I went to Amsterdam this week, with Joy. And it was very good. Excellent even.
I first became aware of the Netherlands during the World Cup of 1978. They were nearly undone by Archie Gemmill's wonder goal for Scotland in the group stage, but then, after that scare, they managed to get all the way to the final. Despite their ability to play the so-called Total Football, they mostly seemed to win their games in 78 by smashing the ball into the net from absolutely miles out. Some of their shots seemed to originate in space. This was especially necessary against the ultra-defensive Italians. It was the only way, as they couldn't get anywhere near the goal. like this..
Although the Dutch lost in the final to Argentina, they became my second favourite team from then on (actually considering England were my number one team, they were pretty much my first favourite team).
In the year 2000 I read the book Brilliant Orange by David Winner, and if I didn't like the Dutch before, I did then. His literally brilliant book interweaves the story of Dutch football with the story of the Dutch themselves, and it's wonderful.
I have to admit, I did sort of go off the Dutch in 2010 when their football team got to the World Cup Final again, only to try and win the thing by forgetting they were Dutch, and kicking lumps out of Spain in a mostly forgettable kung fu fighting yellow-card-a-thon, which was a million miles from 1978. But then in 2014 there was Robin van Persie's header, and all was well again.
Anyway, my love for the Netherlands came flooding back to as soon as I arrived on Sunday in Amsterdam. All the signs are in English, the taxi driver wore a tie and was very polite, the hotel was a beautiful converted College full of eager trainee hospitality staff, and there are bikes everywhere. But not bikes full of middle-aged men in lycra, bulging out everywhere. They're full of stylishly dressed Dutch people, making it all look effortless and relaxed.
I know the English have a reputation for not learning languages, but nowhere is as easy to get away with this as the Netherlands. If the locals speak Dutch to you and you clearly don't understand, they effortlessly switch to perfect English. If you don't understand the Dutch menu, just turn it over and there's English on the other side!
Sunday evening, shortly after checking in, we went for a meal to a place called Bouf, just a short walk from the hotel. The lighting was so subdued I couldn't read the menu. This contributed somewhat to both of us deciding to have the 4 course 'Chef's Choice', which was just whatever he felt like bringing us. This began with an amuse-bouche, or appetiser of a small piece of meat on a piece of slate. This panicked me as I worried it might be one of the four courses but it wasn't, and it was followed by a veggie risotto course, a fish soup, a meat course and a pudding. None of the courses were very big, and I didn't really stop being hungry all night, but I liked the surprise aspect.
The restaurant is on a bend in the cycle path, so while you're sat there, you see a never ending stream of cyclists riding directly towards you, but then veering off at the last minute. And mopeds. For some reason mopeds are allowed on the cycle path. They even have some really tiny two seater cars, that are a bit like mobility scooters, and you can ride them on their too. Who'd have thought it?
The guidebook says Amsterdam is pretty small, so you can walk all around it quite easily in about 45 minutes, but a bit like Tony Blair and the deployment of those non-existent WMD, this estimate didn't turn out to be quite true. Despite that, after breakfast on Monday (at Wildschut) we tried to do just that. It probably helps if you walk in a straight line, instead of around in circles, but hey ho!
The weather was beautiful on Monday and so is the Museum District with its big open green spaces, and as well as going there, we also found the Vondelpark, and walked round there too. After we'd walked ourselves almost to a standstill we stopped off for some Bitterballen (veggie goo in batter) and chips with mayonnaise, and then carried on towards the City Centre. The queue for Anne Frank house was massive, so it was just as well we didn't really want to go there anyway.
Also, there were millions of boat tours going on, but they all had rooves on, and the boats looked like mobile greenhouses except for instead of tomatoes they seemed to be growing old people, and it was too sunny to be under a roof, so we hired a pedalo and explored the canals that way instead. An excellent decision.
After pedalling round for an hour, we got back on dry land and stopped at another cafe. The service was very slow, and it took most of the day to get our order. I had a Dutch sausage toastie with tabasco and cheese, and Joy had a BLT. We were in there so long, we gave up on trying to find the red light district that day, and decided to head back to the hotel. Due to the foot knack we were now suffering from, we had to make one more stop on the way back to rest our feet and eat some giant pancakes. It was nearly 5 by the time we'd had those, so it kind of ruined our appetite for a big dinner. As a result we popped in to a deli on the way back and bought wine, cooked meat and some crackers and had that for tea instead of going out again.
Tuesday we were up early to go the Rijksmuseum. It was another beautiful sunny day, and we stopped at a bakery for a breakfast of coffee and pastries, where again the lady who served us spoke immaculate English, and then we went to look at some art.
I've sometimes found art galleries boring, especially when they're full of 200 identical portraits in gold frames, but some of the stuff in the Rijksmuseum is really good. They've even got really famous stuff I've seen in books or on TV, and even though a lot of the paintings are worth billions, you can go right up to them and lean in with your face and look at the brush strokes. And a lot of them are 400 years old, but they look new, like they were just painted yesterday. They're not at all dusty.
There was a self-portrait by Van Gogh and the Milk Maid by Vermeer, and the Night Watch by Rembrandt, but my favourite was a village scene from the 1600s. In the days before photos and Facebook, where people now feel the need to do a status update just because they've eaten an orange, all those people would have lived and died their whole lives unseen and unknown by history, and the only record would be paintings. I know nothing about art but what I noticed was how real and 3d many of the images appeared, and also how fine details like velvet and the pages of books were rendered with an almost photographic quality by the artists. Speaking as someone who can't draw at all, I found it all pretty impressive.
After the museum, we had a waffle each (I had mine with cherries and whipped cream) and then we caught a tram into the city to find the red light district. We could tell we were getting close when it started to look a lot like Blackpool sea front, and when the smell of weed was in the air. At first it was just shops selling sex toys and bondage gear, but then I saw what I assumed at first glance to be the most lifelike tailor's dummy I'd ever seen. When she started moving around, I realised of course it was a prostitute in the window. There were quite a few more in the windows next door, and although I didn't like to make eye contact, they mostly were on their phones looking pretty bored. There seemed to be one street in particular where the windows were mostly full of large black women. A lot of the windows were empty or had curtains drawn, so I guess they were either on a break or had customers.
I'd started to wonder if it was possible to get high from second hand smoke, since the stench of drugs was pretty overpowering, but decided to challenge my equilibrium further by having a beer. I don't really like beer, but somehow it tastes nicer abroad. Joy had one too, and then nearly walked under the wheels of a muttering woman on a bike. After that, we were going to go into the Botanical Gardens, but didn't bother because of the entrance fee, and we also went to the outside of Rembrandt's house and didn't go in there either, but I had a Rembrandt burger from just round the corner, and we shared another beer.
It was sunny and warm and it was great to be able to sit outside with a drink at the end of October while it's raining at home. We got another series of trams back to the hotel by about 5, and feeling knackered we didn't want to go out for a meal, so had one in the hotel instead, although it turned out to be very small. It was all very nicely presented and tasty, but sometimes what you really want is just a big plate of stodge.
I felt very sad that night and the next morning that our short time in Amsterdam was over. I knew I'd miss the mood of the place and the lifestyle and the little bakeries and the people and the works of art, and the weather and the sitting outside with a beer. The hotel staff asked me on checkout how many I'd give the hotel out of 10 and, without thinking about it too much, I said 8. I never like to give anyone a 10 because there's always room for improvement. But then they made me justify the two marks I'd knocked off, so I ended up getting into a protracted discussion about what they could do to improve the place, but it was early and I just wanted to go really. I had a plane to catch.
Having said that, the hotel was generally excellent, in fact one of the nicest hotels I've ever stayed in, although they didn't give us any complimentary coffees on the last day, and they gave us one pillow which had no filling and which was like sleeping on a pillow that didn't exist. Oh, and also the room had the most confusing system of switching lights on and off I've ever seen. It seemed to be only possible to switch lights on and off from the opposite side of the room to where the lights were. But all these things are minor, first-world quibbles. It's a lovely building, and the rooms are great, and the staff were all incredibly polite and helpful.
Coming back to England, it was of course raining in Manchester, and it was full of English people, and I missed the Dutch with their 'sit up and beg' bikes and their relaxed multi-lingual natures. Going abroad is like holding a mirror up to your own country, and since I've been back, the parts of England I've been spending time in, just seem that little bit more bland after Amsterdam.
I first became aware of the Netherlands during the World Cup of 1978. They were nearly undone by Archie Gemmill's wonder goal for Scotland in the group stage, but then, after that scare, they managed to get all the way to the final. Despite their ability to play the so-called Total Football, they mostly seemed to win their games in 78 by smashing the ball into the net from absolutely miles out. Some of their shots seemed to originate in space. This was especially necessary against the ultra-defensive Italians. It was the only way, as they couldn't get anywhere near the goal. like this..
Although the Dutch lost in the final to Argentina, they became my second favourite team from then on (actually considering England were my number one team, they were pretty much my first favourite team).
In the year 2000 I read the book Brilliant Orange by David Winner, and if I didn't like the Dutch before, I did then. His literally brilliant book interweaves the story of Dutch football with the story of the Dutch themselves, and it's wonderful.
I have to admit, I did sort of go off the Dutch in 2010 when their football team got to the World Cup Final again, only to try and win the thing by forgetting they were Dutch, and kicking lumps out of Spain in a mostly forgettable kung fu fighting yellow-card-a-thon, which was a million miles from 1978. But then in 2014 there was Robin van Persie's header, and all was well again.
 |
| The College Hotel, Amsterdam |
 |
| Look out! It's rush hour... |
Sunday evening, shortly after checking in, we went for a meal to a place called Bouf, just a short walk from the hotel. The lighting was so subdued I couldn't read the menu. This contributed somewhat to both of us deciding to have the 4 course 'Chef's Choice', which was just whatever he felt like bringing us. This began with an amuse-bouche, or appetiser of a small piece of meat on a piece of slate. This panicked me as I worried it might be one of the four courses but it wasn't, and it was followed by a veggie risotto course, a fish soup, a meat course and a pudding. None of the courses were very big, and I didn't really stop being hungry all night, but I liked the surprise aspect.
 |
| Bouf! |
 |
| Museumplein Amsterdam |
 |
| At the Vondelpark on Monday |
Also, there were millions of boat tours going on, but they all had rooves on, and the boats looked like mobile greenhouses except for instead of tomatoes they seemed to be growing old people, and it was too sunny to be under a roof, so we hired a pedalo and explored the canals that way instead. An excellent decision.
After pedalling round for an hour, we got back on dry land and stopped at another cafe. The service was very slow, and it took most of the day to get our order. I had a Dutch sausage toastie with tabasco and cheese, and Joy had a BLT. We were in there so long, we gave up on trying to find the red light district that day, and decided to head back to the hotel. Due to the foot knack we were now suffering from, we had to make one more stop on the way back to rest our feet and eat some giant pancakes. It was nearly 5 by the time we'd had those, so it kind of ruined our appetite for a big dinner. As a result we popped in to a deli on the way back and bought wine, cooked meat and some crackers and had that for tea instead of going out again.
Tuesday we were up early to go the Rijksmuseum. It was another beautiful sunny day, and we stopped at a bakery for a breakfast of coffee and pastries, where again the lady who served us spoke immaculate English, and then we went to look at some art.
 |
| Here I am somewhere near the Night Watch by Rembrandt |
There was a self-portrait by Van Gogh and the Milk Maid by Vermeer, and the Night Watch by Rembrandt, but my favourite was a village scene from the 1600s. In the days before photos and Facebook, where people now feel the need to do a status update just because they've eaten an orange, all those people would have lived and died their whole lives unseen and unknown by history, and the only record would be paintings. I know nothing about art but what I noticed was how real and 3d many of the images appeared, and also how fine details like velvet and the pages of books were rendered with an almost photographic quality by the artists. Speaking as someone who can't draw at all, I found it all pretty impressive.
After the museum, we had a waffle each (I had mine with cherries and whipped cream) and then we caught a tram into the city to find the red light district. We could tell we were getting close when it started to look a lot like Blackpool sea front, and when the smell of weed was in the air. At first it was just shops selling sex toys and bondage gear, but then I saw what I assumed at first glance to be the most lifelike tailor's dummy I'd ever seen. When she started moving around, I realised of course it was a prostitute in the window. There were quite a few more in the windows next door, and although I didn't like to make eye contact, they mostly were on their phones looking pretty bored. There seemed to be one street in particular where the windows were mostly full of large black women. A lot of the windows were empty or had curtains drawn, so I guess they were either on a break or had customers.
I'd started to wonder if it was possible to get high from second hand smoke, since the stench of drugs was pretty overpowering, but decided to challenge my equilibrium further by having a beer. I don't really like beer, but somehow it tastes nicer abroad. Joy had one too, and then nearly walked under the wheels of a muttering woman on a bike. After that, we were going to go into the Botanical Gardens, but didn't bother because of the entrance fee, and we also went to the outside of Rembrandt's house and didn't go in there either, but I had a Rembrandt burger from just round the corner, and we shared another beer.
It was sunny and warm and it was great to be able to sit outside with a drink at the end of October while it's raining at home. We got another series of trams back to the hotel by about 5, and feeling knackered we didn't want to go out for a meal, so had one in the hotel instead, although it turned out to be very small. It was all very nicely presented and tasty, but sometimes what you really want is just a big plate of stodge.
I felt very sad that night and the next morning that our short time in Amsterdam was over. I knew I'd miss the mood of the place and the lifestyle and the little bakeries and the people and the works of art, and the weather and the sitting outside with a beer. The hotel staff asked me on checkout how many I'd give the hotel out of 10 and, without thinking about it too much, I said 8. I never like to give anyone a 10 because there's always room for improvement. But then they made me justify the two marks I'd knocked off, so I ended up getting into a protracted discussion about what they could do to improve the place, but it was early and I just wanted to go really. I had a plane to catch.
Having said that, the hotel was generally excellent, in fact one of the nicest hotels I've ever stayed in, although they didn't give us any complimentary coffees on the last day, and they gave us one pillow which had no filling and which was like sleeping on a pillow that didn't exist. Oh, and also the room had the most confusing system of switching lights on and off I've ever seen. It seemed to be only possible to switch lights on and off from the opposite side of the room to where the lights were. But all these things are minor, first-world quibbles. It's a lovely building, and the rooms are great, and the staff were all incredibly polite and helpful.
Coming back to England, it was of course raining in Manchester, and it was full of English people, and I missed the Dutch with their 'sit up and beg' bikes and their relaxed multi-lingual natures. Going abroad is like holding a mirror up to your own country, and since I've been back, the parts of England I've been spending time in, just seem that little bit more bland after Amsterdam.
