For the second leg of our trifceta of traveling weekends, we returned to Amsterdam for Julie's thirtieth birthday weekend - apparently we always celebrate birthdays in Amsterdam. We were fortunate enough to have booked our apartment rental in advance because the city was flooded with tourists for the blooming tulip fields. Friday was Julie's actual birthdate, thus we brought in the proverbial "Dirty Thirty" in a more literal fashion - meandering through the filthy streets and alleys of the Red Light District. There is a limited amount of time we could explore until the novelty is outweighed by depravity. For us, we ventured around the Dam District for a half hour, but we settled in a centrally located bar/arcade - an area primed for people watching. Oddly enough, the "Hangover Information Center" was opposite our window seat, adjacent to a traditional brothel window - an interesting and comical juxtaposition. Later, we returned to our apartment to enjoy the view overlooking a canal with glistening street lights reflecting off the calming water.
Hangover Information Center and Prostitute Windows
When we visited Amsterdam last summer, I was in the waning stages of my involuntary Salmonella Diet - severely limiting my gastronomic options to the blandest cuisines. We started our morning the same way we began our last visit, grabbing breakfast at Bakers and Roasters - a most delicious affair, especially since I wasn't limited to toast. After our meal, we made our way to the Van Gogh Museum, sped past the ridiculous line and waltzed right inside. Privilege rewards the prepared, always buy your tickets ahead of time, this way, there is no hassle of waiting in line. Our self-guided tour was ameliorated with the help of an audio guide which proved useful - explaining some of the many nuances we could have easily overlooked. By the time we finished the exhibit, the museum was holding an Art Class, free of cost to patrons.
Time to paint
Van Gogh's palette (before I was informed of no pictures)
Pretty sunflowers
Not having a plan to bridge the gap to our afternoon activity - this was the perfect opportunity to avoid the dreary weather. Julie painted a pretty picture of sunflowers while my lack of artistic ability was prominently displayed. Two hours were spent on my mess of a canvas; I was way in over my head and probably should have painted something more simple - like a smiley face. The employee/teacher made her best effort to remain positive with her critiques, but ultimately, she painted over my disaster to provide a better (scaled) outline. My artistic proportions were that of a person with one near-sighted and one far-sighted eye - looking through a series of Fun House mirrors. Seeming to have overstayed our welcome, we pressed on to the next museum, the Anne Frank House. Again, we purchased our tickets ahead of time, set for a specific hour in the afternoon - avoiding another long line. The home is a well preserved part of history and truly shows the extent to which Otto Frank and others sacrificed for survival during the Third Reich's occupation of the Netherlands. Unfortunately, the majority of those hiding perished after being exposed by an unknown informant. We spent the remaining hour of the afternoon walking the streets and canals, quickly developing an appetite.
One thing that has always struck me as odd about Amsterdam is the sheer abundance of Argentinian steak houses. The restaurant specialty is ubiquitous; imagine a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, if the scoop represents the city, then each chocolate chip is the equivalent of a Argentinian steak house. However, the flooded market of advertised steak houses convinced us to dine at one, settling on Cau - a phonetically appropriate venue. Our evening drew to a close, but we had a highly anticipated Sunday activity, visiting the famous Garden of Europe.
This time last year, we had just arrived in Germany, were living out of a few suitcases and some boxes. Our semblance of stability was awry, and a difficult time to plan a present for Julie's birthday. It was our second day in the country and I had zero ideas for her special day. I scoured the city of Landstuhl for gifts and ended up finding a vendor who sold fresh tulips, Julie's favorite flower - great success! Fast forward a year. To celebrate her thirtieth, a few tulips wouldn't due, thus, we headed to the Keukenhof, the land of tulip fields.
Lisse is about a half hour southwest of Amsterdam and the one lane traffic makes the last kilometer painstakingly frustrating, but worth the effort. The line for tickets was minimal, but we had previously bought ours online in the event a mass of tour groups descended upon the gardens. The entrance may have not been crowded, but once inside - a sea of people coursed through the pathways.
Our first impression of the Keukenhof made us wonder why we don't have our own elaborate, radiant garden full of color. Then we realized, neither of us have the so-called "green thumb." In fact, we inherited three cacti in our home when moving - they have since perished. We couldn't even care for succulents, plants that require the least responsibility and are essentially a step above caring for a fake plant. I digress. The Keukenhof is beautiful, the gardens are manicured to perfection and the fields in the distance urges one to explore. To get another perspective, we took a boat tour through the canals that transect the floral farms. Unfortunately, the weather wasn't cooperative and some of the land had been harvested for sale - thus, we shivered whilst looking at immense fields of dirt piles.
Since we found the boat ride underwhelming, we had a more active plan - ride bikes through the area in search of colorful pastures. This venture proved to be a far more enjoyable experience, except the route we were looking for had zero signs. Instead, we aimlessly biked through various areas exploring the tulip fields - having so munch fun that we found it difficult to leave. The long drive home was a distant burden we preferred to ignore. We returned our bicycles and tried our best to race to the Belgian border, however; our preoccupation with the botanical gardens delayed us from our goal of a Belgian Beer Run. Similar to the boat ride, our hopes were high, but were dashed at the last minute - we arrived fifteen minutes too late. After eating dinner at a pizzeria, we cried the rest of the way home.
What European city would be best to host Jimfest? Suitable for both a birthday and a final bender before fatherhood.
Hmmm...Amsterdam, here we come.
A prudent decision to celebrate an imprudent binge. Our friends hoped a short flight from Norway and we stuck with the terrestrial convenience of driving. Everyone arrived late Friday evening and due to our establishments being in opposite districts of the city - we called it a night and would rest up for the next day and a half.
Saturday morning we met up for brunch at Bakers and Roasters, a New Zealand owned establishment with delicious breakfast comfort foods. Here, we were introduced to the remaining Jimfest attendees - adding to the Norwegian invasion, although; only one member of our horde was officially from Norge. After brunch, we made our way to a street festival a few blocks away and continued to explore the city. Note, walking around Amsterdam is dangerous, the bicycles are bipedal battering rams and have complete disregard for all foot and vehicular traffic.
For the afternoon, we planned to tour the House of Bols and learn about the history of Genever - a local liquor specialty, followed with appropriate indulgences. Unfortunately, Julie hates gin (similar to Genever) and I was in the waning stages of my involuntarily imposed Salmonella diet - therefore, we couldn't stomach the event. Instead, we walked around the area near the Rijksmuseum - relaxing at a local cafe before heading back to the House of Bols.
Park in front of Rijksmuseum
When we returned, the employees of the House of A-holes (Bols) treated us like we were street rats. We asked if we could go into their bar to look for our friends who just completed their tour. Of course we could, but for the price of a tour ticket. No drifter access - even if you are just trying to reconnect with friends (or if you just want to get a drink at their bar). Eventually, the employees high-browed us out of their establishment once they realized we weren't going to be making any purchases. After being asked to leave the House of A-holes, we sat on a stoop and watched the line at the Van Gough museum slowly stagnate. Twenty minutes had passed by the time we were able to reconnect with our group using Viber on the local wireless internet. Our friends still had some drinks to finish and would be a little longer.
Canal and Westerkerk
Admiring house boats
While we waited, Nature beckoned, but we had no where to go - so why not annoy the House of A-Holes employees. To do so, we walked back in and were greeted with Dutch snarls - however, we disregarded their existence and walked to the bathrooms. A rather classless gesture, but the ends justified the means. Once our reconnaissance mission was complete and we still had some time to fill before going out to dinner - a perfect time to voyage the canals of Amsterdam.
One of many canals
Bikes:Amsterdam as A-Holes:House of Bols
Canal behind Rijksmuseum
Our friends were full of Genever and I was highly-caffeinated on coffee - what better way to exhaust our energy than paddle boat through the canals. Before we boarded our vessels, a family just disembarked on theirs. The parents seated in the back and three young children in the front - a cute, but incredibly ill-conceived decision. They drifted their way into the middle of the canal, but weren't moving anywhere. Then, a 40-foot tour boat maintained a collision course through the middle of the canal periodically blowing their horn. The children feverishly pedaled, but the boat remained idle due to the dead weight in the back seats. The boat sounded its horn a few more times as it approached and it appeared to have no intention of stopping. As if it all happened in slow motion - the boat hit the family in the paddle boat head on, a most scaring experience for the screaming children. A few minutes later the family was able to move their paddle boat to the far side of the canal.
Family being terrorized by large boat
And we're off
Commence beer hand-off
Maneuvering canal with ease
Let's keep going...you sure?
Another large boat
After our literal crash course on canal safety and priorities, we boarded our boat and were on our way. We had no trouble maneuvering our man-powered water chariot - circumventing boats, other paddle boaters - even completing precise beer hand-offs of between boats. We even took on a bridge underpass side by side - hand in hand, Thelma and Louise to the end. We explored the canals for an hour before returning to paddling headquarters, where we would dock and return to land. Strangely enough, while observing the struggles of newly disembarking paddlers, we saw two boats hit each other. The two captains yelled at each other, but we didn't stick around for the conclusion.
Westerkerk, burial site of Rembrandt
Maybe a better location for paddle boating families
The rest of the afternoon was spent exploring the city and canals from a safer distance. We enjoyed dinner downtown where I got another Dutch jeer while ordering a meal. Being that I was on the tail end of my Salmonella diet, I wasn't going to risk getting any meals other than plain rice or noodles. When asking for the blandest of meals, the waitress did her best to treat me like a xenophobe afraid to try bread. Our group would split up after dinner, the more lively half went to a concert while the boring married couples went to see Boom Chicago - an improv group based in Amsterdam the last twenty years.
The feature show we saw was called, "What's up with those Beards?" a very entertaining production and the performers didn't have to pull any teeth to get the audience to participate. We left the theater around 22:00 and the night was still young, the air was fresh and it was time to see the other half of Amsterdam.
We headed to the famous Red Light District, an area that needs no further description unless you were raised in a Puritan household. No pictures are allowed in the district, but you would need to Purell your eyes after witnessing such depravity in action. There were hordes of men lining the streets, mostly window shopping, but of course, there were customers out there. We saw an elderly Asian man standing alone, stark naked for reasons unknown, but could be inferred.
Those wanting to conceal their shame employed a noticeable exit strategy - stare at the ground and quickly abscond into the crowd. As time wore on, the quote of our weekend trip was coined when walking through the district longer than most married couples presumably visit. Jim drunkenly quiped, "sooo, what's our end game here?" A humorous way of putting how each of us probably felt at the time. We had overstayed our welcome and we all needed to undergo decontamination procedures after visiting. The next day we would stimulate our art and cultural sides with a visit to the Rijksmuseum.
Day Two
The next morning we met up in the Museum Square before heading into the Rijksmuseum. The building is massive and is home to numerous exhibits. The Rijksmuseum had a wonderful featured exhibit, "Art is Therapy,"
We walked through each room, reading the different exhibit exposes and also admired the more famous works. We saw a Van Gough self-portrait, a four-meter long model of the William Rex , ending with the very impressive works of Rembrandt. Everyone enjoyed our visit and each of us spoke of our collective fascination with "Art is Therapy." We all seemed to be most impressed with the "therapy" of Rembrandt's The Jewish Bride - a perspective that may have easily been overlooked to our untrained interpretation of art.
Famous sign as seen from inside Rijksmuseum
The Jewish Bride
Blurry Art is Therapy interpretation of The Jewish Bride
More "Art is Therapy"
BAT Bantam fighter biplane, on the top floor of all places
Van Gough Self-Portrait, would probably cut both ears off if he heard the word, "selfie."
Large model of the William Rex
The Night Watch
Perspective on size of painting
Unfortunately, this was the end of the line for Julie and myself - Jimfest was a wild success, but we had a long drive home. Julie and I wanted to stop in Belgium along the way for dinner and to purchase beer. We found a small restaurant and grocery store off the main road where we had dinner and shopped at the store. Lucky for us, the store was open until 18:00, leaving us 8 minutes and the store was still packed with customers. We grabbed a shopping cart and loaded it up with beer - not sure how the public viewed this, but Belgians make the best beer in the world - it was a necessity. The weekend went by too quick, but was an incredibly memorable one. We will most definitely be returning to explore the other attractions and museums of Amsterdam.
End to a great weekend
Dinner and a beer run.
We found the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant, Evergreen Terrace must be close by.
