On the premise of Stroop Waffles and beautiful tall blondes, Amsterdam was an obvious choice for a weekend trip out of London. But this gothic city is full of gloom, gouda and ganga — an excellent vacation destination for marijuana lovers, not so much for me.
It was inevitable that I wouldn’t love every city on my two-month-long journey through Europe. Honestly, I was getting a bit exhausted from my yearning to move to every new place I discovered. On first impressions, Amsterdam was shaping up to be yet another city I would consider living in. After a weekend of piss-stenched streets, cigarette-littered cobblestones and bitingly cold summer days, I was chomping at the bit to return to London.
This is not to say I didn’t have fun. For a two-day change of scenery, Amsterdam is a blast, and there were elements of the city I did love: the boats, bikes and Van Gogh if we’re being specific.
The day we arrived in Amsterdam, my mom and I had no plans other than to get a sense of the new city we found ourselves in. We spent the afternoon strolling the canals and remarking every time we saw a crooked building, which got tedious considering the Amsterdam skyline is so wonky it’s almost cartoon-like. Ending our day with a unique dining experience at Pllek, a restaurant made of shipping containers, I had the first vegetables I’ve had all month in Europe.
We woke early Saturday morning to catch our reservation for the Van Gogh Museum, the most spectacular thing you can do if you visit Amsterdam. The most surprising and special part of the museum was the anecdotes about Van Gogh’s life and his relationship with his brother, Theo, and his large network of artist friends. Van Gogh lived a beautiful life full of love and support, a narrative that is not often depicted in stories of people with mental health issues. He saw so much wonder and life in nature and had such a strong passion for the things he found beautiful. I felt so lucky to be able to see the world through his genius even if just for two hours.
My favorite painting was a small landscape piece in the temporary exhibit on loan from Musée d’Orsay. It is a painting of Marguerite Gachet, Van Gogh’s good friend Doctor Gachet’s daughter, in her garden in Auvers-sur-Oise. The paint is thick and blotted, texturizing white roses and scattered wildflowers. Marguerite stands near an overgrown gate wearing a buttery yellow hat and a simple white dress. You can hardly make out her features but something tells me she was beautiful.
We left the museum after purchasing postcards of our favorite paintings, and though I could not find one of Marguerite, I could not have asked for a more special experience. In much need of some light-hearted fun after an emotionally heavy morning, my mom and I rented bikes and cruised through Vondelpark. With my ears ringing from the constant wail of London police sirens, the bike chain clatter that cushioned the streets of Amsterdam was music to my ears. Hats off to sustainability, bikes are more common in Amsterdam than Subarus are in Oregon. In every alley, bikes decorate the brick walls, and the bike racks along the canal are so crowded that if you squint your eyes it becomes one giant hunk of metal. The only thing guarding them from theft: a chain looped around the frame and back tire, a Eugene resident’s wildest dream.
In the spirit of tourism, we ended our day with a canal cruise. Admittedly, it was more complicated than either of us should have liked. I got scammed by a rather convincing and fraudulent Trip Advisor advertisement and accidentally booked reservations for the least tasteful of venues. Had I been with friends I probably would have welcomed a boat full of boys and cheap booze, but my mom was not on board. After much failed negotiation, we climbed aboard a new, less drunken boat with $60 down the drain and two complimentary drinks from our new hosts who pitied us for not being able to persuade the booze cruise for a refund.
Stress aside, the canal cruise turned out to be the most fun part of our trip. Huddled together under a blanket and drinking Chandon Garden Spritz, we were perfectly content taking in 360-degree views of the city streets and listening to a slightly historically inaccurate yet comedic guide through Amsterdam. Writing this now, I feel my initial judgment may have been too harsh. I certainly wouldn’t like to live in Amsterdam, with the clouds and lack of cute cafes, but it was a wonderful place to spend a weekend.
