American Perspective of Amsterdam
As we exited the station after ten hours of sitting upright on an overnight train, our first thought in Amsterdam was, “Gross!”
There was trash everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I mean in the street, on the sidewalks, overflowing the bins, and piled high in mountains of bags. My traveling companion, Melissa, said to me, “I never heard of Amsterdam being a particularly dirty city…” You know, in the literal sense.
We sloshed our way through garbage juice to our hostel. It looked like a cool place on first inspection, despite the fact that its neighbors were stores the likes of which I hadn’t seen in any US city.
We couldn’t get into our room, it being only 10:00, so we decided that while we were stuck waiting, we should take a free walking tour.
There was an impromptu book market happening near Dam Square, where the tour would start. Melissa and I browsed a bit, but unfortunately the train ride from Munich had taken its toll. Both of us uncomfortable, and a little bit testy, we sat down to wait for our tour guide.
To our pleasure, the tour was outstanding. Bernard, our Irish guide, was funny, charismatic, and incredibly knowledgeable. He explained to us that there had been a two-week trash strike, which had only ended that very morning. With the information he also imparted to us about the city, Amsterdam suddenly went from a dirty, uncomfortable place to a quaint, progressive, awesome stop on our Euro trip.
Before we left the tour, Bernard mentioned he would be leading another one that evening, through the Red Light district. As Melissa and I were to be staying there, we thought it an excellent idea to familiarize ourselves with our surroundings—preferably in the company of a professional guide.
In the mean time, though, we went back to our hostel for a little rest.
Our room, when we found it, had a picture of kissing bunnies on the door. How cute! On the inside, there were three larger-than-life paintings of semi-nude women spanning the walls. Huh. Well if we weren’t sure we were in Amsterdam before…
The Red Light tour was also great. Not once during the whole outing did we feel unsafe, which is more than I can say for parts of New York at any time of the day. At the end of the tour, we found ourselves in a bar with a free shot of Jäger for each of us.
We sniffed the drink. Licorice! Both Melissa and I hate licorice. But the problem was, if you refuse a shot to begin with, then fine, you just don’t drink. But if you accept the shot and then try to give it back… it just isn’t done. Melissa said she could not take the shot, and I told her she damn well had to. I said, “on the count of three,” and lo and behold, we both took our first and last shots of Jäger.
Needing to cleanse our palates directly, we went down the street to get some gelato, passing the Condomerie and the Old Church in the process. What a bizarre place Amsterdam was, but definitely a good one, too.
The next morning dawned bright and pleasant, and we decided it would be a nice day to go to the Van Gogh Museum and the Anne Frank House. When we tried to take the tram to the first venue, we got off at the wrong stop. Suddenly, looming over us was the Heineken factory. I said to Melissa, “Well, it wasn’t on our list of things to do, but now that we’re here, we should add it and cross it off!”
Then we had to keep our noses to our maps in order to find our way to the museum.
Although it certainly was lovely, we could feel the energy leaking out of our bodies. Museum weariness tends to affect me more than the average traveler, and I know Melissa was feeling it too. So what should we decide to do, but head over to the Secret Annex!
This was a sobering event. To be in Anne Frank’s room, to see the wallpaper she decorated with her own hands, and to look out of the attic to the same tree she often wrote about, was incredibly moving.
Of course, while we were in Munich we had gone to the Dachau Memorial site, so by then I was becoming weighed down by so many Jewish oppression activities. Although definitely worthwhile, they tend not to be very much fun.
After a dinner of fries and waffles, Melissa and I went around to some of the souvenir shops. I noticed they all sold these wooden tulips, and I decided I would bring a vase of them back. Melissa may have wanted to kill me over the fuss I made about them. I went to the same stores again and again, exchanging, returning, deliberating over these one-Euro flowers that would probably break on the way home anyway.
Of course we went to the real flower market the next day, where we tried to buy real tulips for our Moms, but we wondered what would happen in Customs. We could say we forgot about them if worse came to worse, but we hoped no one would even notice. Trying to rationalize not declaring the bulbs, Melissa said, “It’s not as if one infected flower could start an epidemic…” Ha.
On our last day in Amsterdam, we wondered whether we should smoke some pot. Or rather, ingest some, as neither of us can stomach the smell of cannabis. We imagined ourselves going into a coffee shop and asking whether they had Brownies - Wink, Wink.
This thought alone made us not do it. Instead, we went on a canal cruise. I would love to tell you how it went, but you’d have to get in touch with Melissa about that, because unfortunately I was asleep for most of it. Those boats can be so damn soothing!
As we made our way back to the train station the next morning, now regarding it with fondness for being one of our central landmarks, we were excited to be continuing our trip, but a little bit sad to go. One of my favorite things about Amsterdam was how much it had exceeded my expectations.
“Ready to go, Melis?” Melissa asked me. So we said our goodbyes to Amsterdam, and a big “bonjour” to Paris.
- Melissa Ludwig
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