Verwelkom aar Amsterdam

The simplest description I can give of Amsterdam to visually illustrate its physical appearance is a comparison to Prague one of my friends made: Prague is to Cinderella what Amsterdam is to Hansel and Gretel. I wish I could claim responsibility for such an inventive simile, but I have neither the creativity nor the knowledge of Disney animated films. Nevertheless, it really does capture the physical differences between two stunning cities. Amsterdam has the beauty and architecture of Prague, but on a less grandiose scale; what Amsterdam's buildings lack in vertical height and size, they make up for in charm. The city is organized around a number of canals that extend away from the main train station in a series of concentric semi circles, dissecting the streets with their gentle currents. Although we were right in the heart of city, the average street had a quiet, relaxed, almost serene feel about it. For lack of a better, more masculine word, the city was cute. Take the center of Nantucket, the most popular streets of Burlington, or the most attractive area of Northampton, MA, multiply it by fifty and you have a loose representation of Amsterdam. The quaint atmosphere of the city was a clear reflection of its inhabitants who were the warmest, most personable people, collectively, that I have encountered so far in my travels. Random people would go far out of their way to help us with directions or orientation, often summoning friends, phone books, or maps in our inquiries. At the very least, they'd offer a few words of good luck and a smile, which was such a pleasant contrast to the grumbling, shy people you might encounter on the streets of Prague.

The Andrews excited to hit the pavement on their new cruisers. Surprisingly, there was only one casualty: Eddie took a dive one of the nights. We tried to take his key but he was persistent. 

The map on the right does a good job illustrating the canal system on which the city is built. Every street corner and city block looks like the image on the left. Cobble stone streets, colorful buildings, and stone bridges are the city's true trademark.

Everyone together on Saturday night and although it was Big TD's 21st birthday, everyone survived. Turning 21 in a country that has legalized most drugs and has a drinking age loosely set at 16 didn't quite hold the prestige of such an event observed in the States, but we had a great night.

The pace of life in the Netherlands (and the Scandinavian countries as well) is considerably slower than the rest of the world. The competition and work ethic that propel the perpetually turning machinery that is American capitalism and our way of life really distinguish our culture from most others. Motivation, drive, and the relentless pursuit of the next step, whatever that may be, defines us as a country. The Dutch, on the other hand, seem far more carefree and tranquil. Briefly caught in the fairy tale of that lifestyle, I thought about finding a Dutch wife (sorry Molly!) and spending the rest of my life hand painting wooden clogs in a small workshop. No one seemed rushed, irritable, or worried about anything. 

For part of our cultural immersion, we rented bicycles for the weekend, which proved to be a wise investment. The bikes of course were the basket wielding, single gear, backwards-pedal brake cruisers that would have gotten even the coolest kids picked on in middle school. Mountain or racing bikes were probably way too complicated and would have been blatant challenges to the Dutch pace of life. So, we floated around the city on our leisure mobiles feeling like middle-aged Swedish women on their way to pick flowers or something. Because a huge proportion of the city's population uses bikes as their primary mode of transportation, the streets have almost as many lanes devoted to cyclists as cars and trams. The Dutch cyclists had no time for meandering tourists, and although amiable in person, they became dangerous behind the handles. It only took us a few hours to realize the grave implications of breaching the bike lanes on foot and after a few near brushes with death, we found a new appreciation for Dutch biker road rage. Once in the saddle ourselves, our biker gang adopted the same life or death attitude towards naive pedestrians who made the fatal error of crossing the line into the bike lane. The pleasant, little bells each bike was equipped with to warn walkers became the harbinger of death and destruction. 

Our biker gang on patrol in Vondel Park, an extensive maze of paths, ponds, and scenery. We called ourselves the "Misdadigers," which loosely translates to "Bonethugs" in English.

Matt and I cruising at nighttime. Lights on. No helmets. Badass.

The country is, of course, famous for its policies (or lack thereof) regarding drugs and prostitution and although the majority of Dutch people don't exploit either, the city is constantly invaded by armies of rowdy tourists. I won't elaborate too extensively on this subject, as this is a child-friendly blog. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." Right? It's more like, "When in Amsterdam, do as the obnoxious American and English tourists do." The Red Light District and the several blocks dotted with "coffee shops" that are infamous for such absurd behavior don't represent the city or its people, but were an interesting experience nonetheless. Tucker, Matt, Paul, Eddie, the two Andrews, and I all had a fun time experiencing what is essentially a city without rules, but were all content with our short three day visit. The Red Light District was actually pretty sad and clashed with most American values and views towards sex and gender. We redeemed ourselves with subsequent visits to the Van Gogh Museum and Anne Frank House.

Paul's family friends live right in the center of the city and their twin sons, age 21, showed us around the first night. Marius and Jasper are teen stars on a popular TV in Holland. Although there weren't many 9-13 year-old girls (the target demographic of their show) out at that time of night, they were recognized several times as the heart-throb boy toys they play in Spangas, the Dutch equivalent to a Disney Channel hit. The picture on the left is a photograph of a movie poster I took in Amsterdam and the one on the right is a Dutch Red Carpet shot from the internet. It would be like getting a personal tour from the cast of High School Musical; we were instant celebrities by association.

Friday afternoon we took a train forty kilometers to Utrecht, a smaller city of about 300,000, where we met Tucker's friend, Hugo, a Dutch university student he met this summer while studying in London. We had an awesome time with Hugo and his fraternity brothers whose college experience closely mirrored that of any typical American student. Spending a day and a night far from the clutches of the tourist industry with normal Dutch kids and seeing how they lived and operated was really interesting. Abandoning the beaten path to uncover the local flavor and life is always the best way to truly experience a culture and city. Utrecht, which is dominated by a student population of 60,000 (almost the size of ASU), was a beautiful city that closely resembled Amsterdam, but was free of the tourists. Hugo and his friends had heard of Spangas and the twins.

Tucker, Hugo, and Rick at Hugo's apartment. It was a clash of college cultures as we each battled with our respective drinking games. I forget where the large serrated knife in front of Hugo came into play, but it was important. I do, however, know that the blue lighter was used to sterilize it. Those crazy Dutch...

I'm excited for Saturday and the arrival of my Mom and Aunt who will come bearing gifts of gold, frankincense, and Kraft Shapes Macaroni and Cheese (the one American food I've been craving). I get the vibe in our extensive email forum that they are enthusiastic, yet nervous for traveling. Little do they know that, with the advent of the internet, cell phone technology, and ATMs, traveling abroad is much simpler. I don't even know what a Traveler's Check is...