Amsterdam, The Netherlands 4/21/07

It’s morning here in Amsterdam. A cool crisp day and when I went out for a run at about 7:30 a.m. I could see my breath. By the end of a few laps around Vondelpark, and a figure 8 or two on the many beautiful paths that cut in and out through the center, the visual reminder of my breathing was gone and the sun was growing in intensity. It will be another great day in Amsterdam just like the last 3 days have been here, for both environmental conditions and also cultural experiences.


Before I get to the aspects of Amsterdam that most tourists talk about let me start by saying it’s a beautiful city. It is without a doubt a favorite of my travels. With the curving streets, canals, cyclists, flowers in bloom, beautiful parks, historic architecture, and even a random windmill, there are no shortages of amazing views and photographs to been seen and taken.

Vondelpark in particular was a favorite place of mine and I’ll dedicate at least a paragraph to it because I don’t think I have any pictures of it. I did have two gorgeous runs there though so there are a few dozen images burned into my memory. Spring has only recently arrived here so not all the flowers are in bloom yet but the lush green grass and tall trees are patiently waiting for them and when they do I think the park will look even more amazing. The thought of which is hard to imagine.

Amsterdam has also restored my tolerance, and hope, for museums. We visited the Van Gogh Museum and enjoyed it immensely. It’s a light, airy museum that even made Van Gogh's early darker work seem a little less bleak. The crowds were there but moved steadily and less chaotic than Florence.


You could also get real close to the paintings. There was just a little chord that kept the orderly crowd back about 2.5 feet from the art. You could see the layers of paint, the brush strokes, the melting of colors. By the time we got to his more famous, recognizable pieces I was already impressed. Vincent you are now officially my favorite painter! There wasn’t one before you but I know I’ll always feel a little impressed from now on when I see one of your paintings. Having a song written about you by Don McLean doesn’t hurt either.


I did notice that my standard “I” changed to a “we” in the last couple paragraphs. Yes, another friend joined the adventure for a day, another Backpacker friend from Thailand, Floor. She is from The Netherlands and lives in Antwerp. When she got the update that I would be in the neighborhood we made plans to meet up. She took an early train to Amsterdam on Friday and gave me a crash course on the culture of the Old Grand Duchy.


I had a great time in Amsterdam before Floor arrived but looking back on my days here it is clear things just escalated each day. My final full day in town, with Floor, was Amazing! Not since Beijing heave I had a day of such fun cultural experiences none of which were described in a guide book. I’m getting ahead of myself though, lets back up to day one in Amsterdam.

I’m staying at a fun hostel called The Flying Pig, Uptown. I settled in quick and found a grocery store for some home cooked meals over my short stay. They have a cozy kitchen with one big table in the center where everyone eats. It’s functional as well as very conducive to making friends. By the end of my salad I had met two girls from Finland (Millna & Minja) and a guy from Quebec. We called him John but I think his name was something more French sounding that he didn’t feel like explaining. By the time I finished my lasagna we were all heading for a pint in the bar connected to the kitchen. Another Canadian guy, Mike from Alberta, who was sleeping in the bed below mine, also joined us. Just like that another group of friends was created.

My previous nights in Cologne were pretty late and expensive, and knowing I had two more nights in Amsterdam, I had decided upon arrival that I would lay low the first evening. I’m proud to say I stuck to my original intention even though that still meant hanging at the downstairs bar until 1 a.m. When the gang decided to hit the town I went to bed. A technical victory for discipline!

Looking back on this decision I have no regrets even though it put me on an opposite schedule of my new friends. After my full day of sightseeing on day two I was ready to hit the town that night. The hostel gang instead spent most of the day recovering from the night before and weren’t up for back to back Amsterdam nights. This time after a few pints at the Flying Pig Bar I headed out on the town and they stayed. Flying solo into the Red Light District of Amsterdam at 10 p.m., it’s the perfect setting for a classic story and as expected the circumstances needed for that story just seemed to unfold in front of me.


My plan was to stroll around the district and see what this legendary area of sin looked like at night. I had already wandered through the area earlier in the day so I had an idea of what to expect. To provide a brief description, it is like a physically cleaner, nicer, version of the French Quarter in New Orleans without having the Bible belt above it. Another comparison would be its like Las Vegas without the corporations. And the stuff from the back room in Vegase moved, literally, to the front window.

I figured I would have a beer or two and then head back to the Leides Plein area near my hostel to wrap up the night. It’s a short tram ride from my hostel, about 15 minutes, to where I wandered into the District and by the time I got there I needed to use a restroom. A lot of information I know but it provides the motivation that led me into my classic night.

On the very edge of what would lead into the Red Light District I saw a nice bar with tons of people on the second floor. The windows were open and you could tell by the singing, yelling, and dancing it was a good time. Perfect I thought. Go to the bathroom and have a beer before heading into the chaos.

The ground floor of the bar was quiet and it took me a minute to find the door to the stairs that led up. I walked right past a doorman that I didn’t notice at first. He gave me a second look but didn’t say anything so I kept on going. I checked the restroom off of my To Do list and headed into the bar area for a beer.


The place was packed! It was wall to wall people. I even had to knock on the French doors that separated the restroom hallway from the bar and get a few people to move so I could squeeze into the place. It felt like a bar from my freshman college year, only full of people in their mid to upper 20’s rather than hovering very close to the 18 to 20 range. The music was straight up rock and roll at a volume just above loud but below offensive. The lights were turned low but not off. The neon beer signs provided the only other lighting effects you needed. The windows were open but it was still hot and humid inside. Not a club but a proper bar. I was happy.

I smiled at strangers like they were old friends as I made my way to the bar at the short end of the rectangular room. I shouted “lager” at the waiting bartender and he poured me a half pint. When I handed him a 5 Euro note he looked at the other bartender, said something to him, then turned back to me. As he handed me my money back he said “It’s free, compliments of the Association.” I gave a quick thanks and made my way back into the crowd before whoever “The Association” was realized I didn’t deserve their compliments.

I found a spot to lean against the wall and sat back to soak up the atmosphere. There was a lot of yelling/singing (a style I know a thing or two about) and dancing going on to my right. I was standing in more of the chatting suburbs but there was no gap in the crowd between the two areas.


Still thinking about my free beer and taking in my surroundings I quickly got the feeling this was more of a party rather than just a bar. I made some eye contact with a couple girls standing in a cluster of a few guys and other girls and leaned in to make a comment. One of the girls leaned an ear my way and I said, “Is this some kind of party?”
“What do mean?”
“Everyone seems to know each other.”
“No, we don’t. Aren’t you a dental student?”
“No. Why?”
“We are. Aren’t you with the European Dental Student Association?”

Instantly I flashed back to my arrival in the pub. The downstairs was dead. The door I found had a chalkboard on the outside that said “Edsa” with an arrow pointing up. I just thought Edsa was a Dutch word I didn’t know. If I let signs I couldn’t read stop me I would never get anywhere.

When I cruised by the doorman in a rush to find a pisser I probably looked like any other dental student that knew where they were going. Another great example of if you act like you belong there people generally won’t hassle you.

I had crashed a party of European Dental Students in Amsterdam with an open bar! Score!
My new EDSA friend didn’t care that I had crashed the party and she introduced me to her friends. It was loud so just a name and hand shake were exchanged. I headed to the bar for another round and now with confidence in my surrounding ordered 5 beers. Up came 5 white ales and I took the round back to my new friends after giving only a “thanks” to the bartender.
The more I hung out with my new dental friends the more I talked with each one. As word spread through our small group that I was not a dental student they all loved it! The fact that I was just an American Backpacker that wandered upstairs was a big hit. I received many pats on the back and several rounds of “Prosit!” (cheers) in my honor.

My friends were actually students from Amsterdam and when they asked me what I thought of the Red Light district I told them I still didn’t really know. “This is the first bar I’ve been to outside of my hostel.”
“The first bar in Amsterdam you walked into had free beer?! You are one lucky man!”
“Ya, I’ve heard that before.” There was no sense trying to explain my thoughts on karma to him in this setting.

As the free rounds of beers kept coming the night rolled into high gear. They taught me to sing along to popular Dutch bar songs like “Gedeng Gedeng” and we all sang arm and arm to standard bar classics like Living on a Prayer, again, not much different from my freshman bar days.

The EDSA party wrapped up at about 1 a. m. My new group of friends, whose names were all gone by the time I started writing this entry days later, had thined down some by the end. Left were 2 guys, 2 girls, and me. I asked one of the guys if we were going to head into the District for another bar. He said they were all going to a student bar they hang out at every Thursday that’s not far from here. “You should come along!” one of the guys said. A chance to hang out in a college bar with local students sounded like a lot more fun than wandering the Red Light District alone so it was a pretty easy decision.

The “not far from here” bar was actually about a 20 minute walk from where we were and as we turned down one street after another I made a mental note to save enough money for a cab ride home because I had no idea where I was.


We arrived at “Café GiGi” and I followed the guys in to find their other friends. We had lost the girls on the walk as they dragged behind talking to some Swedes. They arrived about 10 minutes after us with a few of the Swedes and joined us. I kind of chuckled as they introduced me to the Swedes like I was just one of the gang.
“So you are an American. Are you going to dental school in Amsterdam?” they asked.
“Nope, Just a random backpacker that met these people about 3 hours ago.”

The Swedes spoke perfect English but I could see the confusion on their faces as they tried to make sure they understood everything I had said.


Me and one of my dental buddies started to squeeze are way to the bar. It was crowded but my friends knew the bartender and we got the “What do you need?” look while we were still a row away from the bar. I held up 5 fingers figuring that would at least cover the corp group. The Swedes could fend for themselves. As the bartender was pouring our order we finally made it to the bar front row just when the manger turned down the music and jumped up on a case of beer bottles. He shouted for everyone’s attention and slowly a wave of “Hey shut up!" moved its way across the small crowded bar until most people were paying attention.

He said, “I would like to thank all of you dental students for making it a great semester! You have made Thursday night amazing!” Each sentence was followed by cheers like it was a State of the Union address only far more sincere….from both parties. He continued, “And to show my appreciation….FREE BEER FOR EVERYONE!!” There was much rejoicing.

I have been in a lot of small crowded bars in my day and no one has ever announced free beer to the masses. I am very proud to say that when it did happen I was standing in the best possible spot! The bartender showed up with my previous 5 and said “Anything else?”
I replied, “Ya, 5 more!”
“I thought that was what you were going to say.”

My first full night out in Amsterdam lasted until about 3:30 a.m. and I spent a total of 10 Euros. I didn’t even have to catch a cab. When I left the bar the first corner I went to for a cab had a tourist map sign. Turns out I was only 3 blocks from my hostel. I smiled the short walk home. I think I used up a lot of good karma that night. I better start finding more ways to make up for it!

Floor arrived the next morning and by 11a.m we were at the Van Gogh Museum. My day of Dutch culture, both old and new, had begun.

After Van Gogh we were heading to the Anne Frank House (which is kind of hard to find! HA!) but we got sidetracked into a Madame Tussaude wax museum instead. I was skeptical at first. They are legendary for being very touristy. However with Floor it was a blast. We posed for pic’s with a few of the figures and made fun of the rest.

We never made it to the Anne Frank House or even Rembrandt's House, like I had originally planned but I really don’t care. I can do those things with any tour book. With my personal Dutch guide I dove into more random cultural things, most specifically food. We had a few pints and then I tried a krokett from a mobile cart. Floor explained that it is basically a baked or deep friend meat roll with some sort of breading around it. The insides were gooey though and when I asked Floor what kind of meat it was she said “We don’t like to think about that and I suggest you do the same.”

Ahhh, one of those delicacies, we have plenty of those in the States. I should have known when she described them as one of her Dads favorite things to eat….especially after a few beers.


A few pints later it was time for my second Fear Factor trial; pickled herring. Floor bought me the Dutch treat from one of a dozen street stands that offered them. It was pure raw herring, de-boned, pickled somehow, sprinkled with chunks of raw onions, and, the best part to my taste buds, was garnished with a dill pickle slice. You hold it by the tail and chew it down like a seal that just honked the right horn. Yum!


Yep, it tastes about as good as it sounds. Not horrible mind you but one was enough for this lifetime. Before I tried it Floor said it was like sushi. Mental note I need to take Floor out for some good sushi sometime because I don’t think she is getting the same kind of sushi that I am.

My traditional Netherlands dinner made up for my snacks though. Floor got directions to a traditional Dutch place and walked me through the menu options. I had a dish that I think is called a stoofpot with sausage and sauerkraut, and a couple Heinekens of course. It was delicious! Floor even called the waitress over to see if she could get the manger to play “Gedeng Gedeng” for me. There were a few chuckles at the odd request but a couple minutes later on came my new favorite Dutch song.

Floor and I enjoyed more laughs through dinner and afterwards, right up until she caught the train back to Antwerp at about 10 p.m. I hopped the tram back to my place and after only a couple days in the City felt less like a tourist and more like a local. I liked Amsterdam on day one but thanks to my dental student friends and Floor I now love Amsterdam!

MJF