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I always have a small ritual when I get off the train in big, bold Amsterdam. Look over your shoulder at the city’s seal lions atop Amsterdam Central Station. It seems like he’s yelling, “Try it!”
One side of the station faces the port. From there, buses come and go, free shuttle ferries are crowded with bikers, and across the water, the Amsterdam Noord district is awash with construction, fertilized by a new commuter train that tunnels beneath the surface and connects it to downtown. It’s crowded. And on the city side of the station, streetcars come and go, children pedal to school as if they were in a small town, and two sets of police officers add stress to the laid-back scene.
From here, overlook Damrak, the main thoroughfare that funnels tourists past the cheers of commercial neon lights to Dam Square, Amsterdam’s main square. It was always like this. After all, long before there was a train station, the Amstel River passed through the city here, following the route of today’s bus- and bicycle-filled Damrak.
During the Dutch Golden Age in the 17th century, Amsterdam was a fortified marina, home to 30,000 people (mostly merchants) and welcoming ships laden with goods from all corners of the trading world. They entered the town from where the railway station is today and marched like pirates with their plunder to the town’s commercial altar, the customs and weighhouse next to the town hall on Dam Square. We anchored and unloaded our luggage.
Dutch trade still takes place today, but in different ports. He is one of the world’s largest ports near Rotterdam. The Dutch say the money is earned in Rotterdam (where shirts are already sold with the sleeves rolled up), distributed in The Hague (a nearby city where the government is located), and spent in Amsterdam. claims.
First-time tourists leaving the station carry with them a predictable checklist of sights. The Anne Frank House is on the right, the Red Light District is on the left, and Damrak passes through the middle as he heads towards the two large museums. Filled with works by Van Gogh and Rembrandt, the Van Gogh Museum and Rijksmuseum sit like cultural bulldogs on opposite sides of the city.
But I feel that Amsterdam’s unpredictable streetscapes, crude one moment and charming the next, are at least as valuable as the city’s great museums. I follow the crowd down Damrak. Today, Damrak is as traditional Dutch as the rooster dance. This street is packed with tourist shops that seem to cover all the Dutch clichés. We pass wooden shoes, which the Dutch wore to move easily through the wetlands, and tulips of all kinds. The real thing comes from the famous Dutch flower industry. The Heineken refrigerator magnet promotes his one of the world’s most popular pilsner beers. There are cheese wheels, marijuana leaf hats, Ajax football (soccer) club team jerseys, and memorabilia with the city’s “XXX” logo.
Past the gimmicky torture museum and funky “coffee shop” (serving coffee, tea, and cannabis), the sound of an old-fashioned barrel organ brings traditional Amsterdam back to life. It’s a relationship between two people. While the old man works on the crowd, the boss spins the wheel behind him, playing the tunes typed into the scroll like bullets into a musical machine gun.
The Street Organ is like a mini-carnival, painted in candy-colored pastels and lined with lively puppets. Bearded ballerinas twitch and ring bells, and Cracker Jack boys slam silver dollar-sized cymbals. Playing coin maracas and wearing a carved smile, the old man looks like an ornament that has just been brought to life. As shoppers amble along, two tourists begin to dance a cheerful waltz. Another woman takes a photo of her holding a day bag between her knees.
At a nearby kiosk, I picked up a cone of Flemish fries. It has mayonnaise on it, and in Flanders they use more mayonnaise than ketchup. I keep walking, warming a cone of salty fries in my hands. In total, Amsterdam has more than 1,200 bridges connected by cobbled lanes across nearly 90 miles of quiet green canals. Houses are crowded together for views of the canal. When the foundations of the piles rot or sink, they lean against each other and look as if someone stole the crutches.
Amsterdam’s delightful mix of modernity and faded elegance is best enjoyed by those who get out and explore on foot (ideally with Flemish fries) or by bike. Once you’ve had your fill, stop to watch the sunset and watch the Golden Age reflected in the tranquil canals.
Edmonds resident Rick Steves (www.ricksteves.com) writes European guidebooks, hosts travel shows on public television and radio, and organizes European tours. This column revisits some of Rick’s favorite places from the past 20 years. You can email Rick at rick@ricksteves.com or follow his blog on Facebook.
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