"I literally need to launch myself into a washing machine" Ourpenultimate stop in Amsterdam.

"I literally need to launch myself into a washing machine", said George after we'd attempted to shower as best we could with the hostel's poor excuse for a shower.

Noticeably more so after an over night journey, but we've come to the conclusion that we are ruined. My feet look as though I've not worn shoes for days, our hair is more often than not bunched up or naturally doing its own thing, I can't remember the last time I wore makeup and my nails have mostly come off, just a few tips hanging in there. Basically, though we're loving every single minute of our trip, we won't deny that the luxury of a proper home shower is a very exciting prospect.

There has been a rating of showers on my part throughout our trip. The winner quite obviously going to Venice, but we have had a variety. The worst has to be Genoa where the shower itself was private with a door, but there was no way you could get changed and keep your belongings dry in privacy. We quickly came to the realisation that for most Europeans this wasn't odd as they casually stripped in front of you, no shame. Good on them, but us English love this thing called personal space.

You should have seen the amount of techniques I tried to master so that I could remain inside the wet shower cubicle and get changed in private. I'd check the coast was clear, grab an item of clothing and retreat to my dressing room/ soaking wet shower like a little lizard. It took skill and I never grasped it, always soaking at least two items and slipping everywhere as I went.

For this reason I award Genoa the least favored shower, Rome a close competitor due to the fact that it sounded like an explosion, the water trickled out of what looked as though it should have been a powerful hose and the door barely shut. Everything else has been somewhere in between, all judged with scrutiny by me, the shower inspector.

Anyway, we had the worst journey of our entire trip from Prague to Amsterdam. The train was overnight but no beds, not even a seat. Instead, we endured a five hour wait from midnight through the early hours at Duisburg station in Germany, where we attempted to make comfort using our backpacks as pillows and our sleeping bag as an all in one mattress and duvet combination. This was among beggars, snoring men and drunkards urinating up walls - nice. So as you can imagine, no sleep was successfully had by either of us, despite taking it in turns to let each other catch the odd half hour here and there.

On arrival at our Christian hostel in the middle of the Red Light District (don't really go together, do they? Not what we expected at all) we knew we were too early to get into our rooms. However, we thought that maybe, them being Christians and all, that they'd let us in to sleep for years which is what we wanted. As hard as the lovely lady on reception tried, the beds weren't yet available so we had to drag our exhausted souls out for the day and await check in. We found a cafe and ordered espressos hoping this would help us keep our eyes open until midday and I'm pretty sure the waitress mistook us for stoners because our eyes were so vacant. After walking around like zombies for a few hours we finally met our beds, which were surprisingly comfy compared to the usual backpacker standard, and fell straight asleep.

Awake, feeling fresher and our body clocks crying at us as they had no idea what time it was, we thought an Amstel or two and a mooch around the beautiful city in a more 'with it' state would do us good. I could immediately tell I was more with it because I instantly spotted a photo opportunity and I'd taken none on my previous outing, so unlike me.

We headed to Dam square where some sort of rave was happening, the DJ at the top of the hotel and everyone on the ground loving life whether they were stoned or not. We then headed to a terrace with a great view of the city where we chilled for ages with odd tasting beer watching the cutest most angry little boy chasing pigeons and saw some very strange sights. After this, we went to the bridge of 15 bridges which gives a great view of the many canals of Amsterdam and is particularly pretty when all lit up at night. Having sat here a while and pied off a few guys wanting our services, we headed back to bed due to running on reserve fuel all day long.

The rain, though soothing while sleeping, didn't show any sign of stopping the following day. We'd already intended on going to Anne Frank's house but figured we needed to add a few more museum visits in to stay dry. Thankfully the 'cat boat' that my sister wanted to go to, to reveal her unhealthy obsession with cats was closed.

After we'd seen a fair amount at Rijksmuseum, we parked our bums at a prime people watching spot by the 'I Amsterdam' sign. Now, I've discussed the tourist and their shameless selfies a few times during our adventure, but this has got to be the best place yet for these oh so undisguised acts of vanity. The poses we saw, and the efforts people went to climb on top, though the top of the 'a' did look quite comfy, was just hilarious and we sat for hours amusing ourselves with this over a spot of lunch. We also came to the realisation that we are possibly the most bitchy pair of observers ever. We laughed so much at the comments we were making at people innocently (but disgustingly) enjoying their sandwich or the way they were happily (but dreadfully) dressed.

Following this enjoyable bit of time wasting came the best part of our stay in Amsterdam. The Anne Frank house is hands down the best museum experience that I've had. The wait in an hour long queue in the pouring rain was worth every minute. If you ever get a chance to go then do because I'm telling you it's amazingly set out. The audio guide takes you on a journey through the rooms, keeping everyone quiet because they are busily listening and, like you, totally moved by the story of this family. Just one Jewish family out of so many that went through hell, so sad. But, not only is the focus on the story, there is a lot dedicated to the diary and quotes from Anne about what writing meant to her. As an aspiring writer myself I found her so inspirational as well as listening to how she's impacted other people's lives in terms of how writing can be so comforting and quite frankly a saviour of your sanity in desperate times.

So, as we ended our final day on the continent walking back sodden and cold, dreaming of that hot shower, we felt grateful for all that our time in Europe has given us. Now for an adrenaline filled weekend in Wales and then home sweet home.

Things I've learnt in Amsterdam:
-I LOVE MY SLEEP and take a good 7/8 hours sleep for granted
-our bodies are wasting away
-they advertise raves with raves
-the 'Amsterdam burger' is a dam good shout (pardon the pun)
-the city is way bigger and dirtier than expected
-we can people watch for hours
-Netherlands' cute dog game is strong
-we're really bitchy tourists
-mills' don't have 'inside voices'