Water, water everywhere

“Set your mileometer to zero at the PC World....you’ll see a duck pond on your left.....continue on until the portacabin...” (The directions posted on the carpark’s website.)

And so began our latest journey. This half-term break we’re off to Amsterdam. The directions to the car park were typical for this part of the earth; I haven’t yet tired of not seeing street signs and you’ll note fron their directions there simply aren’t any. You find a starting point, set the odometer to ‘0’ and go. If you pass the set amount, you’ve missed it. Go back to square one and start again. But we didn’t have to do that this time because every time we took a wrong turn, and we’ve started to notice them sooner, we turned around, repointed and resumed. We found the airport with lotsa time.

God loves me. Ok, IF there is a God and IF it’s capable of love, it loves me. I’m feeling the warmth of its Sun as I walk the streets in the most attractive city I’ve seen since leaving Vancouver. The buildings lean over the streets and on their neighbours like a bunch of old friends posing for a photograph. The weather’s god-sent, sunny and still, so a few minutes with a frisbee and the sleeveless feels pretty good. And we’re here in less time than it takes to drive to Penticton from Vancouver. An hour in the air and we were set down a 15 minute train ride from this maze of canals. With my feet now kicked up in our canal boat I can tell you about my first impressions of Amsterdam.

A five minute walk from the train station (“3rd canal over”) is our floating home, a big barge converted to rental status. Full kitchen and full everything means we didn’t have to give up the comforts of home to settle into another city. And what a city. But I’ll tell you ‘bout that in a moment because I think the best part of this trip is where we’re staying. It’s big and warm and cozy and floats in a downtown canal. It’s 60 feet long and 15 feet wide and low enough to fit under all the low bridges but big inside. If the weather was crap, it’d be a good place to hunker down for games and wine and getting rocked to sleep. It’s not cheap ($240/nt) but it’s worth every freaking nickel. Having a kitchen means we don’t have to eat out every night and day and makes me feel more a temporary resident than a tourist. And saves cash.

The canals are the necessary circulatory system of this below-sea-level land. Water has been pumped out of here since 1400 and the canals are used to drain the water but also function as wet streets taking tourists where bikes can’t go. Some cargo still barges down these canals but beyond its prime ordinance to drain it’s primarily a residential/tourism feature. A canal runs along most streets and on each side are one-way streets with bike lanes as wide as the street.

They’re ridden by old men with overcoats over their suits. Young women in skirts, blonde hair and scarfs trailing in the wind, chat on their cellphones as they cruise by. Bikes are the major form of transportation and may be why I’ve fallen in love with this city. Being flatter than a plate of piss means 21-speed aluminum alloy bikes are unnecessary and non-existent. They’re all one-speed monsters that stand as tall as me and force me to sit up as I ride. How very civilzed. They call them “omafiets”, grandmother bicycles, and EVERYONE rides them. They all look a hundred years old and come in black or dark grey. Some have buckets up front for kids or cargo, a third have child seats and they compete with trams, cars and pedestrians for space.

The guidebook says there are 2,000,000 residents in Holland and 2,000,000 bicycles so the roadways are designed for them. The bike lanes have painted lines and their own lights at intersections and while assholes come in both two and four wheel varieties, the bike traffic is quite civilized and patient. None of the ‘head down, you’re in a race’ posture that afflicts riders where riding is less common. When the bikes aren’t in motion they’re chained to the railings around the canals and form part of every street scene. There’s dynamos (remember them?) turning on the front wheel to light your way home (unless you stop) and the ladie’s bikes have artificial flowers woven into their baskets.

We rented bikes for our stay and they’ve allowed us to see the majority of this city, much of it again and again. The local alleys feel like long entrance halls to our floating home, the railings our personal garage. People here use the city as their home and when not working are in their local cafe only returning home for food and sleep. All else comes from the city and perhaps it’s just the wonderment of the tourist but this is a wonderful place to be out and about.

It’s reminiscent of Gastown, Vancouver’s grasp at the past, but more authentic with 500 year old buildings housing everything the hungry tourist could want. Hungry for company? We’re just off the red light district where you can check out potential companions in their skivvies at the windows that line the streets. Or satisfy that hunger of another kind at a ‘coffeeshop’ where you can buy a gram of this or two of that and shoot a game of pool. There’s a well-established chinatown and prices here are ‘European’. Wine’s cheap, restaurants aren’t. Two coffees, a pastry and a shake for Luka; $20. Meal at a cheap restaurant for 3; $60.

Just the natural sights are enough to engage the newbie. Strolling down the streets with every bridge a photo-op takes up hours, mix it up with a little window-shopping (nudge, nudge) and the days are filled. But this is also the home of Rembrandt...and Van Gough and a host of others so museums abound. Amsterdam was once the largest, most important port in the world. Money, product and people flowed to and from its shores leaving it touched by the best the world knew , some of which remains. I’ve seen some, wanna see more, will tell all...