“Welcome to Amsterdam. When you see a coffee shop here, know there’s more than coffee on the menu.” This post is based on wanders from many, many moons ago.
We’re buzzing with excitement and anticipation when we arrive in Amsterdam. By “we”, I mean my friend PJ – who avid readers may remember from the Thailand tales – and I.
Amsterdam is our next stop after a few days in Brussels. Seated behind us on the train is a noisy group of English guys in identical suits and pinstripe ties. They are talking so loudly we’d have had to have steel girdles through our ears to not hear everything. We gather from their animated conversation that they are on their way to a stag weekend in Rotterdam.
Arrival into Amsterdam Central Station
As the train pulls into Amsterdam Central station, I look through the window and stare wide-eyed at the number of bicycles chained to racks outside the station. There are rows and rows of them, and, quite simply, I have never seen so many bicycles at once. I may have skipped out on this quintessential Amsterdam ride on this trip, but I’m no stranger to two-wheeled discoveries, as you will see from my wanders in Croatia and Norway.
An evening surprise
Amsterdam’s first surprise for us is that evening. We take a leisurely walk from our hotel to Leidseplein, an entertainment area with trendy restaurants, bars and nightclubs, stopping along the way to admire the majestic architecture of the Rijksmuseum.
It has been raining on and off the whole day. Shivering, we decide to get hot drinks to warm our insides. We see a coffee shop nearby. Neither the unusual darkness of the interior, nor the presence of a bouncer/security guard at the entrance prepares us for the pungent smell of weed that fills our nostrils as soon as we enter. We scarper back to the entrance, and to the bouncer who smirks at us. He is clearly enjoying our slight confusion.
The moment of truth…
“Um…excuse me, please. We just wanted to get coffee.” There’s a question in my voice. He points to the name above him. “Well, what does this say?”
“Coffee shop,” we chorus obediently.
But…what about the obvious smell that wafted over us, and the people rolling joints?
He bursts into laughter. “Welcome to Amsterdam, girls. When you see a coffee shop here, know there’s more than coffee on the menu,” he winks.
“So…this isn’t exactly a Starbucks kind of place?”
We’re still in a dumbfounded state, and the reference to Starbucks tickles him some. Granted, a cursory look through any pre-trip guide could have saved us this moment – but here we were. You could say a travel story wrote itself in the instant.
He turns out to be quite the chatty bouncer, enjoying our general curiosity about what he calls Amsterdam’s reputation for hash and hedonism. In this city, a coffee shop is where one procures pot. He has an amusing way of stating facts, and then shrugging them off with a jolly, “But who cares, right?!” We leave him shortly after that.
PJ says casually, “I think I’m already high.”
I give her a look. “I meant that I’m high on life,” she adds hastily and I burst into laughter.
Another encounter
As we pass one restaurant after the other on the packed street, young men beckon to us to come in and eat. We see an attractive, smiley man in front of a Mexican restaurant. He looks about our age, so we stop and ask him for a good place to go dancing. We are in the mood to shake our shimmy in Amsterdam. He reels off a list of venues “where the magic happens.”
He gives off the vibe of someone who knows the night scene in the city well. Later on we learn that he is, in fact, a photographer who specialises in capturing images of night time entertainment in Amsterdam. Presently, he tells us to come back at 11pm.
“11pm? Won’t your restaurant be closed?” I ask, puzzled.
He smiles slowly, lazily. “Yea, well, I’m not talking about food…” he trails off suggestively. Jeez, Amsterdam.
More wanders in Amsterdam
Over the course of our visit, we walk everywhere. To Dam, the heart of the city. The Red Light District with its abundance of sex shops and sex workers. Along the Prinsengracht to the Anne Frank House, closed because of the Jewish holiday, Yom Kippur. A line pops into my head from The Diary of Anne Frank.
Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me. Not only because I’ve never written before, but because it seems to me that later on, neither I or anyone else will be interested in the musings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl.
The Diary of Anne Frank
How wrong she was, I think to myself in the moment. I have never read a more moving account of the Occupation during the war. That it is the voice of a young girl makes it all the more heart-wrenching.
Amsterdam is without doubt one of the most picturesque cities I’ve been to, drawing me in with its character, history, network of canals and architectural delights. I find it beautiful. “More beautiful than Paris?” PJ teases. We both know I’m sentimental about Paris after my stint there. “Well, it is certainly up there with Paris,” I say with mock hesitation.
The Princess and the “Pee”
There is no shortage of entertainment for us, however fleeting. We laugh over cheesy lines thrown at us. Once, a Dutchman asks for a dance in the club. “I can’t dance,” I deadpan. “It’s not a problem,” he says breezily, “I’m not a good dancer myself – I just want to bounce against you.” Er…come again? Another gallantly tells PJ not to worry about the charge to use the bathroom, as he will pay all her “peeing money” for her. Now that just puts the “pee” in Prince Charming.
Amsterdam. So dam unforgettable!
Have you been to Amsterdam? Share your travel stories from there with us in the comments. Until the next WoW. Feature image credit: Unsplash.
Its great that I stumbled across this post sis. I’m trying to put my mini Europe trip for my birthday together in December amd Amsterdam was at the top of my list. I could just imagine what I will find on my solo travels if I was there for my birthday lol.
You definitely had a great time sis.
Jenna
Xoxo
It ticks a lot of boxes for solos, so you won’t be lost for things to do. Hope you have a great time sis!
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