Amsterdam (Part III): I Need a Built-In GPS

After a heavy first morning in Amsterdam, I decided it was time for a lark. With that in mind, I started walking toward Amsterdam’s infamous ‘Red Light District,’ by way of Nieuwe Spiegetstraat. Of course, I became hopelessly lost en route (not that I minded), and I think the 2km (+/-) walk turned into a much greater distance.

Eventually, I found myself standing in Dam Square, which serves as the city center for all intents and purposes. On the western end of the square stands the Royal Palace, flanked by the Nieuwe Kerk (‘New Church,’ a name given despite its erect in the 15th Century) and another infernal Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum (*shudder*). Across from the palace is the National Monument, which memorializes the victims of the Second World War.

In Dam Square, with the Royal Palace behind me.

The Royal Palace (left) and Nieuwe Kerk (right)

After spending a few minutes in Dam Square (and realizing that I couldn’t get in to tour the Royal Palace), I confess to wasting some time walking around Magna Plaza, which stands just behind the palace. Basically a shopping mall, I didn’t bother to go into most of the shops—but the building itself was so gorgeous that I couldn’t help ducking in for a bit.

Best mall facade ever!

From there, I continued up Damrak, where my eye was caught by one of those tourist traps offering canal cruises. I had decided ahead of time, at the advice of my Stateside friend AR, to take one of these cruises, but I hadn’t actually arranged one yet. Thinking now was as good a time as any, I ducked in and did just that. (Ironically, the boat I was eventually to take was called the Anne Frank.)

While awaiting departure near Amsterdam Centraal, I stopped off for lunch. With money limited (and since I wasn’t desperately hungry yet), I indulged in another yummy sleeve of Vlaamse Frites. My goodness, I love these things!

LUNCH!

Eventually, it was time to depart. Though our captain-guide was very nice, and the sights lovely, I confess to finding myself a bit bored. The pre-recorded narration was not as informative as I would have liked, and the sun passing through the glass-covering created a greenhouse effect that, when combined with the gentle rocking of the boat, practically lulled me to sleep. 

Nonetheless, I’m glad that I did it, as I did learn some new interesting facts (e.g., the purpose and intent behind the different gables, and how they’re still used today as a means of moving furniture)!

A little over an hour later, our boat docked near the Amsterdam public library. Now, I know this will sound strange to some, but I did go walk around the library for a bit. I had been advised that you could climb to the top for free, and that it offered an amazing view of the city, so I wanted to do that (and I did). 

Upon entering, however, I also discovered that it was one of the most stunning libraries I’ve ever been in! To be sure, nothing has yet topped the beauty of Dublin’s Trinity College’s library. But, whereas Trinity’s collection and styling is clearly traditional and rooted in history, Amsterdam’s is incredibly modern and sleek—it’s like Ikea came in and built all eight floors for them! In fact, it was so striking that I went back the next day, too.

The Ikea Library: 'Do you feel bad for these books? It is because you are crazy.'

By now, it was getting late and I figured I should start walking back toward the hostel. (Though I may have made one brief stopover in a coffeeshop on Warmoesstraat.) 

More than once, I got completely lost while trying to find my way back—much as in Paris, I found that I would be walking in one direction, thinking I was headed south (for instance), only to discover that I was headed northwest (or some other completely wrong way). It also didn’t help that none of the maps I had access to included the smaller streets, which just added to the confusion.

Eventually, I found myself back at the hostel. It was around 5 or 6 PM, my feet were killing me, and I knew I had another full day of walking the next. So, I gave in to temptation and took a short nap (with my poor dogs elevated)…except, that short nap turned into a two-hour nap, and the only reason I woke up then was because someone else came into the room.

Regardless, I felt slightly refreshed, and so I got up and headed back out. Still not completely starved (but knowing that I would be famished later if I didn’t stop), I bought another serving of Vlaamse Frites—and I wonder why I’m fat?—which I ate while walking around my immediate neighborhood some more. 

At one point, I stumbled upon Reguliersdwarsstraat, which was festooned with numerous rainbow flags. Realizing that this was probably one of Amsterdam’s gay enclaves, I decided to walk down the street. I was hoping for some gay-centric shopping (e.g., bookstores and the like), but this particular street was basically just a bunch of bars. 

I did stop by one—a tiny, dead place (it was a Monday night) called Taboo—for two drinks. The first, my typical Vodka and cranberry. The second, a Heineken, which Nic insisted I try while in Amsterdam because, supposedly, it tastes different. (In case you’re wondering, it still tasted like watered-down piss to me—if I have to drink beer, I’ll stick with Guinness, thank you very much!)

And with that (it was around 10 PM by now), I headed back to my hostel and caught some much-needed sleep in preparation for the next day…which I’ll discuss later. :)

Until next time…

Amsterdam Part I: Getting There is Half the Journey (Literally)!

Let’s talk about Amsterdam a bit, shall we? Or rather, the trip to get there.

You see, my holiday as a whole was four days long, but two of those days were spent purely in transit between London and Amsterdam. This is because I decided to use MegaBus to facilitate my journey.

Now, I know what you’re thinking:  

Brett, you hate the bus! You would rather walk a mile (or more) than take the bus somewhere local. Why on Earth would you subject yourself to a 13 hour bus ride?

Me on the bus, on the return journey.

In short, the answer is because it’s cheap (round-trip tickets were only £20). But even that low, low pricetag wasn’t the sole reason why I went this route: I also wanted to get a sense of some other European locales, even if it was from the highway. After all, it’s taken me 30 years to make it to Europe—who knows when I’ll be back?

So, on the morning of Sunday, 13 May, I set off for Victoria Coach Station at o’Dark early. (Seriously, I left the house at like 5:30 AM!) We got a bit of a late start, and didn’t actually leave until about 9:15 AM, but the bus wasn’t crowded—I had an entire row to myself—and everyone was half-asleep, so no one seemed to care too much.

After crossing out of the London city limits, I started reading my book (Game of Thrones) since I was already familiar with the sights between there and the Channel Tunnel. Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked up and realized that we were actually headed for the ferry rather than the Chunnel! Suddenly my excitement doubled, and I hurriedly stashed my book and started soaking up the 'new' surrounding coastline.

With Dover Castle looming above us, itself atop the towering White Cliffs, we passed through the Port Authority and boarded the giant ship that would take us across the English Channel.   

Dover Castle as seen from the ferry

I made my way onto the deck, and watched as we left England behind, with seagulls gliding along in our wake. The ferry crossing itself was quite nice. I spent the entire time just traveling back and forth along the ship, staring at the shrinking English coast one minute and the growing French coast the next. I confess to being surprised by how close they actually are—I expected it to be kind of like Lake Michigan (where there’s just enough distance between Illinois and Michigan that you can’t quite see the opposite coast), but for most of the trip I could make out both bodies just fine!

The White Cliffs of Dover

Calais and the French coast

 The ferry docked in Calais, France, which—much as when I went to Paris—I found myself wanting to explore further. It seems like a charming seaside town, dotted with dozens of gorgeous steeples. Sadly, the bus wasn’t scheduled to stop in Calais, so I didn’t have the chance. 

We continued onward courtesy of the A16, cutting across northern France by way of Dunkerque. (Notwithstanding Dunkerque's significant place in the WWII context, I was again reminded of my earlier trip to France, when I was generally unimpressed by the passing scenery between Calais and Paris.)

Eventually we crossed into Belgium, which was a great thrill for me as it was another country I could cross off my list as having seen! Now, there are some who might argue this point—for instance, Nic doesn’t think it counts unless you stop to eat or sleep. I see the logic in this argument, but for my own selfish purposes I’m going to ignore said-logic and say that I’ve been there. It’s also worth noting that we didn’t stop at any kind of border patrol point. This made me kind of sad because I was looking forward to having a Belgian stamp in my passport, but I guess it just doesn’t make sense to have checkpoints across all of the roads that cross European borders.

Upon crossing into Belgium, we started heading east. Though not listed on the manifest, we stopped briefly in Gent so that the bus driver could trade with another. We were given about 10 minutes to get off the coach and stretch our legs—so now I can say that I have not only driven through, but also set foot on Belgian soil—but since we were in a hotel parking lot there wasn’t much to see or do.

My only photo of Gent--just something to remember that I was there, however briefly, LOL!

Eventually we loaded back on, and continued onward. About an hour or so later, we arrived in Bruxelles. Excepting the traffic, which was atrocious, I thought the capital of Belgium (and the de facto capital of the EU) looked to be a beautiful old city. We passed the gorgeous Nationale Basiliek van het Helig-Hart (Basilica of the Sacred Heart), and I even caught a glimpse of the Atomium sculpture before stopping at Bruxelles’ main bus hub for those passengers switching there. 

As in Gent we were given the opportunity to get off the coach and stretch our legs, but this time we had a full 30 minutes and there was much more to see. (Mostly, however, I just walked around the terminal and surrounding area, as I was terrified of missing the bus.)

Out and about in Belgium...sort of.

All too soon we were on our way again, cutting through Antwerpen before crossing into The Netherlands proper. Much like the non-city parts of Belgium, The Netherlandian regions known as Brabant and South Holland seemed to be mostly farmlands, though gorgeous nonetheless. 

Sadly, I didn’t see a single tulip along the way, and I only saw a handful of windmills (though the latter grew more frequent as we neared North Holland).

We finally arrived at our final destination—Zeeburg P&R Coach Park at Zuiderzeeweg—at about 9:50 PM local time, from whence I hopped on one of the trams and headed to Amsterdam Centraal Station, and then on another that would take me to my hostel in-time for my 11 PM check-in.

Amsterdam Centraal Station (taken 15 May 2012)

My hostel (taken on 15 May 2012)

I actually missed my stop on the second tram because I didn’t realize you had to both press a buzzer to let the driver know you want off (as on a bus) and then a second buzzer to actually open the tram doors (like on the DLR). 

Fortunately, it was only a short walk back to the Prinsengracht stop from where I was, and I still made it to check-in in time—and, somehow, even at that late hour it only seemed like dusk! There was plenty of natural light to see by as I found my way back to Prinsengracht and then on to a street called Leidsegracht, where my hostel was located overlooking a canal.

After checking-in, I realized how hungry I was. And, since the sun still hadn’t completely disappeared—again, it was about 11 PM at this point—I made my way out to find food. I quickly found a place serving vlaamse frites (i.e., fries/chips drowning in mayo) and made a fast, cheap meal out of that!

Having found a quick meal and drink, I returned to the hostel and hit the hay in preparation for the next day’s adventures—but more on that later!

[NB: Unless I remember something significant that I forgot here, I probably won't post anything about the return-trip, as it's pretty much the same here but in reverse. The only exception is that on the way home I packed a chocolate-covered waffle (bought in Amsterdam the day before), which I wanted to eat until I was in Belgium—get it?]