Log with Liv

Over winter break, I went to the Netherlands with my Dutch best friend who was born and raised in the Netherlands. We spent our days shopping, stopping in as many cafes as possible, and using the country’s incredible public transportation system (take note, America) to travel around to different cities. We spent most of our time in Amsterdam and Den Bosch, and then took a day trip to The Hague. 

The view from outside our Airbnb

Our hotel in the middle of the central plaza in Den Bosch

In Amsterdam, my friend, Jess, and I stayed with her uncle in one of the gorgeous houses that line the streets of Amsterdam. Picture a stereotypical brownstone-type house lined with a cobblestone road and located right on a canal. That is where we stayed. Sitting in her uncle’s kitchen that first day, we received a hand-drawn map of the city with starred “must-see” locations. We also received a helpful list of rules that are quintessentially Amsterdamian at heart, of which being: 1. no puking inside, 2. no taking any drugs we have not already tried, and 3. no taking pictures of the prostitutes. With these oddly-specific, mildly-concerning rules in mind, we set off to explore the streets of Amsterdam.

The view from the front door of where we stayed in Amsterdam

Remember how I said my friend was Dutch? Well, she is the kind of Dutch that comes from a suburb, not Amsterdam. Most of her family intentionally avoids Amsterdam with claims that the city is too busy. Basically, we had no real knowledge of the city besides a highlighted route on the crude map drawn for us. Was it the best idea for us to spend a few days essentially wandering around an unfamiliar city? Probably not. To Amsterdam’s credit, though, not once did I ever feel unsafe, even while walking through side streets late at night to get a midnight treat of poffertjes (mini Dutch pancakes).

Let’s think back to rule number three (aka, the prostitutes). It just so happened that Jess’ uncle lives two streets away from Amsterdam’s famous Red Light District. Prostitution is legal in the Netherlands and this specific area is where a lot of it is based. When you are walking around a new city at night, it is easy to get turned around. Coincidentally, every time we would get lost, we would find ourselves back at the Red Light District. Our trip’s motto quickly became a spin on the classic “all roads lead to Rome,” and the phrase “all roads lead to the Red Light District” experienced extreme overuse in the next few days. This being said, the Red Light District seems to be more of a tourist attraction than anything, but it is still shocking to walk through a street that is impossibly busy at all hours of the night with the buildings around you emitting an unmistakably red hue. The street literally glows red. In the windows of the buildings stand women posing in lingerie, with doorways blocked by muscular men with crossed arms. Definitely a strange sight.

While in Amsterdam trying to avoid ending up back in the Red Light District, we spent the majority of our time shopping and eating. Food highlights include lots of cheese and tea, as well as Dutch classics of bitterballen, oliebollen (one of the best things I have ever eaten), and a mysterious horse-meat sausage that, although I was hesitant to try, was admittedly very good. As far as shopping goes, we spent our days in “The Nine Streets” and discovered that Amsterdam has some of the best vintage shops in the world. (The size of my suitcase severely limited my purchases, but let’s just say that I was able to fly back to Chicago wearing a few more layers of clothes than I arrived with. When in doubt, wear two coats and your biggest sweater on the plane!) We met a few of my friend’s aunts and uncles during our time in the Netherlands, and every one of them made sure to make fun of our decision to not go to any of the many historical sites or museums around the country. To our credit, we did visit the Anne Frank house, which was certainly a worthwhile and sobering experience. We also saw traditional Dutch windmills. See? We are cultured. Did we go to drag queen bingo after visiting the windmills? Maybe, but the important part is that we saw the windmills. In another city, den Hague, which is known for being the unofficial Dutch capital and the center for many international organizations, we also explored the Peace Palace and saw plenty of government buildings.

The Peace Palace

In the moment, and especially when looking back, Amsterdam was one of the most amazing places I have ever been in my life. To say the streets are aesthetic is an extreme understatement. Every single street, ally, and cafe could be taken right out of a postcard. I loved walking around in the cool winter air, looking at all the well-dressed people walking around me, and listening to all the different languages being spoken at once (although my friend did complain that everyone in Amsterdam spoke English and no one seemed to speak Dutch). I even loved fearing for my life every time I crossed the street due to fearless bikers speeding across intersections.

The stereotypes about the Dutch and their bikes are not exaggerated. They may even be understated. The streets are lined with bikes. Everyone has more than one bike. They have a normal bike, of course, but also a cargo bike to really maximize bicycling efficiency. In front of the train station, there was even a bike garage. Not a car garage, a bike garage. The Dutch take their bicycling very seriously. Upon asking my friend if we could bike around Amsterdam, I was scoffed at and told that I would absolutely not be getting on a bike. I was also told that I did not know how to properly ride a bike to Dutch standards. What does that mean? I have no idea, but I have to say that biking on a Dutch street is not for the faint of heart. As a walker, I had enough difficulty figuring out where the street ended and the sidewalk began. Fun fact, when the streets and sidewalks are cobblestone and there are canals in the middle of streets, it is very hard to tell if you are standing in a bike line, standing in the street, or are safely on the sidewalk.

On our final night in the Netherlands, we avoided this street vs. sidewalk debate by taking a boat ride through the canals of Amsterdam. It was a surreal experience. At one point, our boat pulled up to an old stone building on the side of the canal where a window suddenly opened and an arm poked out to give us wood-fired pizzas. Every time we went under a bridge, we had to duck to avoid being decapitated by the low-hanging brick arches. The streets were illuminated by Christmas lights and the whole night felt like a scene taken directly from a movie. Even in the moment, we knew we were creating what was soon to be a fond memory. With that memory now in mind, the accompanying wave of nostalgia excites me for our next adventure.

Doei!

The pizza pickup from the boat

My friend and I being very excited to be in Amsterdam and on a boat