Welkom in Amsterdam

 Goededag!
 I suffered some technical difficulties which delayed my posts.  I wrote them and will post one each day until I catch up!

Don’t come to Amsterdam looking for grandeur.  This was a merchants’ city even in the days when it was the capital of an empire, and even the palace was once the city hall.  Unlike many other European capitals Amsterdam does not have Roman origins.  The story is that two fisherman fetched up at an island in the Amstel River.  Their dog jumped out of the boat on to dry land and promptly barfed.  “Aha!” cried the fisher folk, “A good omen” (I’m not grasping this myself) so they founded a settlement.  Eventually they built a dam—hence Amstelledam which became Amsterdam.

I am very glad to be here, and it is worth the long flight.  The night before, trying hard to look on the bright side, I muttered “Maybe this means I’ll sleep on the plane,” as the illegal fireworks on my street when on and on into the wee hours.  Note to self: Spend the fourth elsewhere from now on.

My trip went smoothly.  I experienced the x-ray machine and pat down, but no one was interested in my baggie full of toiletries. The plane left an hour late and no sooner had we reached cruising altitude, when the pilot called for a doctor to attend a sick passenger.  Uh oh.  I had visions of us having to return to LAX, but fortunately for everyone involved we did not.  We get meals on these long haul flights, but if the dinner has to label itself “Delicious Meal” then naturally I am skeptical about the taste.  Rightly so in the case of dinner.  I think it was meant to be chicken parmesan with pasta.  I think that red substance was tomato something.  Breakfast was better—a nice hearty Northern European breakfast: omelet, sausage, roasted potatoes, fruit.  My theory was that the white stuff that tasted so odd was yogurt.  After that one taste, I took a pass on it.

Once on the ground at Schipol, I breezed through passport control, collected my bags, had an easy trip into the city on the train.  The directions to the apartment were very clear and easy to follow, but I fretted the whole way, because I’d arranged to meet the proprietor, and I was more than an hour late.

As I walked along with my luggage scanning the numbers, I heard someone call my name in a questioning way.  It was Ton the proprietor.  He’d had the foresight to ask for my flight number when I booked the room, so he knew I was delayed.

The place I have is large for an Amsterdam apartment.  It’s reached by a narrow steep stairway—typically Dutch, and when one enters the apartment there’s another steep narrow stairway up to the living area.  One side has a street view, the other has a little balcony over looking the backs of houses and their gardens.  Charming!

I unpacked and set out for a stroll. The sun came out for me as I strolled the tree-lined canals.  The atmosphere was peaceful and the air soft and cool.  Delightful!  One does have to be more aware of bikes than cars, but people were out and about and no one seemed frantic or in a hurry.

I decided to do the cliché tourist thing and take a canal tour.  As I was last on the boat I did not have a good seat, but the view was fine and was a relaxing introduction to the city.  Many companies run these tours.  The normal ones take about an hour and go across the harbor, through the main canals and on to the Amstel River with commentary pointing out the sights.

By the time the tour was over jet lag had caught up with me, and the clouds looked ominous.  I headed home by way of the grocery story across the street.  When I emerged, it had begun to rain, and I had not brought my umbrella, but all I had to do is dash across the narrow road to my door where I enjoyed the Tour de France and my meal.  I had some olives and a roasted vegetable salad along with some Amstel Blond beer, which was slightly sweet, light. and refreshing as I watched the race and listened to the gentle rain pattering on my windows.  Probably Alberto Contador wished he could share it with me.  He’s having a miserable Tour, but we’ll see what happens when the race reaches the mountains.

Dag!