How I Spent My Summer Vacation, Part 2: Amsterdam

America's European travel guru Rick Steves suggests this approach to visiting the capital of the Netherlands: "Approach Amsterdam as an ethnologist observing a strange culture. Stroll through any neightborhood and see things that are commonplace here, but rarely found elsewhere. Carillons chime quaintly in neighborhoods selling sex, as young professionals smoke pot with impunity next to old ladies in bonnets selling flowers. Observe the neighborhood's 'social control,' where an elderly man feels safe in his home knowing he's being watched by the prostitutes next door."

There really are two stories when it comes to Amsterdam — that of the anything-goes-live-and-let-live society that has made the city a mecca for those drawn to the beacon of pot and prostitution without any legal ramifications, and that of a quaint Dutch settlement steeped in centuries of tradition that attracts conservative history buffs and tulip enthusiasts. But the two sides coexist so seamlessly that when you're there, it really does feel like one story. And Rick (after the last week, we're on a first name basis) is right. The only way to get this story is just to walk around and watch, which is what we did there for two and half days. And we came away in love with it.


JEM's favorite things about Amsterdam:
1. Canals.

Amsterdam's got more canals than Venice, and they're all lined with cute boats. They also have swans and these weird little black ducks that prompted the following exchange:

JEM: Wow, y'know? Look at that duck's feet. Those don't look like normal duck's feet. I don't think those are ducks at all.
Jake: Jaz, (sigh and eye roll) it's pronounced 'Dutch'.

2. Tall, skinny houses that look like they're melting.

Apparently the reason Amsterdam's houses are so skinny is that they were and still are taxed according to their width. Their stairwells are so steep and narrow that all the houses have hoisting hooks on their fronts for moving furniture through the windows by rope. All this combined with their skewompus melting angles caused by their centuries-long descent into the adjacent canals makes them look like they were designed by 4-year-old architects. They're adorable.

3. Bikes.

Amsterdam wasn't built for cars. The streets in Amsterdam are so tiny and so crowded with pedestrians that the thought of attempting to navigate them in a car is laughable. The resulting society is, I'd bet, the most bicycle-congested one in the western hemisphere.

And the bikes are great — these old, hammered things with chipped paint and squeaky breaks and stripped down metal child seats attached to every possible appendage. Our favorites were the ones with these built-on wooden buckets. They're like bike pickup trucks.

Jake really wants to get one someday. We're still working out how we'll get it to wherever we'll be living by then, but that's a bridge we'll cross when we get to it.

4. Narrow alleys that feel like secret passageways.

5. Food.

Strawberry kiwi tart

Dutch apple pancake

Dutch apple tart

Some of the tastiest hot chocolate ever to go down my gullet

Bizarre vending machine hamburgers

6. The Red Light District.

Sorry, no photos here. Apparently if you take pictures, pimps will leap from the shadows and give you a black eye.

Let me begin by saying that I am not an advocate of prostitution. Really. But strolling through Amsterdam's Red Light District ranks awfully high on my surreal-o-meter. Since I can't take you there with photos, I'll try to explain the set up as best as I can. You remember that pic up there of Jake frolicking in an alley? So, envision an alley just that narrow, lined with windows at ground level, like shop windows, with a glass door next to each window and a red light over each door. But instead of mannequins and store displays in the windows, there are live girls in lingerie, literally a couple of feet from you, really hamming it up. They wink and smile and beckon and blow kisses and even knock on the glass to get your attention. Bargaining happens through the door, and once a deal has been struck, the customer is admitted into the small bedroom and a curtain is drawn over the window and door.

Did I mention it's really surreal?

The favorite moment of our Red Light District stroll was when we noticed, behind a pretty blond girl shimmying for a group of prospective customers, an open door behind her that led into an adjacent kitchenette that she apparently shared with her next door neighbor, who happened to be in there at the time, standing next to the microwave in a thong and stilettos, fixing herself a snack.

7. Anne Frank house.

I read the Diary of Anne Frank as a kid, I think. At least portions of it. But after standing in the rooms where the whole thing went down, I have to read it again. What an incredible and tragic story.

The clippings and photos glued to the walls of Anne's room in the above picture are still on the walls, protected by sheets of plexiglass. They are such normal girl things to put on the wall — movie stars and the like — that I was really transfixed in there for a while. It reminded me of what a normal kid Anne was, just dropped into such horrifying and extraordinary circumstances.

I had forgotten that Anne's father, Otto Frank, was the only member of their family to survive the concentration camps. There was video of him in the museum talking about how long it took for him to open and read Anne's diary after the end of the war. It was one of the most raw and gut-wrenching things I've ever seen. This small museum is definitely an Amsterdam must.

8. Vincent van Gogh Museum.
This museum tells the life story of the Dutch-born revolutionary, who decided in his late 20s, with no artistic training or background, that he wanted to be an artist.

It chronicles his development and practice, starting with dark, drab rudimentary works and ending with the vibrant, emotional, Impressionism-inspired stuff the world now adores him for.

And, for me, it reshaped my image of van Gogh, whom I had always thought of as an angry, crazy, self-destructive misfit.

In the end, I left the place heartbroken over a sweet, well-meaning dreamer who, even as his work was reaching its creative climax, saw himself as a spectacular failure and, recognizing his mounting mental illness for what it was, checked himself into a psychiatric hospital.

But was unable to heal and, only 10 years after deciding he would become an artist, died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the chest.

I kept looking at the hordes of people in the museum desperately trying to get close to his most famous and beloved works and thinking, "Oh, I hope he can see this."


9. The flower market.


10. (Tie) Dutch people and Dutch quirkiness.

We decided that the Dutch people have it all: They've got the Germans' engineering prowess, the Scandinavians' ethereal good looks, the Americans' cheerful, laid-back friendliness, the Frenchmen's fashion sense, and a unique, funky style all their own. And they all whistle happy little tunes to themselves everywhere they go.

When I grow up I want to be Dutch.



JEM's Amsterdam cons:
1. Pot.

I don't have any pictures, not because there weren't plenty to be had, but rather because I would prefer to forget this aspect of the city. It reinforced my opposition to the legalization of marijuana, not for moral reasons so much as an effort to protect American society from the flood of obnoxiousness that apparently comes with its legalization. Namely, nightmarishly bad street musicians playing Bob Marley songs on toy guitars that haven't been tuned in decades. One of whom took up residence right under our hotel room window, alternating shifts periodically with the steel drummer, who I swear played the same song all afternoon, and, just as we were leaving, the didjeridu guy.

I'm certain legalized pot was also to blame for the guy who knocked over a recycling bin full of glass bottles right under our window at about 4 a.m. on the first night, and the guy who, the next night, in the early morning hours, went on a lenghty tirade below our window about paying for a house and telling the sober people reasoning with him that their explanations were "BOOOO-RING!"

We also had a gang of hari krishnas parade under our window at one point, singing and playing musical instruments, but I don't think that was a pot-related one. Mostly because their song was better.

I'm not going to say everybody should go to Amsterdam, like I did with Paris. But I'm glad I got to see it. And I hope I can go back again someday.



JEM