'Fleaas Biteicus Skinicus'

January 25, 2010 | Article Posted By - Claudia Everet, London

Against my better judgement on a recent trip to Amsterdam I arrived in town without a hotel booking. What could be simpler arrive at the magnificent Schiphol airport pick up the phone on one of those curious little stands that advertised hotels and let them know that I will be with them in two minutes or so.  

I seem to recall there were 20 or so hotels each with their little advert and telephone, each fully booked.  Plan 'B' break out the laptop; find a decent internet connection and search the wonderful World Wide Web.

 

I am sure the computer didn't laugh at me; it just felt that way fully booked - fully booked - fully booked was the mantra of the day.  5 star hotels, you must be joking, not a 4 star, not a 3 star suddenly I had visions of my misspent youth in hostels and YMCA's, I then spied the Tourist Office, my saviours no doubt they must have one up their sleeves a few rooms for those mad fools that travel without reservations. 

 

I dutifully stood inline behind I should imagine a German student, he was about 6' 8'' carrying a huge rucksack and wearing shorts despite the sub zero temperatures outside. The helpful assistance conversed with my German friend in what I assumed to be perfect German, you can't imagine such a thing in the UK a Tourist Office official working in the airport conversing in multiple languages. 

 

After 10 minutes or so it was my turn, I smiled, I perhaps even fluttered my eye lashes but to no avail, - no madam no hotels, but he said there is a room available but he cannot vouch for the quality of the establishment.  Obligingly he scribbled the address on a piece of paper and I departed, safely in the knowledge that the damsel is no longer in distress.  I handed the note to the cab driver, this was not because he did not speak English as obviously his English was perfect but it was more that I was struggling to pronounce the name of Dutch words with 27 letters with v's, w's and d's next to each other.

 

The establishment was what we in the U.K. might call a greasy spoon - the man behind the bar I assumed was Turkish, pleasant enough but the string vest with stains down the front was a little off putting. We ascended the stairs my host dutifully carried my bag and we arrived shortly thereafter in what he described as my room- it was a corridor with a bed in. How proudly he showed me the bathroom all mod cons, a loo, (cracked) with a shower attachment over the top - I bit my bottom lip preventing the tear from welling up from deep within, I shall be brave!! 

 

I deposited my luggage and quickly left the scene of the accident trying to remember all the wonderful places that Amsterdam has to offer but suitable for a girl travelling alone.  It would conjure the wrong imagine in my reader's mind if I said I walked the streets of Amsterdam, suffice to say I stayed out as late as possible.  On return to my hostelry I discovered that the sheets contained "remnants" let me say of the previous guests; I slept atop the bed fully clothed, and woke early. Holding the shower attachment over my head above the loo I noticed that I had developed an interesting rash, medically known as 'fleaas biteicus skinicus'!!!

 

It is difficult to explain the horror of knowing that one is host to fleas, was not the plague spread by these horrid creatures, and now little Claudia was the bodily re-enactment of a scene from the Middle Ages.

 

As you might imagine, I fled the greasy spoon stopping to pay the bill but too embarrassed to discuss the subject of fleas.  I went back to the airport calling my appointment on the way to cancel. On to the first available plane, home, suitcase thrown away on arrival, clothes dry cleaned or burned and body scrubbed with carbolic soap, no mention to loved ones of my horror as I would be teased forever.

Tags : Amsterdam

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