Landing in a foreign country, especially when coming by way of another foreign country, can be trying on ones sense of normal. The Icelandic airport was an oasis in the middle of nowhere, on an island unbound by time. Arriving in the bustling, bright, mile a minute city of Amsterdam was overwhelming. The airport is spotless, with a diverse offering of almost everything. Swedish treats. German snacks. Tours, flights, attractions galore. A slice of everything, both a figurative and literal charcuterie board to be bitten into.

Full disclosure, we are super foreign looking. We hoped that our experiences in Thailand and Japan were mostly due to the fact that we do not look Japanese nor Thai. Perhaps. In Amsterdam we had two separate instances inside of 10 minutes to further drive the point home that we do not blend.

First, we were trying to get our bearings of where the bus pickup area was. While looking around, we were approached by a (German?) man who asked us if we were American. With a mix of guilt and reluctance we admitted “yes.” He furthered his line of questioning by asking if we smoked.

Not cigarettes. Remember. Amsterdam.

“No” we replied, blushing by his bluntness (ha ha) in asking. People do come to this country for other reasons, right? Besides naughty things and illicit substances?

Per example

Pretty sure. Anyway.

“Well, I have this joint and I cannot take it on [ze] plane. You can [haf] it if you [wants] it.”

“Okay, well. We do not smoke. So, thank you. It is nice of you to ask”

“Are you sure? I am just going to throw [icht] away. You can have [icht] for free. No problem.”

“Again, no. It is mostly illegal where we live, and we have careers to go back to. Thanks again.”

“Okay, well enjoy (super Germanically pronounced) Amsterdam then!”

So, after reeling ourselves back to center from that, we stepped further towards our bus pickup. Again we were stopped. Asked if we were American (yes) and what we were planning to do in Amsterdam (excuse me? None of your business strange person(s). My gosh. Boundaries). The older couple admitted to being American as well (woo, Merica!) and offered us free museum passes to the more popular ones in Amsterdam.

Do people even pay for things in this country, or are we all just agreeing to pass stuff around until there are not things to consume? What is happening?

We thanked them as well, took the passes and finally made it out the door. Bright banners, gentle breezes, and round about 6 different languages ebbed and flowed around us. People flocked around an “I AMsterdam” statue, taking obligatory pictures and monkeying around on the letters.

Yearning for shelter, a way away from all of this sensory overload, we worked our way towards our bus. Not to brag, but we have gotten far better at public transit abroad. Research and a bit of intuition goes a long way. Therefore, the curve ball we were thrown as we made our way down the road did not strike us out. Specifically, the scroll that announces our next stop was broken. This forced us at first to rely on the auditory announcement. Which all sounded like Nordic gibberish. So, while the Swedish Chef (bork) was telling us where we were stopping next with us unable to differentiate between what we were reading and what we were hearing, we started to lose our cool.

Fortunately, after a few stops we noticed that the name of the stop was written out.

Solution: keep a keen eye on the stop and run out of the door when we see ours. Problem solved.

Couple subtle high fives and a few stops later, we were out of the door and standing in front of a sports park. Wait, what? This does not look residential. Are we lost? Did we misread something? Shoot, I hope we do not have to de-five and regroup. I was enjoying that victory. Directions say it is down this road. Well, let’s go…

A wave of relief. In the distance, two propellers rose from the horizon, signaling peace and shelter. We finally made it to our home for the week, a privately owned Windmill.

Nestled against a waterway, the mill is a pleasant sight to behold. A backdrop of farmland. Nature surrounds. Soccer players crisscross the fields around us. All seemed welcoming. Then we reached the geese.

Geese are jerks. They look nothing like how they act. They’re basically trash swans. Which is saying a lot, because swans are far from innocent. To put it another way, Sesame Street had us ill prepared for how to interact with large birds. We approached all smiles, a casual pace on a sidewalk. We were met with chest thumping, angry faced, dinosaur posers trying to keep us from reaching the front door.

I have news for you goose douche, I don’t respect your authority and I wouldn’t mind some fresh down for my pillow. You catching my drift?

<Later in our stay I had the pleasure of taking out the trash in front of a group of geese. The tie wrap was orange. The bag white. You know what else has that color combination? A goose. It looked like I had one of their friends by the neck and was dragging it to a bin. The look on their faces was priceless>

Jerry?! Is that you? Guys! He has Jerry!

Once we got around the evil, hissing geese, we were welcomed by our host Roel and his cat, Panther. We travel light (one backpack and a personal sling pack each) and Roel was shocked. He said that was the lightest he had seen any of his visitors pack.  Introductions over, Roel proceeded to show us the inner workings of his windmill. We climbed ladders to the top, and he shared with us the history of windmills in the Netherlands, as well as the inner workings. His particular windmill was used to displace water, and he showed us how the Archimedes screw worked. Perched atop the windmill, we looked out at the neighboring fields where cows grazed in the sunshine. There were quite a few lulls in the history lesson, and we could not help but take in all of this in incrementally. All of this was too much.

We retired to our room, cleaned up, and had our moment of reflection. Rejuvenated, we headed out to Amsterdam for the night. One bus ride and a quick trip on a train later and we were there. Canals, cobbled streets, trolleys and trams. Buildings stretched towards the skyline, a mix of old and new.

The architecture was beautiful. Wood framed windows and brick facades echoed the deep history of this place. Smells of fresh goods emanated from every direction. Calm weather inviting us to explore in comfort.

Famished, we quickly ducked into the nearest eatery that we could find. We were greeted, sat down, our order taken. The host alternated between seating patrons and beckoning pedestrians closer to try their happy hour deals. Admittedly, I had a moment of worry about him trying to compensate for sub-par offerings. Once we saw a few meals being served, I relaxed. Our beers arrived, and our food soon followed. We gorged, finally getting a chance to fill our bellies without emptying our bank accounts. The Dutch are known for being thrifty, and we soon found that you were almost guaranteed to get what you paid for. All of the food, drinks, and activities were well worth what we paid.

Back out on the streets, we alternated between finding some notable buildings and window shopping for goods. In addition, there was a fair amount of aimless wandering, seeing what the next bend would reveal, or where a canal would take us. We found ourselves diving into pubs and restaurants to try an appetizer or have a pint of beer, hungry metronomes going back and forth from one place to another.

One place of note was Arendsnest. Typically, we will not visit a place more than once in an effort to experience as much as possible. Arendsnest was worth making a concession. The taproom is something out of a movie set. The taps are polished copper. The wood interior is warm and inviting. What truly sells the place is their beer offerings. Before coming here, I was confident in America’s presence in the beer world. Even after my first Dutch beer, I still felt, good, about all of our craft breweries and their ability to explore and expand upon styles. Then I had a few more and realized where the crown lay. The flavor is balanced, forward without being overbearing. Easy to drink while packing a strong punch. Absent any unpleasant notes. This coupled with the fact that their are over 50 beers on tap, with another 100 offered in bottles makes it near impossible to reject one more pint.

Yay, beer!

Cafe de Fles was to food what Arendsnest was to beer. We went to this cafe at the suggestion of my coworker. Easy to miss, you have to look for the knee high sign pointing you towards a basement entrance. As an aside, our interactions with service staff up to this point had been short and businesslike. We were obviously foreign, and the Dutch are known to be terse. Not so here. We were welcomed with warm smiles and light banter.

“Is this seat taken?”

“[Ze] restaurant has taken it from our supplier in exchange for money so you may use it”

“Do you like this menu item?”

“I am a married man. Also, I do not find romance with food to be particularly rewarding.”

I like this place.

The food was amazing. We ordered an eggplant and red pepper pasta dish, some tempura item, and drinks. All of them were expertly prepared. The food coupled with the warm staff made for an unforgettable experience. It is worth noting that the two times we dined considerably farther from the city center we found the service to be considerably more social. No one was ever rude, but a lack of small talk was quite different from the American restaurants we were used to.

Anne Frank House was another must see attraction. Keep in mind, the house is a huge draw for tourism, so plan ahead. Order tickets online ASAP. We saw lines of up to 3 hours long for people who did not make reservations. Both of us had read the Diary of Anne Frank prior to our visit so that we would have a greater understanding of where we were and what we were experiencing. More than once were we unable to handle the deep impact of what we were being presented. Images of those trying in vain to keep their lives intact, maps of Jews being tracked in neighborhoods, and short clips of how the war was progressing tugged at our heartstrings and had us questioning how people could be so inhumane. We continued up the floors of the building, and were given a chance to see one of the more notable structures mentioned in the book, the Westerkerk clock tower. It’s beauty was a welcome, but temporary escape.

Westerkerk Clock Tower

Coincidentally, we were in Amsterdam during Liberation Day. May 5th, 1945 is when the Germans surrendered. This event is commemorated by memorials, live music, periods of remembrance, and celebration. We walked down a street which had flowers laid out for those lost during the occupation, while a band played upbeat music in the distance. The whole experience gave us a bit more faith in the resilience of good men and women.

Skinny Bridge

After the Anne Frank tour, we were in desperate need of something to lift our spirits. We headed towards a food cart and the Van Gogh museum. Here we were treated to our first real Stroopwafel. For the uninitiated, these are baked treats made of thin waffles which hold a caramel-like filling between them. They go perfectly with coffee, and can be dipped into your drink of choice for an extra treat. Invigorated by sugar, we planted ourselves in the line for the museum. Nicole has been a fan of Van Gogh for some time now, and I admire his work. Visiting his museum made both of us appreciate his work far more. Van Gogh was so talented with everything he put his mind to, yet he was tortured by a lack of satisfaction with his work. His magnum opus, Starry Night, represents only a fraction of the style of painting that he was proficient at. This is not a museum to be passed up.

Now, onto the more popular and seedy elements of Amsterdam. Yes, we did weave our way through the Red Light District. Personally, I expected it to be uninviting. Specifically, I was certain there would be a strong criminal element here, and smiles pasted on desperate faces of the women. Again, I was mistaken. While we were offered cocaine twice, it was done in such a way that it was easy to ignore, and we quickly laughed off the proposal. There is a strong law enforcement presence here, and people are kept in order quite well. The most uncomfortable experience was actually watching the women yell at people taking pictures of them, which is strictly forbidden. The reason given was that some, if not all of them have day jobs and would like to remain anonymous. Plus, rude. I mean, I do not like people taking pictures of me working, and I am just an electrician. Mind your business, am I right?

A consenting canal

Seven Bridges

Another interesting fact is that Amsterdam has over 800,000 bicycles in circulation. Their presence on the roadways is large, and constant. Of these, 12,000-15,000 are recovered from the canals each year. People get drunk and drop them into the canals, or they are lost by other means. There is actually a person who has made a business of recovering them and selling them back to the people for cheap. He fixes them up, and encourages people to drink and lose as many bikes as they like “because otherwise I would be out of business.”

Poor guy is two tired

During our stay, Roel was the perfect host. Not only was he helpful with supplementing what we learned on our trips with his own knowledge, but he went out of the way every morning to prepare us a breakfast. We would come down to freshly baked bread, cheese, fruit spreads, and a hard-boiled egg (in a chicken cozy). Plus, his cat Panther was super friendly and would greet us with sweet purrs, and a surprising lack of claws given the amount of belly rubs he was given.

 Amsterdam was so pleasant. We never ran out of things to see or do. Getting on the bus in the morning had us filled with anticipation. We spent as much time as possible seeing what we could, and still we left feeling like we had only scratched the surface of what this place had to offer. We look forward to visiting again, sooner rather than later. Make time to visit. This place has the ability to enrich your life.

Just, you know…dont enjoy it too much…