I had previously vetoed a hostel choice because they marketed their proximity to S&M shops as a "positive" trait. LITTLE DID I KNOW all hostels that are remotely affordable in Amsterdam are in close proximity to every kind of sex related something you can think of, plus at least two thousand more you've never thought of. This was one of the parts of Amsterdam that I really hated. I don't know if it's worse that it was so blatant, or worse that other places try to hide it, but sex as an industry is the saddest and most shocking thing I've ever seen. Only Bangkok compares in the level of accessibility.
But thankfully, we were able to spend all our waking time outside of the red light district and it isn't so awful when the "museums" are closed in the mornings. The first night we were there, we set out in hunt of sausage and waffles and Christmas markets and were wildly successful. However, Amsterdam is a city of canals (thus #canallie), and this proves to be extra confusing in the darkness. Pretty much makes it impossible to orient yourself, to remember where you've been, or to find where you want to go. But it makes it easy to circle back to the same square ninety times or find the eighteen buildings in the city that exactly resemble Central Station. But ok. Sipped hot mulled wine and got my first waffle smothered in berry syrup, chocolate, and diabetes and watched a real life street fight.
Overnight chaos must have ensued, because we woke to a dead and dirty (in too many ways) red light district, and signs all over the city about "white heroin sold to tourists as cocaine." I barely even know what cocaine is let alone white heroin, but it killed three and caused one of the strangest anti-drug campaigns I've ever seen. The signs blocked pretty much every picturesque, or at least famous photo opp in the city. This also allowed me to learn that "coffee shops" are actually cannabis shops (who else had no idea how to pronounce that word? Probably still don't and have openly embarrassed myself twice. 420 in Boulder wasn't enough I guess).
We went to the Jewish Museum/Portuguese synagogue. The museum itself was a bit dry in comparison to some of Europe's other Jewish history memorials, but the synagogue was great--it's perfectly intact since the 1600s or something like that and was saved during WWII because it would have been to "hard" to cover all the windows in converting it to a Jewish deportation center. Then we happened upon the best of antique markets that sold almost exclusively fur hats, fur coats, and eighties snow onesies. MY KIND OF PLACE. Plus, they sold apple beignets that were really raisin fried blobs. I also was peer pressured into trying bread with green stuff in it that turned out to be basil naan (?) but really could have been edibles (?). At least it was a safe distance from the weed lollipops.
Then we visited Anne Frank's house. This is the best museum that I have ever been to. They do an amazing job of preserving her "memory"/telling her story and the story of Amsterdam in WWII. At one point, you see a scaled model of the hiding place with replications of the furniture as Otto Frank (papa) remembers. I caught myself thinking, wow that looks surprisingly spacious and nice. This thought is immediately squashed when you step into the hiding place for the first time. The Gestapo removed all possessions (except, strangely, Anne's diary, Hi God) after they arrested the families, and Otto Frank requested the rooms remain empty in the museum. This is incredibly powerful. The first room, where Anne's parents and sister slept is dark and small. I can't imagine three beds fitting there, plus whatever else they needed to have it be the family's sitting room by day. Anne's room is even smaller and is still plastered with pictures of the life and freedom she longed to have.The farther you go, the more you are shocked/horrified that eight people lived in such a small place for over two years A)without getting caught and B)without killing each other. It all ends with hearing about how they were anonymously betrayed and all sent to different concentration camps and all killed except Otto Frank. Who had to come back and read his daughter's diary and published it and created the museum all in the span of a few years post-Nazi regime. I can't even begin.
Next we decided to consult the list of things in Amsterdam we'd noted to do, and apparently the only thing we felt necessary to actually write down was stamppot. Which is a Holland food that's mashed potatoes with carrots or kale mixed in, topped with gravy and sausage. This also happened to be the most elusive and expensive food in Amsterdam. We'd given up and stumbled into the next place we saw. Cafe Chaos. I was about to order the Chaos Sandwhich and #yolo it up, when on another whim, we asked what the specials of the day were. THE BLESSED MAN DESCRIBED STAMPPOT AND CHANGED MY LIFE. It couldn't have been more perfect if I'd chosen this beforehand. I actually ate the best sausage of my entire life (past, present, and future). They also had this delicious dark beer that tasted like melted caramel. And then we found this other gr8 microbrewery that gave you free endless peanuts (Bier Fabrieken for 65-year-old Allie).
Day 2 was WINDMILL DAY. Apparently Holland is famous for windmills. Who knew. We found this small village via train where we upped our Allie-was-mistaken-for-Tore's-Wife-Count to 3 (also, I'm sorry, Wife? Please let me go back to when children thought I was a fifteen year old high school exchange student, thanks). But it was this gr8 little quiet town who has a homeowner's association that requires every home to be Christmas colored and every apple muffin to be delivered from Heaven's clouds. I'm absolutely going to look back on this blog and be embarrassed by how much I've talked about food (#gluttony). But then we toured windmills and learned about windmill things like how they crush chalk or make paint dye. And then caught ourselves being engineers and holding up the line by trying to figure out how the gears worked lol. But it was also one degree outside (NOT EXAGG. Welcome to Celsius, Allison) so we couldn't last very long. So we tried to go inside this cafe that had coffee advertised outside. But it was a "museum" of the first grocery store in Holland started by a man named Albert Heijn and currently run by a blusteringly excited shopkeeper. Possibly the weirdest thing I've ever seen. But we found a real cafe and ate warm roast beast and hot chocolate so life continued.
We picked out a new place to try for dinner on our last night, but fate and our feet thought otherwise and led us to Cafe Chaos. We debated for 2 seconds if it'd be weird to go inside and beg for sausage, but we caved and did and it was beautiful. I can't convey how wonderful everyone there was. They kept begging us to stay. They all spoke weirdly gr8 English and were all definitely local local local and gave us all the Holland tips. When we left, our parting question was for her sausage recipe. She pointed around the corner and said, "special offer at Albert Heijn." ALBERT HEIJN anyone else remember that RANDOM grocery store museum we visited? YA THAT WAS HIS. So naturally we went to the grocery store to stare at raw sausage specials and know we couldn't cook them ourselves. But then we found a drink called apple pie which I'm 80 percent sure was sugar water topped with whipped cream although it was in the "Alcoholic Tastes" section of the menu, but it was delicious. We ended Holland with the best waffles of my life and I still don't know whether to call that place the Netherlands or Holland. Amsterdam was one of those mostly-glad-I-went-but-probably-will-not-return places. The only reasons I would go back would be to eat sausage with my friends at Cafe Chaos or to participate in Friday Night Skate on the #canallies in deep winter. Or maybe to try one of those "coffee shop" things.
Mariko got these gr8 cards that let us into all Barcelona museums for free so we spent a whole day being ultra cultural and arty. And then I tried to ask her to show me a picture of her sister's ultrasound and because neither of us knows the word for uterus in Spanish I explained it by saying "baby in her stomach" and she um then tried to explain to me that pregnancy does not in fact involve babies in stomachs. Thanks Mom for never telling me.
Also does anyone else find it wildly hilarious that I've played basketball or football every week since I've been here? LOL @ that. Thx YL.
xoxo,
#AintNoHollandBackGirl.
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