Sinking Boat

Across the canal from my apartment, this sinking dinghy is tied up. It has been since I moved in. Nothing's changed about it; it stays in relatively the same location, with the same proportionate amount of it above and below the water, even that wooden chest has been there the whole time.

I'm intrigued by its presence. Who's is it? How did it end up half sunk? Why hasn't it been righted? What, for heaven's sake, is in that wooden chest?

It's a mystery!

Holidays & Traditions

Today is the day the Dutch celebrate Sinterklaas. It's a celebration of Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of children, and is a gift-giving holiday. Sinterklaas officially arrives in The Netherlands in early November, coming by boat from Madrid, with his black-faced Zwart Piet. I've been told the Zwarte Piet are black because they are covered in soot from going up and down the chimneys delivering presents, but no one's been able to tell me why exactly Sinterklaas comes in from Madrid...

Between Sinterklaas' arrival and Dec. 5, it's traditional to give chocolate letters. At our office on Friday, we were each given a chocolate letter representing our first name, but it's also common to receive an "S", for Sinterklaas.


Children leave their shoes out for Sinterklaas, with carrots or hay for his horses, and presents are delivered on the front stoop -- the bell is rung, and when the door is answered, no one's there except presents.

As for exchanging presents, among adults it's common to do a sort of Secret Santa like approach -- you buy a gift for someone, and they don't know who it is from. As part of this, there's the writing and reading of poems. Short, funny, and typically rhyming, they're read to the person for whom they're about. Again, not sure how this fits into the whole celebration, but it's a continuing practice.

In fact, I have to create a poem for a Sinterklaas party tomorrow. A coworker invited me to her place to celebrate with a small group of her girlfriends, most of whom are also expats. She assigned people their Secret Santas, and is including the poem part. Need to get cracking on that!

December 25th here, from what I've been told, is more about gathering family together for a meal, and is less focused on exchanging presents than it is in the States. Christmas trees are scarce -- and expensive. But there are tiny white lights draped between the buildings on all of the shopping streets in the area, which gives off a magical feeling after the sun goes down.

And I can't not write about oliebollen! This is a tradition I wouldn't mind having back home. Think balls of fried dough, crisp on the outside, mushy and thick on the inside, slathered with powdered sugar that melts upon contact. They're only available at this time of year, and are sold out of fair carts on the corners of the streets.

I had one a couple weekends ago and fell head over heels for it. I grabbed a bag of them on my way home from shopping this afternoon (yes, I said a bag of them!), and am looking forward to devouring them over the weekend.

Obviously, Thanksgiving isn't celebrated here, and I did have to work that day. As holidays go, that was ok by me, as I've never been overly enthusiastic about Thanksgiving. I did join my boss and his family at his house for a turkey dinner that following Saturday, though. Did you know there's no turkey industry in The Netherlands? This bird had to be shipped in from Germany from some free-range, organic farm, and for a 10-pounder -- 60 euros. That's about $90!

What these experiences have made me think about is which elements of holidays are really important to me. Food is one. :) But I also really enjoy the process of finding the perfect gift for someone, and spending time with people who are important to me. It was harder to be home alone Thanksgiving evening than I first thought it would be, when every one I care about was with family and friends.

I'm really looking forward to being home for Christmas.

Bike Commute

One week under my belt, commuting by bike.

I have a route well established, one that is fairly direct, avoids most of the major roadways, crosses only a couple major intersections, and contains as few left turns as possible. Door to door, the commute is about 30 minutes, and while that's about the same time it takes by tram, at least commuting this way makes the timing predictable. Tramming it in or out means I have to hit the tram stop at just the right time to catch the train, or I end up waiting 10 or more minutes for the next one.

After the first couple of days, I began to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. My knees ached while I rode, and my legs ached at night while I slept. By the middle of the week, it was my thighs that were feeling the pain. But by the end of the week, I'd figured out a comfortable posture, cadence, and knew the route well enough that I could better anticipate where I needed to put in additional power to get over the few inclines along my route. I believe it will only get better over time, and maybe I can even cut down my commute by a few minutes as my speed improves.

I've also been trying to take in my surroundings along this new route, and I've noted that I ride by at least three bakeries (that are open) on my way to work. Good to know if I ever crave a chocolate croissant en route.

I pondered the other day why bicycles don't have a cup holder, with bikes as the primary commuting vehicle and several "Coffee to Walk" shops scattered throughout the city. I suppose, however, the operative word there is "Walk". It's very American of me to expect to grab coffee along the way and take it with me on my commute, I guess. I suppose I'll have to settle for the coffee in the machine at work or learn how to ride with a coffee in one hand, umbrella in the other!

My Bike!

After two weeks living in Amsterdam, I made the leap and bought a bike. So now I can zip to and from work at my own pace (not having to wait for or rush to the tram) and really get the feel for what it's like to be a resident of Amsterdam.

It's a second-hand bike, a Batavus. It's black and grey, with red saddle bags, a bell, and a red chain lock. I chose hand brakes over pedal brakes at the recommendation of the gentleman who sold it to me.


The bike weighs a ton, but it's sturdy. Although pictured here parked outside, I do have indoor storage for it at my apartment and at work, so that should fend off rusting. It should also hopefully ward off theft, but I've been assured I will lose at least one bike to being stolen while I'm here. Until that time, though, I'm looking forward to having this be my new partner in exploration.

Rain

Update: By 1 pm it was sunny, though brisk. I took a ride from my apartment to VondelPark and made it there and back in one piece. It's currently cold and windy again. Gotta love the weather here.

Home for Now

One week under my belt. And it feels good. I've got a rhythm down, know where most of the critical items are, feel like I'm doing ok fitting in. (In fact, I must look like I know what I'm doing. I've been approached at least 6 different times about directions! In some cases, I've been able to help.)

My apartment building faces a canal, but I look over the back garden, which gives me trees and green, which I love, and then I get the experience of water when I leave my apartment. It's the best of both worlds, in my opinion.
I wondered how it'd be moving into a furnished apartment. I chose the furnished route because it was incredibly more easy than shipping a good percentage of my stuff overseas, and I really didn't want to worry about that. But the last time I was in a furnished place, it always felt like I was living in someone else's house. Which, essentially I was.

So far, though, my apartment here feels good. I chose it because it matched my tastes, and has a spare room for guests. I'm composing this as I sit in the guest room, actually, as it's getting the brightest sun of the afternoon of the three rooms with windows. And those who know me well know how much I need sunlight. :)

Each day, I'm making new discoveries, whether it's what's in my neighborhood, as I've described below, or nice-to-knows about my apartment (for example, I needed and found some tape in one of the drawers.) It's fun, these little discoveries. I get a rush out of the exploration, of uncovering, of understanding.

Cross the Street

I had a real eye opening experience yesterday. I had been taking the same route to explore my new neighborhood here in Amsterdam, even walking on the same side of the street. I'd been kind of concerned about my route to the tram stop, as the sidewalk was dark (overhung by a 5-story building that spans a full block), there's construction of the underground metro happening in the middle of half the street, and there seemed to be no inviting stores or restaurants along my route.

However, yesterday morning I crossed the street and walked along the other side of the road, and discovered practically a new world. There are specialty stores (an organic food store, a bakery with tempting chocolate treats in the window), a burger joint, a juice bar, espresso bar, couple of traditional local bars, a couple coffeeshops, and a croissant place I'm dying to try.

I took the same route back home tonight and actually discovered a few additional places I didn't realize were there on the first pass. For example, there's a comedy club nestled between a few of the above mentioned shops.

I was really struck at how changing a simple part of a routine, of taking a path that provides a different perspective can really change an impression, influence an opinion, and open up opportunities.

It's snowing!

Last night when I picked up Jake from daycare, it smelled like snow. It was cold, the scent of wood-burning stove smoke and dried out fallen leaves heavy in the air. Later, the night was active with rain pouring for many hours.

Sliding reluctantly out of bed this morning, I listened for the rain. Silence. Encouraged, I donned on my dog walking outfit (i.e., layers and layers of clothes!), leashed up Jake, and headed outside.

To my surprise, big fat snowflakes were racing down from the sky. A thin layer of snow was already collecting upon windshields, and the streetlights illuminated the flakes with a orange-yellow glow.

October 16 is early for snow, even in New England, but I was delighted by the surprise of it this morning.

Travelog: Amsterdam 2009, Conclusion

Sunday, September 06, 2009

I sit here now at the airport gate, waiting to board and return home. I woke today to bright sun and blue sky, although it is now clouding over heavily. I checked in online at the business center, and helped an older Irish man with the computer he was struggling with (I'm tech support, even on vacation and with strangers!). I packed my bags, counted my change for the train, and checked out of the hotel.

One last time, I walked to the Station. This time, the manned ticket booths accepted cash, and I made my way to the platform. I only went up the wrong side once, but in my defense the platform stairs weren’t marked A or B as they should have been.

Airport security here is done at the gate, which I think is really smart since you don’t get stuck behind the crush of other passengers for other flights in a big cattle wrangle. It relieved a lot of stress actually. I think I’ll try to read on the flight home, but expect I’ll crash.

Overall, an amazing trip, one I’d more than happily make again. And soon.

Thanks for reading, and sharing this adventure with me.
- A

Travelog: Amsterdam 2009, Part V

Saturday, September 05, 2009, Afternoon

Spare Time

I found myself done with two of the three museums I’d planned to see by 12:30 PM. The next item on my agenda, a bike tour of the city, wasn’t until 4 PM. I figured I’d spend two hours or so at each museum, have some time for lunch and travel in there, and then head toward the bike tour, but now I had three and a half hours to kill. So, I decided to see if I could avoid the tram and walk my way back to the bike tour location.

Along the way, I came across a high-end shopping street, Pieter Cornelisz Hooftstraat, which was highlighted in my MapEasy guide to Amsterdam (another great resource, though I found the Amsterdam edition lacking in its breadth of coverage). It’s awnings above storefronts were a blessing when the rain showers came. They came hard and fast, and were gone quickly, but occurred twice or three times an hour. My umbrella got a lot of use, but sometimes it was just easier to take cover under an awning and wait it out.

During one shower, I stopped under the awning of Pasta Tricolores, a trattoria. A black lab was tied up outside, and he nudged toward me. All his attention diverted when his owner came out of the shop, though. It was really cute to see and made me miss my pup. I ended up back at the trattoria after exploring the rest of the street, and picked up a small bowl of spinach rigatoni with sliced cherry tomatoes, cheese, red and green peppers, red onions, and a light pesto sauce. The pesto was only slightly garlickly, which was perfect, as I have adverse reactions to heavy garlic.

Since I had time to kill, I followed the tram line north toward the center of the city and nearer to the bike tour shop. This took me through Leidsestraat, blocks and blocks of shopping (lower end than P.C. Hooftstraat, though containing some of the same shops). As it was Saturday, it was teeming with people, but cars and bikes are not allowed, so I only had to mind the pedestrian and tram traffic – half the danger!

I wandered around, found the bike tour shop (Mike's Bike Tours), and covered pretty much all the area between Nieuewe Spieglstraat and Leidsegracht. The latter was somewhat removed from the buzz of the shopping area, and I found an empty park bench overlooking the canal (quite difficult to come by, as it turns out. They’re quite scarce. Not surprising, given that Amsterdam is a city that’s perpetually in motion. Everything moves – the people, the bikes, the trams, the water, the wind.). It was a lovely neighborhood of old canal houses, with canal boats floating by, several local families out strolling (or biking) with children or with their dogs.

Dogs were surprising well represented in Amsterdam, though most were small, Chihuahuas and small terrier-like breeds. I saw no Keeshonden, at which I was extremely surprised, given they originated in The Netherlands. I guess my Jake is more rare than I once believed!

During one of my stints on a park bench, I watched a young photographer and his model on a photo shoot. She was situated on the stairs leading up to what looked like a newly renovated canal house, with a red and white striped umbrella. I found it ironic that he kept dousing the umbrella with water for a shiny effect or to catch the drops on film when she opened the umbrella, given the morning was peppered with significant downpours.

Time moves incredibly slow when you’re waiting for the next milestone. I found myself with about two more hours to kill after I explored the entire area I mentioned above, so I ducked into a café (not a coffeeshop! I’d been well warned there as well about the difference). I grabbed a Cosmo lying on the counter, which to my surprise was in both English and Dutch. The titles and headings were in English; the body of the articles in Dutch. So I could get a sense of the content, if not the detail. I spent some time sipping a latte, IM’ing back home, and eavesdropping on a group of local 20-somethings who were also there.

Shoes!

I explored a couple of shoe stores, both on the P.C. Hooftstraat and on Leidsestraat. I do love European shoes, and by my own fault, I have had to buy or consider buying shoes each time I’ve visited Europe. I looked this time for some closed-toe sneakers or the like, but eventually passed, as the weather cleared up. I did buy shoes in Paris, though. Purple Ked-like things from ESPRIT that were slightly too large. I don’t remember if I still have them… Next time, I’ll have to suck it up and bring sneakers (buy some cool ones in the States) and remember to pack that travel clock.

The Long Anticipated Bike Tour

Finally, it was time for my bike tour. When I’d stopped in earlier, they mentioned they’d cancel the tour if less than 3 people showed up. Given the day’s weather, I was afraid that’d be the case, and then what? But when I strolled into the bike shop, the requisite number of riders was already accounted for. All told, there were 12 of us: a young Indian couple, two young female expats living in Germany, myself, an older gentleman also on his own, a family of 5 Japanese folks, and our tour guide, Petra. Petra’s a native of Amsterdam and has long brownish-blond dreadlocks and an unending supply of energy.

She started with a history of Amsterdam and an overview of the path we’d take, which was to generally cover the entire old part of the city, with a few zigzags into the newer areas as well. We then mounted our bikes. Mine was a bright orange Townie, with navy blue saddle bags on the rear, perfect for storing my purse. It had fat tires and a wide seat, which actually didn’t treat my still-healing tailbone too nicely. It was supposedly seven gears, though I’m not sure I really got it to engage more than four. Shifting was done on the handlebars, and I got the hang of it pretty quickly.

I’m not expert rider, but I can hold my own on a bike, but the Japanese tourists in the group were definitely new to bikes. I ended up behind the row of them, which was dangerous. One young woman was in stiletto heels, and while the natives may do that regularly, it was a recipe for disaster in this case. This same young woman didn’t understand the concept of shifting, either, which caused her to dramatically slow down on the uprises over the canals – and that trickled back to those of us unfortunate enough to be behind her.

Let me tell you, there are very few rules of the road here in Amsterdam relative to bikes. Petra mentioned only one rule – the person with the right of way is the one who shows the least fear. There are stoplights for the bikes, which were generally obeyed, but we crossed several 4-lane roads without stoplights, and truly took our lives and others’ into our hands. Between the bikes and the cars, I’m glad I didn’t cause a crash.

We stopped maybe a dozen places, and each time, Petra gave us an overview of where we were. We started in the museum district, where I’d been that morning; stopped in Dam square, across from the Queen’s palace; went across the Skinny Bridge over the Amstel; rode past the Anne Frank huis (more on that later); cut through Vondelpark (where it’s legal to be naked and have sex in public); and rode through a few trendy neighborhoods in Jordaan. We also walked our bikes through the Red Light District. Less than my favorite part but at least I can say I’ve seen it.

The tour started at 4 PM and by 6:45 PM we were back again at the tour shop. The two expats and I had become friendly on the ride, and they asked me to join them for dinner. I politely declined, as I was next headed to the Anne Frank huis, as it was open until 9 PM that night. Looking back, I should have joined them; it’d have been a great opportunity to get their perspective on living abroad. Lesson learned for next time.

Anne Frank Huis (House)

Though I have to say I was not disappointed with the Anne Frank huis. The line for entry is always long and I’d read somewhere prior to leaving that it was actually best to go as late as possible. The line when we passed on the bike tour was around the building, probably an hour’s wait, if I had to guess. By the time I walked from the bike tour shop to the museum, it was shortly past 7 PM. The line was practically absent, and the patrons few when I got into the building.

You traverse the various stories of the house, with memorabilia and stories and videos at several stops. It surprising to me the eight refugees hid there for as long as they did. The floors creak at every step, and access to fresh air and sunlight was rare. The most poignant part of the museum, for me, was the portion of the wall where the heights of the children were logged. It’s part a passing of time, part a documenting milestones, and a striking reminder of these young people whose lives were shortened cruelly and too soon.

Anne’s diary and loose pages of her writings are also on display in the museum. It’s hard not to imagine the writing she could have done had she survived the war, as she offered such mature insight and creativity for a young woman.

Duly somber, I took a minute after completing the tour to regain my surroundings and consider my options for dinner. Though it was 8 PM, there was still daylight, though it was fading quickly. I decided to pick up something at Centraal Station and bring it back to my room, and get to blogging about my adventures.

Travelog: Amsterdam 2009, Part IV

Saturday, September 05, 2009, Morning

I wanted to get started early, but in truth lounged around for a bit. All told I was out the door by 9, heading over to Centraal Station to buy an I amsterdam card from the tourist info office. That was a nightmare that I eventually abandoned. I was going to get a card, which gives you access to transportation all day and free admission to dozens of museums, discounts, and the like. I figured it’d be a good value given I had a lot on my list and wasn’t sure how much tramming I’d need to do. But the line in the office was long and slow and full of groups of men (young and old) starting out their weekend of adventures in Amsterdam. I figured I’d make my day work some other way. And I did.

An indispensible iPhone app has been the Amsterdam Mobile Guide. It was the only place I could find tram routes mapped out, and I used that to figure out which line I needed to get started on my day, and which route would bring me back to Centraal Station after walking all over the city. It includes itineraries for 8, 48, and 72 hours in the city, too, which helped me confirm which sights were a “must-see”. And it’s a free download.

The correct tram identified, I made my way to the museum district. First stop was the Van Gogh museum. I arrived 10 minutes before they opened, and a line had formed but there weren’t more than 75 people in front of me, most of which had an I amsterdam card. The museum opened a few minutes past ten and by 10:15 my coat and umbrella were checked and I was standing in front of one of Van Gogh’s self portraits. The Van Gogh collection fills only one floor, though he was a prolific painter.

It was fascinating to see how his style evolved from the traditional Dutch style of dark muted tones, to playing with color and line. The famous works displayed that I recognized included the scene of his bedroom, one of the vases of Sunflowers, one of the vases of Irises, and the Wheatfield with Crows. This last painting is theorized to be his final, and I once had a framed print of this, in another life.

The remaining two floors of the museum showcased works of artists that knew or were influenced by Van Gogh. I then returned to the Van Gogh section, which had become considerably more crowded by this time. I took a final swing around making mental pictures of what I’d seen, and made my way out. It was just slightly past 11.

A hop, skip and a jump later, I was in line at the Rijksmuseum, the national museum of the Netherlands.

The museum is under construction (and has been for something like seven years) so only a small portion of the building is open with a segment of its total works. I was surprised and disappointed at how small it was, actually.

However, I did see the highlights: Rembrants, Vemeers, dollhouses (intricate in their every detail), and a history of Delftware porcelain (which I later experienced in a washroom – as the toilet seat and lid!).

I learned that the trend in wealthy homes in the 17th century had been porcelain from China; however, a strike in China halted the export of their porcelain and the Delft company stepped in, first doing replicas, and then evolving the style into what it is today. Very clever and opportunistic!

I ran through this museum twice, as well, since the collection was limited. On the second time around, I realized that a significant number of paintings included dogs in some form or another. Being a dog lover, I could appreciate their presence in the various scenes and portraits.