Random Reflections on Amsterdam: April 2007

I'm flipping through my notebook, bored out of my mind in Garden Grove, CA and this is what I found from my recent time in Amsterdam:

4.24.07

This morning, the man at the porter's desk at the hotel asked me if I wanted a Playboy or a Hustler when I presented my newspaper voucher. I must have been a bit groggy having just woken up even though it was just after 10 AM, because I couldn't think of a response to pornography humor. Then again, I always find discussing pornography with strangers to be uncomfortable.

I sat in Amsterdam's Vondelpark, on a bench near the water, enjoying the shade and the birdsong. I should just make a list of everything I have seen today. I saw several high school kids around the train station. I saw two that appeared to be twins, girls wearing identical flowing red tops. They wore matching white hijabs.

I saw a pet store. The call them BEESTEBOLs here and in its window was a pretty, young, brown tabby cat.

I found my way to the Museumplein and stopped at the Albert Heijn supermarket where I bought water, an orange drink, an apple and a box of matches because I liked the swallow design on the box. Thus provisioned, I wandered onto the Vondelpark where I saw saw plenty of dogs; dachsunds and hounds and min-pins and rotties. The Dutch seem to love their dogs as much as their bicycles.

5.2.07 (after I returned home)

I'm now remembering early Saturday evening when outside many of the cafes I passed, I saw their staffs enjoying a meal together. This seemed to mean that the cafes were closed, so I went on up to a bar on the corner, a block from the cafe where I wanted to dine later.

I ordered a large Amstel and enjoyed it while reading the New Yorker. I had not been sitting there terribly long when I finished the Amstel and thought i should try another beer. I noticed that the bartender, a very tall, very pale Dutch kid with a bush of almost white hair, was pouring a lot of Wiekse, a light beer, and almost no Amstel. I asked him for a glass, noting that it seemed popular.

"Just because it's popular doesn't mean it's good," the bartender said. I asked him if any of his other beers were good. He said that the Le Chouffle was good, but that I would not be allowed to have a large glass. I presumed that this was due to a high alcohol content, but I thought it was funny that in a city where I could buy mushrooms for hallucinating and any number of cannabis products, I couldn't have a large glass of strong beer. The beer was light and fruity but with enough body to make one feel that one was drinking a beer rather than champagne.

I worked on a sudoku puzzle while I drank it, but it did not take long and soon I had settled up and moved on to the La Brace restaurant where I enjoyed a wonderful meal (except for the salad that was dressed with what I could only describe as exactly like my mother's potato salad dressing.

My last night in Amsterdam, I decided to try to a meal at the Cafe on the Corner, a place that I remember quite well from my first trip to Amsterdam back in September. It was always packed each time I walked by, so I never tried it. This trip was no exception so when on Sunday evening I passed it, finding it (the outdoor seating area) empty, but for three guys drinking beer, I took a seat and ordered a glass of beer, a large glass of beer.

A note on sitting outside in Amsterdam cafes: I was really intimidated by this at first. I didn't do it at all during my 2006 trip. It seemed like only the coolest local people were sitting outside. This year I started out by asking if I could sit outside. When the servers looked at me like I was from Mars (or the U.S.) and said "Of course," I decided to just walk up and sit down. Everywhere that I did this, eventually a cafe employee would come up and take my order. So my advice: when you're in Amsterdam and you want to sit outside, just sit the hell down. It's okay.

So this server at the Cafe on the Corner says "Do you want the big one? The REALLY big one?" I asked her to bring me the really big one and looked at the menu behind my head. When the server returned, I ordered the half roasted chicken. Later, it was brought to me with a large pile of french fries, which, to my horror, lay beneath a large dollop of mayonaise. I thought I might vomit. So yeah, I don't understand the Dutch and their need for frietsausse.

Thanks for playing.