food and ambiance—and folks, they did not lie. The vibe was next-level sophistication, especially for a kid from the inner city like me. Velvet chairs, gold accents, a DJ spinning lowkey beats at breakfast? Say less.

Bottom line: The W Amsterdam is elite. From the service to the rooftop views to the breakfast that made me want to become a full-time brunch influencer, this place comes highly recommended by your friends at Black and White Travel Chronicles.

But don’t go too far… because this story’s just getting started.

Keukenhof or Bust: Tulips, Tour Buses, and Organized Chaos

After breakfast (and an unreasonable amount of croissants), we set off for the crown jewel of springtime in the Netherlands: the Keukenhof Gardens. We booked our excursion with the Hop On Hop Off tour bus, which departs from the very futuristic-looking “This is Holland” building—basically a giant spaceship parked next to the water.

Now, we could have taken the scenic route by walking behind Amsterdam

Central Station and hopping on the free ferry across the channel (which takes all of five minutes and zero euros), but nah—we went full boss mode and grabbed an Uber.

We pulled up feeling’ fly and ready for tulips, only to find—surprise! —a line that looked like a Taylor Swift concert was about to break out. Despite having a set departure time, there was absolutely no rhyme or reason to the madness. But don’t panic—chaos is just Dutch efficiency wearing clogs. The lines kept moving, the buses kept arriving, and eventually we were herded onto our ride like confused-but-hopeful cattle. Somehow, it worked.

Now here’s the kicker: without realizing it, we had chosen the busiest day of the year to visit Keukenhof. Of course, we did—go big or go home. And let me tell you, if you’re even mildly into flowers, colors, or anything that could make your Instagram feed look like a Lisa Frank sticker book, this place is your Disneyland. Tulips in every imaginable color spread across acres of stunning, storybook-worthy land. Rows and rows of blooms so perfect, I started questioning if they were even real. (I may or may not have sniffed them to be sure.)

Listen, I know what you’re thinking: "Isn’t Amsterdam known for its coffee shops?" And yes, I see you, culture-curious traveler. But if you’re lucky enough to be in town between March 20 and May 11 and don’t go to Keukenhof, you’re doing spring wrong. This isn’t just a garden—it’s a living, breathing rainbow. A must-do. A drop-everything-and-go moment.

Trust me—your inner florist (and your camera) will thank you.

After frolicking through fields of tulips like we were filming a Dutch shampoo commercial, we made our way back to the “This is Holland” building—tired, happy, and a little pollen-dusted. Rather than Ubering like the pampered travelers we are (sometimes), we decided to do it the local way: hop on the free ferry back across to the train station and take a leisurely stroll back to the “W.”But just as we were headed toward the docks, something caught our eye—a sign for A’DAM LOOKOUT, looming like a dare from the Amsterdam skyline itself.

We stopped, looked at each other, and said what any bold traveler would say: "Do we really need both feet on the ground today?” Adventure was calling. And we were ready to answer with dramatic flair.

A’DAM LOOKOUT: Where Observation Deck Meets Adrenaline Junkie Daydream

Let’s get one thing straight—A’DAM LOOKOUT isn’t your grandma’s observation deck. This place doesn’t just offer jaw-dropping 360° views of Amsterdam and its surrounding cities... it dares you to level up your skyline experience.

First off, there's "Over The Edge"—Europe’s highest swing. Yes, you read that right. They strap you into a swing on the edge of the building and then launch you out into the sky like you're auditioning for Mission: Impossible – Windmill Edition. It's the kind of thrill that makes your legs wobble and your Instagram pop.

Still got some adrenaline left in the tank? Good—because there’s a VR rollercoaster ride waiting to bend your brain in the best way possible. It’s like flying through a futuristic Amsterdam while staying right in your seat. Trippy? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely.

Need a breather? Slide over to the Sky Bar, where you can refuel with snacks, a proper meal, or a cocktail fancy enough to make James Bond raise an eyebrow.

Pro tip: sip slowly and stare dramatically into the distance—it’s the Lookout way.

Don’t forget to snag your digital souvenir photo, courtesy of their camera system that somehow always catches you mid-laugh, mid-scream, or mid-slay.

Oh, and the elevator? It’s not just transportation—it’s part light show, part rocket launch, part “Whoa, what just happened?” Top it all off with interactive binoculars and a free audio tour narrated by none other than A’DAM himself (the building’s got personality, obviously), and you’ve got a full-blown sky-high adventure.

This isn't just sightseeing—it’s a vertical party with a view.

 After conquering A’DAM Lookout like the sky-loving legends we are, our stomachs started growling like a pack of lions who hadn’t seen a zebra in days. As we strolled through the train station and wandered down a side street enroute to the “W,” fate (and hunger) led us to a glowing beacon of Dutch culinary curiosity: FEBO.

Now, if you’ve never heard of FEBO, imagine a wall of vending machines—but instead of sad airport snacks, these babies are stocked with piping hot Dutch comfort food. No cashier, no waiting. Just walk up, pick what speaks to your soul (croquettes, burgers, mystery meat on a stick), pop in a coin or Euro, and boom—hot food, instantly in your hand. It’s like fast food and slot machines had a beautiful, greasy baby.

And here’s the kicker—it was actually good. Like, “go-back-for-seconds” good. So, if you’re standing there being all skeptical like, “Is this really food?”—yes, it is. And it slaps.

You're on vacation. Live a little. Try the weird vending machine wall. Worst case? You get a story. Best case? You find your new guilty pleasure. Either way, you win.

Knowing this was our last night in Amsterdam before jetting off to Crete, we knew we had to go out in sweet, sticky style—stroopwafel style. And not just any stroopwafel. We made a pilgrimage to the legendary Famous stroopwafel House (a.k.a. Fika’s Stroopwafel Heaven on Earth).

Now listen, if your only stroopwafel experience involves peeling one out of a tin from Costco while pretending it’s “just a snack,” I’m here to tell you—you’ve been living a lie. This was the real deal: hot off the press, sliced with surgical precision, slathered with warm gooey caramel, and lovingly reassembled into a circular masterpiece of joy. As we stood there, caramel dribbling down our fingers like overexcited tourists with zero napkin game, we both agreed—this was dessert royalty.

Waddling back to the “W” in a sugar-happy daze, we decided to wrap up our time in Amsterdam with a well-deserved spa night. But plot twist: turns out this hotel used to be a bank. And the spa? Hidden deep below in what used to be the vault. That’s right, we got our Zen on in the same place money once got locked up tighter than a tourist’s luggage zipper.

Now, being the model citizens that we are, we followed the rules—no phones, no photos, no problem. But apparently, not everyone got the memo. As we soaked in the ambiance (and the Jacuzzi), we noticed at least two other couples scrolling Instagram and watching YouTube like they were poolside at a Marriott. Next time, maybe we’ll rebel. Just maybe. Here's a sneak peek from Marriott https://www.marriott.com/en-us/hotels/amswh-w-amsterdam/photos/ (Just Choose Spa at the top of the page).

The spa had it all—a warm pool, two hot tubs (one hot enough to cook ramen), and a cold plunge tank that might’ve been filled with melted glacier water. My wife kept chanting, “Do it! Do it! Do it!” like a motivational coach in a Rocky movie. And yes—I did it. And yes—it stole my soul for a second. Worth it.

There were also massages and other fancy add-ons if you're feeling bougie. But for us, this spa vault night was the perfect send-off to our whirlwind 48-hour Amsterdam adventure.

Sure, we didn’t make it to the Anne Frank House (sold out), Van Gogh Museum, or even the Red-Light District (insert dramatic gasp here). But did we live it up? Absolutely. We drank Heinekens like champions, swung off buildings, devoured caramel waffles, and turned a bank vault into our personal Zen den.

So here’s the moral of the story: Don’t sweat the must-dos. Follow your curiosity, chase that street sign that looks interesting, and say “yes” to the vending machine burger. Amsterdam is full of surprises, and trust me—it’ll win you over one stroopwafel at a time.