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Published: March 4th 2006
It’s a funny old place, Amsterdam. While this may not be the most profound sociological statement with which to open this entry, it is rather apt. The Dutch attitude to pursuits which other nations might regard as extracurricular is well known. Whether or not one chooses to engage in such activities, this tolerance and bloody minded commitment to liberalism (even under pressure from the European Union) is certainly commendable. It’s not until you find yourself walking through the red light district on a Monday morning, side by side with young families and questionable French teenagers that you realize what a strange place it is. Achingly pretty canal boats to one side, rows of scantily clad women to the other; it’s certainly a surreal experience. I suppose that’s partly what traveling is all about though, getting out of your comfort zone, and experiencing the eccentricities of other cultures.
While I’m much too British too partake in the ‘services’ available, wandering around the red light district was fun, in the main because it’s such a unique place.. Our hostel was situated right on the edge of the RLD; so frequent trips through it were inevitable. After a few days it loses some
Warmeosstraat
At night, looking towards the Red Light Districtof its novelty value and at some point a little light goes on and you realize that you could, if you wanted, walk up to one of the many red lit windows, arrange a price and to put it discreetly, go behind the curtain, and no one would bat an eyelid. That realization, when it comes, is an uneasy one. While I’d like to think that I wouldn’t want to make such a purchase, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly tempted (and contrary to popular belief I’d say about 20% of the prostitutes were extremely attractive). This is why strolling through the RLD is, I suppose, slightly exciting. If I lived in Amsterdam I couldn’t be certain that I wouldn’t indulge, simply because It’s an activity that is legally and more crucially culturally acceptable. After all I am male (although I’m fairly certain that I’d be much too uncomfortable in that sort of situation to enjoy it).
With the exception of its liberal attitudes, Amsterdam doesn’t really come across as foreign. Apparently Dutch is the foreign language most similar to English (with the exception of some bizarre one that about three people speak). This is all
very interesting, only of almost no significance, because everyone in Amsterdam speaks English. When I say everyone, you may think I’m exaggerating somewhat. For example, when someone says, everyone in Norway speaks English, when in fact only about half of the people do. To put a bit of perspective on the issue, the sum total of Dutch people I spoke to who were less than fluent in English was a solitary one. This was a bar girl working in the Dutch equivalent of a local pub, in an out of the way residential district, and even she could manage a few words. Admittedly we only really came into contact with people in the service industry, however when an insane/drunk Dutch woman, sitting adjacent to us in a cafe started alternating between Dutch and English during the course of several somewhat disturbing stream-of-conscious monologues I felt it safe to re-classify English as the unofficial second language of the Netherlands.
Amsterdam wouldn’t really work without its canals. It wouldn’t work quite literally, it would be underwater, but it also wouldn’t work on an aesthetic and cultural level. Without the network of canals, and the lifestyle that has blossomed around them, Amsterdam
Warehouse Windows
Now converted into shops and flats would lose what is beguiling and unique about the city. Take a British city for example, placed in this context, the excess of neon (and there is a lot of neon, shopkeepers must get reduced rate on neon or something), the proliferation of the sex trade and the excess of soft drug based establishments would produce a seedy, somewhat threatening atmosphere. That still does exist in a sense, but placed alongside quaint canal houses and quiet cobbled streets it all seems rather quaint and harmless. In some of the more tourist orientated areas it even feels faintly absurd, like a Disneyland of sin.
This was certainly the case on the Warmeosstraat, the street we stayed on. A long and narrow, probably medieval, thoroughfare that would have been the pride of any other city, the Warmeosstraat was lined almost exclusively with Gay clubs, Sex Shows, Coffee shops, Smart shops, fast food joints and Irish pubs. This backed on to a large square containing the towering, gothic Oude Kerk. The edge of the square though was surprisingly and amusingly ringed with red lights. This is the sort of juxtaposition that while it would have been staggering elsewhere, was just business as
Fermentation Tank
From the 'Heineken Experience' usual in Amsterdam.
I’ve read somewhere, and I’m not sure if this is true so don’t quote me on it, that the reason Amsterdam has such cohesive architecture, is that in the 16th century (I think) when a large number of the canal houses were built, strict height and width regulations were imposed so they would not become to heavy and sink into the reclaimed land that Amsterdam is founded upon. I find it ironic that Amsterdam’s prettiness was the result of a quest for utility rather than any attempt to be aesthetically pleasing; an attitude that is currently destroying a lot modern city centres.
Though Amsterdam’s canals are lovely and all, they can also be very confusing to navigate, particularly so for a first time visitor arriving late at night. I have a good sense of direction in general (Mr. Gregory’s resembles that of a fruit bat with tinnitus), something which came in handy on my trip round eastern Europe two years ago, and something which will hopefully serve me well in a few weeks. I think I’ve lost my spider senses though, it was all a bit embarrassing really, but I got us hopelessly lost on
Mural on a Cafe
In the 'De Pijp' area our first night. Amsterdam’s shaped a bit like an onion (not a very good analogy, but if you’ve been there you’ll know what I mean), in that his layers and segments. The layers are bordered by the three or four canals that encircle the city, and these are bisected by the major roads that run from the centre like bicycle spokes. While this layout seems simple on a map, such cartographical simplicity is rather more difficult to navigate in practice. The problem is you can’t really judge what side of a canal you’re on, or indeed how far up or down the canal you are when looking at the map. There are few distinguishing features because the city is planned out so carefully, and as the canal belt runs three quarters of the way round the city, you really could be anywhere. Wandering on our first night, we were quite literally going round in circles; coming across the same square two or three times. I got the hang of it in the end but the geographical oddness takes a bit of getting used too.
Though Chris and I spent 6 days in Amsterdam, it doesn’t seem like we achieved
much. The majority of the time seems have to been spent either wandering aimlessly in the bitter cold, or hanging out in café’s (for café’s read pubs) drinking beer and playing pool.
We did do a few things of note though; most important to me was visiting the Van Gogh museum. I have been a bit of a philistine, for along time when it comes to art, and I probably still am; although I have recently tried to take more of an interest. The difficulty with visual art (painting, sculpture etc), is that unlike other mediums it’s hard to actually experience. Music, Film and Literature are all readily available for a comparatively cheap price. With visual art it’s different; to properly appreciate it you really have to experience it in the flesh, so to speak (a point of view I’ve heard many times from friends more art literate than myself). The only real alternative is those ludicrously expensive art print books and even they don’t come close.
Van Gogh fits the stereotype of a tortured artist neatly. Although he’s now been added to a worryingly lengthening list of suicidal creative types that I’m interested in, it’s not actually
this side of his personality that intrigues me the most. Van Gogh was never technically brilliant. For someone who only started painting in his late 20’s this is perhaps unsurprising: what is surprising is this never held him back, and that he was able to produce astonishing art despite this. He had little interest in fine detail, and his take on perspectives was often completely inaccurate, most famously in his ‘Potato Eaters’ painting. What Van Gogh was really interested in was capturing the essence or feel of a scene without necessarily portraying it accurately. That he was able to achieve what he did without being technically proficient or receiving any artistic training is particularly inspiring. After all isn’t that what art is meant to be all about, trying to express your own view of the world? I think his example (apart from the mental illness, and the suicide and stuff) is particularly encouraging to anyone interested in being creative. Van Gogh demonstrated that you can basically say ‘bollocks to the establishment and still create great pieces of art (whatever medium you choose)
One of the perverse highlights of the trip was the Heineken brewery, or should I say “Heineken
experience” as the Heineken Corporation likes to call it (and indeed it no longer functions as a brewery, so they are quite right). Anyway, while the Heineken experience was fun and extremely good value (beat three free glasses of beer and a souvenir glass), it was interesting, primarily, because it was a great example of the lengths a company will go to, and the amount of money it will spend, on advertising a product. The main body of the “Experience” was a tour of the old Heineken brewery and its now defunct mechanisms, along with simple explanations of the brewing process. This was supplemented with copious number of more technically flashy attractions: various simulator rides, photo and video messaging devices, dentist style chairs that allowed you to watch Heineken adverts though the ages. Most entertaining was the bottle ride, during which, one apparently experienced life as a Heineken bottle; it sounded exciting. We were ushered in to what resembled a stand up cinema and took our places on a movable platform. After a false start (No sound), we were treated to a surprisingly effective, simulation of the bottling process. The interplay between the moving platform and the screen worked well,
though the whole thing was rendered rather ridiculous by a second rate bond film sound track and inappropriate flashing lights. Heineken’s advertising history was also on display, which only served to highlight Heineken’s questionable marketing policy through the ages. The Heineken advertising director is either a) an incompetent ape or b) a man of great vision whose intellect is beyond my comprehension. Common recurring themes were aliens, which isn’t in itself bizarre, but also the Louis Armstrong song ‘What a wonderful world’. Mainly, in fact, aliens singing ‘What a Wonderful World while playing pool in a Dutch bar. Also appearing frequently was Rob Brydon, missing his train stop, somewhere in Central Europe. While the whole ‘Experience’ was quite silly; it was also reasonably fun if taken at face value.
A major part of Amsterdam’s appeal is the lack of motorized vehicles, and this leads to an atmosphere befitting a much smaller, provincial city. While this is admirable it also inadvertently leads to a marked increase in life-threatening instances that might involve your average tourist. Only Center Parks rivals Amsterdam in the bicycles per head ratio; obviously they’re doing something right because, as we realized to our growing discomfort, all
the cyclists in Amsterdam seem to be unreasonably happy. Everywhere you look a cyclist is trilling his bell while completing a neat turn onto a canal bridge; all the while smiling beatifically. I’m not sure why, maybe they’re just happy they haven’t mowed anyone down yet today. While Amsterdam’s bike culture is rather quaint, and laudable in the environmentally friendly stakes, it has lead to, lets see, about 85% of the city being designated a cycle lane. Unlike major roads these cycle lanes tend to be a bit on the tricky side to spot. It’s alright after a few days, your body learns to involuntarily jump, cat like, several meters to one side at the sound of a bell: Until then though, you’re playing a dangerous game!
The trams are no better; Old fashioned, Eastern European, socialist era trams are much more exciting, you can imagine yourself rattling around Prague in the 1960’s pretending to be a persecuted Czech intellectual. They also have the crucial advantage of being loud. Amsterdam trams, being ultra modern, clean and super efficient (as is typical of northern Europeans. There’s even a little T.V screen that displays rolling news.), are about as loud as
a post box. They do have little tinkly bells to alert you of your imminent demise, but then when you step back from the track they’re twice as wide as they have any right to be, almost leading to a couple of visits to the Dennis Bergkamp Clinic for nose amputations. Still, the trams are useful; we only used them a couple of times however, due to our apparent quest to walk the equivalent length of the M4 in one week.
Our hostel was, on the whole, slightly disappointing. You can’t expect Ritz levels of comfort for 12 pounds a night, but it certainly wasn’t the friendliest, or even the cheapest hostel I’ve ever stayed at. The biggest let down was that almost no social atmosphere was cultivated. There was no common room, just the bar downstairs. Really only the basics were provided; a bed, lockers and washing facilities, though there wasn’t anything wrong with these. We did meet some Americans one night, about 48 of them in fact. My jaunt around Eastern Europe wasn’t exactly the most lethargic of strolls, I’ll admit; but these people were classic victims of the ‘its Tuesday so it must be Berlin’ attitude.
Quite how they managed this with a group size slightly below the population of Northern Ireland is beyond me.
While Amsterdam is a lovely place to visit, I’m not sure I’d want to live there (with the exception of the wonderfully self contained Jordaan district). I think eventually I would be turned off by all the kitsch. On the other hand I could easily find myself capitulating to a sort of quasi hedonistic lifestyle of expensive (but crucially legal) sex, drugs and Irish bars.
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Dad
non-member comment
Interesting
Excellently written james. I think I must visit Amsterdam for a holiday