The train trip from Brussels to Amsterdam took 2 3/4 hours. The train shuttled peacefully along until Rotterdam, when our quiet car was enlivened by a group of six 40ish women with nose rings, teased hair of many unnatural colors, and an amalgam of gothic, retro, and fetish clothing. They spoke Dutch but their conversation was littered with familiar phrases: Facebook, iPhone, Lady Gaga, Las Vegas. Everything about them — their laidback outrageousness, their savvy awareness and acceptance of the outside world –was so modernly Dutch that they seemed like harbingers of the great city where we would spend the next two nights: Amsterdam!
When we arrived in Amsterdam, the sun was, amazingly, shining. Both Mr. P and I had been to Amsterdam before we met and neither of us saw the sun. We were so enraptured that we stood outside of the train station with our gigantic backpacks, trying to bask.
Amsterdam Train Station
We walked more than 1 mile to our hotel along the main tourist thoroughfare, loving the canals, the bicycles, and even the stoned tourists. How amazing that a city this size and in this climate can function primarily on bicycles. It gives me hope about the future, though Amsterdam’s discord with the automobile is intrinsic to its anatomy of small streets and canals.
Bicycles
It was too early to check into the hotel so we dropped off our backpacks and visited some nearby museums. The term “museum” in Amsterdam can involve anything from Van Gogh and Anne Frank to vodka, sex, tulips, torture, and beer. Our first stop was the Museum Willet-Holtuysen, a preserved 17th-century canalside home that featured the expansive art collection of the last inhabitants. Our second stop was the Amsterdam Historical Museum, where we were immersed in Amsterdam’s origins and history. When we emerged from the museum, it was dusk at 4:30pm and time to go back to the hotel.
Dusk in Amsterdam
At the front desk, a cheerful woman who spoke impeccable English handed us our key and gave us directions to our room. We were excited about this high-class boutique hotel with bargain low-season rates, and when we opened the door to our room we were stunned: It was huge! It had a private balcony overlooking a courtyard! It had pop-art style paintings of Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe and a small podium for the bed! I whirled around the room, my arms wide and wondrous. But… wait, is that someone’s suitcase? And hey, there’s some shirts hanging in the closest? And why’s there a half-eaten chocolate bar next to the bed?
Mr. P went downstairs to reception, returning 5 minutes later with keys to a different room: “It was a big mistake. We should have never been here,” he said, gathering up the contents of his pockets that he had scattered on the desk. “Close the bathroom door! Turn out the light! Leave no trace!”
Our real room was smaller but had a view of the canal. We showered, relaxed, and then headed back out for some Indian food.
“Our” Canal
We woke up the next morning and luxuriated in our free breakfast — toast! ham! cheese! kiwi? Then we walked along the canals until we reached the Museumplein and the famed Rijksmuseum. We paused to admire the mansions across the canal and to bask a little more in the uncharacteristic Amsterdam sun.
The Rijksmuseum is operating on reduced capacity as it undergoes renovations; only one wing is open, and the selected works are sort of a “best of” of Dutch art. We studied the Rembrandts, the Vermeers, and the Steens with help of our trusty audio guides. Yet it only took us 90 minutes to go through the entire collection — and we took our time! It ended with Rembrandt’s Night Watch, but my favorite is Frans Hal’s Portrait of a Young Couple. It’s not the most beautiful painting, but I feel like I can relate to them, which is not typically a thought I have when looking at 17th century portraiture.
Frans Hals’ Portrait of a Young Couple
We continued our museum bonanza by going to Museum Van Loon, another rich family’s canal house-turned-public exhibit.
Garden of Museum Van Loon
Museum Van Loon
We swore off museums for the rest of the day and simply walked through the city, idly shopping and taking pictures.
Our hotel was located right near Amsterdam’s Winterland, a seasonal park with a skating rink and assortment of carnival games. Is this as close as we got to an Amsterdam coffeeshop? No comment…
Skating Rink
We were so smitten with Amsterdam that, as we dined on ostrich at a fun little French place, we were already dreading our departure the next day, which happened to be Thanksgiving. We woke up and enjoyed another nice breakfast, taking care to sample some of the turkey-looking cold cuts.
Our train was scheduled for 12:58, so in the morning we checked out of the hotel, left our bags, and went to the nearby Hermitage museum, a Dutch outpost of the famed Russian art museum that was showing a special exhibit on Alexander the Great. We dawdled on this and then rushed to the train station, where we were met with an unpleasant surprise: our train to Brussels was canceled due to a rail strike in Belgium! This was a disaster, because if we took the next scheduled train, we would probably miss the Eurostar train that we were counting on to deliver us to England; no Thanksgiving dinner with Mr. P’s family? Well, if you have money, there’s always a way. We paid a fair sum to take the high-speed train to Brussels, where the Eurostar awaited…
