I stayed in Amsterdam over four months ago now, so it took me quite awhile to get around to writing this, even by my very relaxed backblogging habits.
The widely-recognised symbol for Amsterdam is the three crosses XXX, which despite a natural inference by most people doesn’t refer to the city’s sex industry, but to the three big dangers which have always made the people of Amsterdam shake in their clogs. They are Flood, Fire, and Venereal Disease. Officially the last one is Pestilence but we all know that this is just window dressing.
The Dutch are a strange people who appear to be waging a never-ending battle against the sea. Reclaiming land is a very slow process; first you have to pump out all the water and then leave the land to dry for umpteen years before building on it, only to have the bastard probably flood again if you stuffed up somewhere, or if God just felt like it. I’m positive this determination in the face of such futility is part of what gives the Dutch their unique sense of humour and their famously liberal culture.
The drive through the Dutch countryside took us along vast levees with seemingly countless windmills toiling away, pumping all that sea farther out to sea. Indeed the highway is noticeably below sea level. Windmills are all of the modern electric ‘aeroplane propeller’ variety these days. If you strain your eyes you can spot maybe one of the old-school mechanical windmills left standing as a historical item.
Amsterdam’s nightlife district is, I have to say, Man Kingdom. Not so much because of the ladies under the red lights—although there is that—but mainly due to the omnipresence of the open-air urinals. That’s right men, you can pee standing up in public. There’s a ninety degree angle partition that gives you just enough privacy if you lean into it. It’s a much more liberal city you might say, with the legal marijuana in coffee shops, served in dozens of varieties, au naturel as well as in all manner of biscuits and gâteaux. Seeing it be sold with such impunity and to not have murder and mayhem result makes you wonder what all the fuss is about back home, assuming you weren’t wondering already.
The nightlife was exciting with an impressive array of venues, and on this Saturday night literally every one of them was packed to the gills with people. Most of us wound up at Paradiso, the historic multi-level music venue where the highlight of my evening was slipping and falling flat on my arse whilst managing not to spill my glass of Heineken.
The stay in Amsterdam also featured the obligatory trip to the cheese and clogs place (pictured), a rather delightful cruise through the canals, and a cabbie who managed to fleece us good despite having a GPS unit that gives you explicit directions to the desired place.
Amsterdam is so far my favourite city in Europe, even beating Paris of which admittedly I didn’t see as much as I would have liked. From here it would be a non-stop drive through Belgium, back to the port at Calais and a trip back across the channel that seemed far too soon after we had come the other way.