Day 22: Amsterdam

My full day in Amsterdam, and where I realise that I didn’t really have my act together planning this bit.

After possibly not enough sleep, I made an earlyish start for the Rijksmuseum. I figured I could wander down the street my hotel is on and there must be somewhere I could get breakfast, as this also worked for getting the direct tram to the museum. As described yesterday, I really don;t know which establishments actually serve food or coffee in this city, which was made abundantly clear when I headed towards a large stand on the corner, to find that it sold all manner of chicken, from eggs by the dozen, to various cuts and pieces, to sausages and crumbed cuts, to whole ones ready to cook. Not selling breakfast.

Breakfastless, I got to the Rijksmuseum and worked out I needed to get a ticket, fortunately the entrance is plastered with QR codes and I soon sorted this, though technically they let me in before the earliest entry time I could book for. As museums go, the Rijksmuseum has some amazing and impressive artworks in its collection, it’s also a total pain in the butt to navigate, as it likes to divide itself into halves for each floor, and only if you spot the hidden doorway in the middle can you get to the other side. Similarly it takes the visitor through a trail of galleries, only to finish in a dead end making the visitor backtrack to get out. Pretty things hidden in a maze (for those playing at home, I managed 27k steps today, including about 4k trying to get back to my hotel this morning).

I got the bit ticket item out of the way first, Rembrandt’s The Night Watch. It’s huge, and from the distance you’re allowed to view it, stunning. Rembrandt sure could paint hands, and unlike some painters of the day didn’t make his characters bobbleheads. We couldn’t view the full work, as the museum is doing some micro-measuring of how the canvas is being affected by vibrations and air movement, so there’s a bit of apparatus covering part of the art. It’s still amazing.

After The Night Watch came some more Rembrandt, and some Vermeer, and other incredible works. There was the breast room, not the official name, but it was the room with all the various classical and biblical inspired art, and as such featured a lot of topless or naked women. But it’s art, so that’s okay. There’s a room dedicated to classical doll houses, and several rooms for musical instruments and music inspired works, some incredible portraits, including Therese Schwartz, who I wasn’t familiar with but all it took was a couple of paintings and I was a fan.

There are some rooms that tie historical events to the artwork, so a number of works inspired by early Dutch colonisation of Indonesia and kicking off the slave trade with Africa and the Caribbean. I’d like to say that these were done with modern sensitivities, but sadly I think, based on the various descriptions, that these were done some years ago so don’t tend to go deeply into questioning the policies of the day, instead it’s like, “Here’s a painting, and we know all of the models used except the little boy because he was probably just so-and-so’s slave.”

The Rijksmuseum also houses the Dirk Hartog plate, the pewter plate that got nailed to a tree north of Carnarvon, to mark the first time white Europeans left some junk behind in Australia (though 80 years later de Vlamingh came and picked up the plate, but left one of his own. Thus we have the origin of the Australian custom of inviting people over and saying “bring a plate”, as well as the custom of Europeans dumping their junk in Australia.

All cultured out, I hit the cafe for brunch, more bitterballen and a coffee. I could get to like these yummy crumbed balls, because who doesn’t love crispy deep-fried casseroles. A bit of a stroll through the gift shop, and a quick t-shirt selfie (long story, but it’s now a “thing” for fans of the Clouds to take a selfie in a band t-shirt in the main gallery area, after a fan did it last week, and I did it today), and it was time to move on.

I’d heard interesting things about the flea market at Waterlooplein, and from that perspective it didn’t disappoint, I wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, but was certainly amused by all manner of objects, from old magazines, to clothes, to actual slides for a slide projector, to cheap probable knock-offs of souvenirs.

Market browsed, I found a nearby bar/cafe where I could sit in the shade and have a beer and some fries, which was pleasant, I even kicked off my shoes for a bit. Here I checked on the other item I’d planned to visit, Anne Frank House, however this requires booking and there were no available tickets for a couple of weeks. So I made do with wandering past and looking at the house from the street.

Headed back to the hotel to decompress and write Day 21’s entry, before looking at dinner options. This is another part I should have planned better, to understand where I could sit and eat, and maybe make a booking as the more interesting ones were already booked out. So I wandered, and was hit by an amazing smell, there a shop was making and selling large fresh stroopwaffels. I had to stop and get one of these glorious things, an amazing waffle-like crispy round batter, filled with sweet spiced caramel. For dinner I found last night’s bar again, and as there were many free tables outside, i picked a shady breezy one and ended up with a very decent burger and a local pilsener.

I had time to waste before the likely start of any drag shows, so I headed up to near the Old Church, at the edge of the red light district, to check out the “5D Porn Theatre”. One of the many mini-flyer/vouchers at the hotel was for a discount admission, and based on a review that described it more like an amusement ride, thought I’d check it out. It turned out that I was the only person brave enough to check it out, so I got a private screening: “Enjoy, but don’t enjoy it too much” was the advice from the host. It’s different to say the least, between the mid disorientation of the 3D glasses, to the constant rollercoastering of the seats (that also whip you) trying to follow the brief and somewhat surreal exploits of a young man in Amsterdam, while smoke, bubbles, scents and more bubbles get projected over the audience for maybe 10 minutes. A bit like a multi sensory modern take of a Carry On film.

Then I headed south in the hope of catching a potentially different drag show tonight. I’d googled and several bars in the same area appeared to have regular drag events, and while one did appear to have much glitter going on there were no queens this night. So I headed to Lellebel again, and there was a different performer (I arrived after the first set started, so didn’t catch her name). She did a good job, both in being a bit more polished performing, and in audience banter. Again the extended breaks between sets was annoying, however it was pretty hot so that does present drag challenges. I stayed for a couple of sets, waited for a third, but left before it happened. Several other groups also departed at a similar time, so sadly I think the bar would have missed out on a few extra drinks with shorter set break times.

I made it to the tram with a few minutes to spare, and realised I was basically in the same place I’d been the night before. I’m starting to get the hang of Amsterdam geography, right before I leave.

So tonight I’m one of 30 people in a bar watching a drag queen perform, tomorrow I’ll be one of 60,000 people in a park to see Bruce Springsteen.