by Esack
My plans for a feast and a triumphant return to Berlin were
almost cut short just days later, when I was nearly killed by a bicycle in
Amsterdam. And again in Leiden (30 minute train ride from Amsterdam), and then
again and again in Amsterdam. Bicycles rule the streets of the Netherlands. Anthony
Bourdain says, even cars fear them, and he’s right. This was one thing I loved
about Amsterdam, and Leiden. The bike lanes are neither on the street, nor on
the sidewalk. They are their own thing. The street design of Amsterdam in
particular looks like something out of a video game like Mario Kart or Frogger.
Gameplay would be most similar to Frogger, though. If the bikes don’t get you,
a passing trolley probably will, or at the very least a car, lest you forget
that some DO drive there. Julia correctly described it as “an obstacle course
for stoners.” [Note from J: I also consider the layout of the city as Dutch
revenge for hosting so many annoying tourists. Ha!] And there were stoners
aplenty, of course. If you spot a stoned person in Amsterdam, you are also
spotting a tourist. Despite the relaxed attitude in the Netherlands toward
marijuana (though it is NOT legal, important distinction), the rate of use for
citizens of Holland is vastly lower than that of the citizens of The United
States. I will resist the urge to make any statement regarding current US drug
policy or the money we spend on said policy.
The marijuana, stoners and coffee shops aren’t what I will
remember about Amsterdam. I will remember how ridiculously touristy it is. Now,
as tourist, I realize that I’m not really qualified to complain about something
being touristy. So, I will anyway. It’s too much. The city center area, at
least. Our host in Leiden, Berry, told me that the concentric circle layout of
the Amsterdam city center is designed to keep people walking in… circles. Let
me tell you, it’s effective. Just minutes after leaving the train station we
wandered straight into the Red Light District. You literally cannot help but
discover the most stereotypically-tourist things in this city. Hence, they will
always be the touristy things. We wandered past H&M clothing store probably
20 times unintentionally. H&M, by the way, is the business we have seen the
most, after McDonalds, in all our travels. Maybe equal to McDonalds, in fact.
I’ve never shopped there. H&M that is, I’ve shopped at McDonalds. On this
trip, in fact. Out of sick curiosity Julia and I went the Big Mac route in a
couple of different countries. I was pleasantly surprised that there are, in
fact, differences in both the menu and the quality. Australia had my favorite
Big Mac, if anyone is as sickly curious as I was.
We did NOT go to McDonalds in the Netherlands, however. We didn’t have to, they had FEBO! I’m
not putting FEBO in all caps out of excitement. I’m not sure if it’s an acronym,
or they just liked the block letters for the logo. Either way, it’s a
delightfully bizarre eating experience. The food is prepared by cooks, I guess.
You can sort of see them through the little windows in the wall where they put
the food. By “windows” I actually mean little see-through doors. Sort of like
the wall is lined with microwaves, and you put a few coins into the microwave
that looks like it contains the tastiest something-or-other, open the door and
there you have it! It’s crazy cheap, and something you have to try in
Amsterdam. I tried something that was like a deep-fried
peanut-satay-mashed-potato croquette. It was weird, but somehow delicious. The
eating habits of the Dutch can tend to be strange. Something I fell in love
with was the herring sandwiches. Usually you think of herring as something
pickled and in a jar, that you’ve probably only seen your grandpa eat. My love
affair with herring started in Russia, made it through Finland, and culminated
in Amsterdam. I tried pickled, salt-cured, and fresh. Poor Julia. The fresh
herring sandwich in Amsterdam, served on a hot-dog bun with raw onions and
pickles, was the best.
Everything I wanted Amsterdam to be, Leiden was. It had the
canals, the beautiful and old architecture, and the bicycle madness. All
without the touristy brand name shopping, crowds of people, and the
you-WILL-stay-here-forever street designs. We were hosted, as I mentioned, by
an amazing young man named Barry. He was a squatter, meaning he occupied a
property with a bunch of other people. Squatters don’t own the property, but
whoever does either can’t or won’t do anything about the people living there.
If I had an extra property I wouldn’t mind having squatters, provided they were
the kind of people Barry and his housemates were. Artists, musicians,
wanderers, it was a modern-day bohemian paradise. I suppose the situation made
Julia and I squatters, as well. I feel good about that, if it puts me in
company with the people we met there. We found Barry through an online service
called Couch Surfing. A lot of backpackers use it, as well as older
non-backpackers. I was really surprised how many people used the service,
considering I hadn’t heard of it until the last year. You set up a profile,
sort of like Facebook, and send out requests to people living in cities you’re
going to visit. If they can host you and they want to, they can put you up,
free of charge. I don’t think we would have met someone like Berry otherwise,
and that would have been a shame. A very gentle soul, very giving, loving, and
accepting [note from Julia: he also taught how to correctly pronounce
gouda! “how-da” who knew? I had an
epic tourist moment in a cheese shop asking for the best goooda they had]. One
night in Leiden his friends threw a big party to celebrate the shutdown of his
old squatter pad. Live music, a bar, great friendly people everywhere. And it
was a party, no cover charge, cheap drinks, and a fantastic atmosphere made it
one of the best parties I’ve ever attended. Thank you Berry, I won’t soon
forget you or your unique lifestyle, if I ever forget at all.
Berry wasn’t the only person I knew in Leiden. A few years
ago my family in Iowa City took a foreign-exchange student named Nienke. She
was Dutch, and luckily we were able to meet up again in Leiden! She currently
attends the University of Leiden. It’s great to catch up with old friends.
Nienke took us to her favorite café, her favorite Dutch pancake place (tease
yourself and see the picture), and took us to her student house to meet her
friends. We wound up watching the Netherlands-Denmark football (soccer to you
yanks) match. Although the match ended in heartbreak for the Dutch, we met some
fantastic people. Not being completely privy to Dutch eating habits, Julia and
I brought a bag of apples… yeah I know, if I brought a bag of apples to a Super
Bowl party no one would have touched it, either. I should have known better. Ah
well. I was invited to play a drinking game with Nienke’s friends. I knew a
similar game from back home called a “power hour.” The idea is you take one
shot of beer every minute for an hour. This was a football version, played over
the 90 minutes of the game. It’s a LOT of beer. By the end of the first half it
was already down to myself and a Dutch girl named Marta. We both seemed fine,
and ten minutes into the second half we were both still doing great. She was
studying English, so she wound up talking to Julia quite a bit. It was because
of this that the beginning of the end was so noticeable. In the span of about
three minutes, the English started to trail off, and all of a sudden BAM! She
threw her glass on the ground and shattered it. I was glad she did, earlier in
the game I had knocked an empty beer bottle over and broken it as well. The
drinking game was over, and I was happy to call it a draw to avoid drinking a
shot-a-minute for another half hour by myself. But I could have, no problem, so
be warned, Europe, Americans CAN drink! It must have been the training I did in
Australia. The Aussies can drink, oi oi oi! Thank you again Nienke for spending
time with us and showing us a bit of Leiden, we loved it. And we avoided
getting killed by bikers the entire time!
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