Day 23: Amsterdam, Aachen, Landgraaf
We can just call this Bruce Springsteen day really.
Started in Amsterdam, checked out, and it was a simple single tram to the central station. Grabbed a muffin and a coffee, thinking that would work for breakfast while there would be something on the train to Aachen.
Nope, no food to be found, just seats, not even a great amount of luggage space so once the train started filling up I had to be reminded that suitcases can go in the space between seat backs. I tried not to look too enviously at the older lady who had packed a sandwich, so apparently it’s a real thing, and the KLM sandwich snack wrapper was telling the truth.
It’s a fairly easy train ride otherwise from Amsterdam to Heerlen, no spectacular Scottish Highland scenery, just fields and wind farms and cows (apparently the highest mountain in The Netherlands is just over 300 metres, probably explains why this part of the world is called the Low Countries.
Got into Aachen, a little after 2pm, thought I could check into my hotel, find another snack and some water, and then head to Landgraaf, where Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band were putting on an intimate performance for maybe 60,000 people. Hotel has a strict no check in before 3pm, so had to wait. At least I had some water with me. There were a couple of other groups also waiting to check in, here for the show, and from what I could gather, they ended up just storing their luggage and taking taxis to the venue, so probably had to check in when they got back.
Checked in, it’s not the smallest hotel room I’ve ever seen, but the door (when it opens, the latch is a bit sticky) does hit the bed, and the bathroom is tiny, but it’s only for 2 nights. Unloaded, changed, and headed back to the train station.
Here’s where the plan got a little unstuck, turns out the trains weren’t running, so there were replacement busses. I used what little German I have to get a ticket for the bus there and back, plus a timetable indicating return train times as the trains should be running by then. Only had a few minutes to get the bus, so missed out on grabbing a snack, but there should be food at the venue, right?
The replacement bus dropped us a way down the road from the actual train station, and even further from the venue. I befriended an Irish guy named Pat (I kid you not, I told him it would be the only way I’d remember his name) so we strolled together trusting google maps to lead us to the Megaland venue. As we got closer, the crowds got thicker, a lot of people converging from the multiple routes. My ticket let me in (I wasn’t completely sure it would as I bought it from the official Ticketmaster reseller space) and I was in the land of Springsteen.
If only the act of queuing provided nourishment and sustenance. Was a fairly easy queue to get some merch, but then it all changed. Once inside the venue proper, none of the vendors take cards or cash, everything is done with little tokens called mentees or muntons or something like that. I managed to work this out after 30 minutes in a slow moving queue for some frites, so I then went in search of where to get these tokens. Found another queue, where folks can buy blocks of 5 for 18 euro each, 10 for 36, etc. Basically it’s a con, a total rip off, as it forces you to buy currency before you even know what the value of said currency actually is. If I but 10 is that enough for some food an drink? How many melons does it cost for a tray of chips and mayo? And what happens if I end up buying too many (answer, you get ripped off). While I appreciate that it takes the load off vendors having to handle payments, this comes at the expense of the consumer.
Moggies in hand, by this stage I’ve spent at least an hour just standing in queues within the venue, I head to what looks like a moderate queue for frites and sausages. Seems a good start. Probably took at least another 30 minutes, the support act finishes their set while I’m still in line. I finally get some food, hand over two memoes, and head for somewhere fairly central to see the show. It’s the usual, thing, lots of tall people (apparently the Dutch are among the tallest populations on average) but I can see the stage and eat some food.
Then out comes the band, followed by Bruce Springsteen, and they launch into a blistering performance of “No Surrender” that gets all 43 million attendees going. I can just see the actual performers, but there are also huge screens so not all is lost. I’m not going to do a full review of the show, as I’m totally unqualified being the first time I’ve actually seen Springsteen live, and you can already see the set list online, and probably find video of all the songs based on the number of phones being held up. I will say that by getting the audience in to clap and sway along to various numbers is probably a great way to get folks to put cameras away.
About two-thirds in, I’m conscious that I’ve bought 10 mosaics, and only spent 2, and also haven’t really consumed much liquid while standing in a field in the sun, so I head to one of the bars, queueing again. In at least one regard the Dutch are just like everyone else, they go to concerts just to hear the sound of their own voice, thinking that everyone has paid 100 euro to listen to them blabber over the top of the performer. So I missed a bit of the intro to “Last Man Standing”, but at least put some more fluid into my body. One good thing they do is a cup token system, you get a token and use it with your first drink, then keep the cup. If you want to order a drink and don’t have a cup or token, you get charged extra. one way to encourage recycling.
Didn’t make it back to my original central position (fairly close to the sound tent, always a way to ensure you get a decent audio experience) so stayed to the side, among some noisy but generally enthused folks. The biggest tracks get saved for near the end, the hits from Born in the USA and Born To Run, finishing with “I’ll See You In My Dreams”. An awesome show, I’d be more than happy catching another at a smaller paddock.
Then it was time to head back through the streets of Landgraaf, with the flames of freedom lit within our bellies and, at least for some, waves of fluid in their bladders that had to be released in any dark corners that could be found. So it was probably good that I didn’t drink enough water.
If I was to judge Dutch logistics on this night, I’d have to sum them up as pretty crap. It seems that there were now trains running, but only in the direction of the Netherlands, not towards Germany. The directions back to the replacement bus stop were quite vague. At this stage I met J, a New Zealander living in the Falkland Islands and a huge Springsteen fan, as she was right behind me asking the same question about directions that I was. So even though we both asked for directions, the response wasn’t great, and ended up with us stopping at every group of people and asking them, “Aachen?”
We eventually found the right place, quite a way from the train station — again, what is it with a train replacement bus service that doesn’t actually go from near the station? There was a gent attempting to coordinate the busses that seemed to be queueing there, which involved talking on his phone a lot, telling people the next bus would be very soon, and otherwise chatting to drivers of empty buses that were just sitting there, and would drive off every 5 or 10 minutes to somewhere unknown.
After maybe an hour of being told “Aachen bus very soon”, one of the group managed to get a bit of truth out of him, apparently two busses were supposed to be coming, but one had disappeared. The other then turned up, but was already full, though who knows where the people managed to find that bus. So back to waiting, and wondering if anyone around me knew how to drive a bus, as we had enough to take charge of one of the empty ones that kept rolling past. I’d mused that it might just be the ones getting people back to Germany that were being stuffed around with, afterall, they aren’t staying in The Netherlands. Funnily enough, another person who is more local and might know better said exactly the same thing, and suggested that the reason the trains weren’t running was to funnel people away from having too many gather at the train station.
Eventually two buses turned up out of nowhere apparently bound for Aachen. And both were already half full, but there seemed to be enough space for everyone waiting, which is good as the joviality among the group was starting to wear off. Turns out that there was a musician on my bus, who had guitar, harmonica, and a bunch of songs from the Springsteen back catalogue, so he took requests and the bus went through the classics, singing along. At one point even the driver requested a song, and stopped the bus so he could record a little bit of video. It certainly made the ride back a lot better. Someone passed a hat around for the musician, and when the bus driver was skipped, he asked the hat to come back so he could put some coins in, too.
The bus was stopping at additional places on the way back, including closer to J’s hotel than the train station. As a solo female traveller, she’d mentioned some of the crap that goes with that, and was wondering if there’d be a taxi at the train station, so when we stopped I suggested this would be better for getting off. Definitely closer, but as it was also an area where various men feel the need to claim as their toilet, I walked with J to her hotel, waved goodbye, and then took my male privilege through the streets of Aachen back to my hotel, a path where I wasn’t yelled, at, harassed, assaulted or otherwise threatened. Or even spoken to.
Tomorrow’s the last full day of travel for this trip, in Aachen and surrounds, depending on how I feel after the big day out.