I’m sitting here in the airport, waiting to board a flight delayed by a workers’ strike in France, trying to think of a way to summarize the last week spent in Amsterdam, along with trips to Delft and Rotterdam. Rather than do a blow for blow description of each day’s activities, it’s perhaps more compelling to share a general overview of impressions, not only of the city itself, but also of the differences I’ve noticed between the American way of life and that of the Dutch.
After settling in with my awesome cousin in Amstelveen, it was time to visit Amsterdam for the first time. Again, the public transportation system is very convenient for this. (My only complaint is that you cannot recharge your transportation cards at every location and their online system is also seemingly impractical.) As with the other places, you will still get a more rounded impression of a place by walking around as much as possible once there.
Amsterdam is actually a small city, certainly less than NYC and Los Angeles, and it feels OLD. Row after row of houses date back from the 1600s or earlier, and many lean in one direction or another, tired from centuries of service—even more visibly than the buildings in Leiden and Haarlem.
Cobblestones, ancient and more modern, pave the streets and the smell of pot is everywhere. Folks feel free to smoke walking outside as well as in the famed cafés. Basically, it’s not too hard to get a contact high just wandering around. 😉
There are so many bicycles here too, so crossing a street involves not only keeping an eye out for other pedestrians, cars, trams, and scooters, but also bicycles. There are special lanes just for two-wheeled transportation.
Many attractions feel more like tourist traps than real cultural staples, but the charm of Amsterdam is still present and closely protected. One of my sisters explained that any update or repair done to the historic buildings must first be approved by a committee. Simple changes can take years to be rubber-stamped. (Understandable…and yet probably somewhat irritating for residents occasionally.)
I chose to start exploring at the Museumplein, where you can visit the Rijksmuseum, Van Gogh museum, Concertgebouw, and the Stedelijk Museum, as well as several others all in one area. From there, it’s also very easy to walk, ride a bike, or catch a bus or tram to the rest of the city areas. There are independent booths that you can use to purchase entry to different attractions; the companies also provide discounts if you buy tickets to multiple venues/activities, which I took advantage of to get a canal ride and see the Rijksmuseum. The Spanish ticket vender asked where I come from and I said America. He seemed disappointed for some reason, so I followed up with, “But I was born in Holland.”
“Ah hah! I knew you were a Barbie!” he exclaimed.
“What’s Barbie slang for?”
“It’s what my Spanish friends and I call Dutch women. You’re all tall, blond, and unattainable.”
There you go, one Barbie at your service.
Rijksmuseum: It’s certainly worth a visit. This place is full of old relics—REALLY old relics—from the second century onwards. In comparison to the Met Museum in NYC, the collection has a lot less variety in terms of region, but excellent breadth in terms of time period. Wandering through the wings of the Rijks, it struck me how all of these preserved items have outlasted their makers, their users, and will even outlast all of the viewers. An impressive feat of immortality.
My favorite display was of robotic chandeliers that remind me of jellyfish. (Mom and Dad: click on the chandeliers and a short video will play.)
I also enjoyed paintings with humor or unusual meaning.
All told, it took a few hours to see everything the museum had to offer, but if you love to inspect artwork in great detail, plan for more time.
Vondelpark: This is a nice place to visit when you’re missing more natural areas during your stay in Amsterdam. Or better yet, drive to the nearby countryside and walk in the dunes near Groet.
Canal rides: Totally an awesome angle from which to view Amsterdam, so embrace this touristy activity. It’s a nice way to familiarize yourself with the layout of the city, and moves at a slower pace than all other forms of transportation available here. It’s also a taste of what it might have been like to navigate the canals hundreds of years ago. The captain of my boat looked to be maybe sixteen years old and it also seemed like his maiden voyage, since an older woman supervised his steering. Good thing too, we definitely hit the side of the canal during a few turns. But we didn’t take any water on, so passengers took the bumps as part of the experience.
The Sex Museum: Just don’t bother. It’s not educational, it’s not interesting, and it’s not even titillating. And I’m certainly not the only one that felt that way. Several other tourists made similar comments around me. Kitschy mannequins dressed in sexual gear motion activate as you pass, flashing body parts. Most of the exhibitions feature these. Plastic butts nailed to the wall fart as you descend or climb the stairs. It felt like a crappy imitation of a carnival theme ride without any entertainment value whatsoever. NYC Sex Museum wins by a margin of a tsunami.
Red Light District: I visited the Red Light District at night, which is the best time to go if you’re looking to experience the tourists and prostitutes in equal measure. (Full disclosure: I have no problem with prostitution, so long as both the seller and the buyer are there completely willingly and not under any kind of duress.) The area is not very large and the windows where the women wait are beautifully lit with neon lights. The prostitutes are young and absolutely gorgeous—the johns/janes…not always so much. Tottering on their high heels, dressed in fantasy outfits and well chosen lingerie, the prostitutes lightly twist back and forth, and shift side to side for observers, showing off their bodies. It must be so boring waiting for the next client.
In all honesty, looking in the windows, I unexpectedly felt insecure. The outfits, the lighting, the make up, the hair, the plastic surgery, all of it built an alluring picture. There is always going to be someone more attractive and always someone less attractive, variable depending on cultural definitions of beauty, but at times it’s hard not to compare. This was one of them.
Letting go of these thoughts as quickly as possible, I headed down one of the busy alley ways. It got more and more crowded the further in I continued until people were very near one another at a narrow section. Suddenly, there were just a few women walking, myself included, and the rest were men. The pleasure windows were on either side and these guys started heckling the prostitutes loudly. Some of the working ladies smiled teasingly at their comments and others backed away from the glass, perhaps disgusted. I couldn’t understand enough of what the men said to know whether it was good natured or not (too much unfamiliar Dutch slang), but it certainly got very intense and uncomfortable for the women not protected to some degree by a window, myself included. “Give me a discount!” more than one dude yelled. Besides being concerned for my own safety at this point, I was shocked. In a land that has legalized prostitution, I naively expected residents/visitors to respect the sex workers as human beings, and treat them like they would any other product vendor. How often do you hear someone buying bread in the grocery store holler, “Give me a discount on this loaf! I’m really good at chewing!”? Fortunately, the crowd moved forward, finally entering another main lane, and I made my escape.
