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POSTCARD FROM AMSTERDAM
Heady mix
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Amsterdam tastes of old world grandeur and new age funk, nonchalantly combining the sublime and the ridiculous.
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Amsterdam is fairy tale-ish, making you move back and forth in time.
PHOTO: MITA KAPUR
QUIET WATERS: Looks very normal, doesn't it?
"YOU know, the funny scene about Europe is....they have the same sh*** as us but it's the little differences...you can walk into a movie theatre in Amsterdam and buy a beer....not in a paper cup but a glass...you know what they put on French fries instead of ketchup — mayonnaise...and hash. It's legal to buy it, it's legal to own it, sell it in a hash bar, carry it and you know, it's illegal for a cop to search you?" is John Travolta's opening dialogue in Tarantino's "Pulp Fiction". Amsterdam "pulped" into beer mugs, paper cones and "legal" hash. No small wonder then when the Dutch say, "be normal, that's crazy enough!"
Clusters of narrow, gabled buildings with dates like 1541 and 1603, the smell of water in the canals mixed with tar and tulips, the soothing sound of cycle tyres, Amsterdam is fairy tale-ish, making you move back and forth in time. A fishing village in the 13th century, Amsterdam grew into a "people's capital". My first reaction as I walked to the hyper-kinetic Dam Square was "this place is on a 24x7 party". The War Memorial is built on sand got from all the provinces in Holland. The Royal Palace is used for ceremonial occasions when Queen Beatrix is visiting. It's an architectural beauty. We walked into the Jordan quarter, narrow streets, eclectic shop fronts, cafes and the relentless buzz was infectious. The Oude Kirk, (old church), a mammoth structure built in 1306 with three naves, towers, chapels stands conveniently in the middle of the red light district.
Paradise, of sorts
We stayed "thirty feet away from the red light district". Amsterdam is a voyeur's paradise. It is an-in-your-face experience to pass by windows which have the "ladies" mannequined in fluorescent lingerie, black garters, throwing an occasional wink, pouting their lips at the passing "gawker". I got talking to one, wanting to interview her. The rate "per hour" was steep. I conversed in Hindi with my companion. The voluptuous lady caught on and replied, "nahin, bahut mehnga nahin hai". She was an Indian, her streaked hair and heavily made up face concealed her national identity. "In that one hour while you interview me, I'll give you a good time too," she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. Thanks but no thanks, I laughed and walked away. The Sensi Seed Bank nestled on this street threw up a host of "dopey" facts. The guy there practically adopted us, answering all my queries on the different effects of different drugs. "More people die of smoking cigarettes," he said.
Amsterdam was the art, culture, trade capital, during the 17th century, after which the power of the Orange monarchy waned. An on-foot tour is the best way to get to the pulse of the city. The sun was elusive, the breeze cold but we trudged on. Our "walking" guide, a friendly Dutch lady, made us cross the canals that have a romanticism that spells serenity in one way, intimacy in another. The three main canals, Prinsengracht, Keizersgracht, Hirengracht, each have a character of their own. If one is all about majestic royalty, the other is a "gentlemen's" canal, the third has a crowded coffee bar culture thriving.
Amsterdam has its immortal stars. Anne Frank, Van Gogh, Rembrandt. The Anne Frank Museum is a place of pilgrimage. I recalled a documentary, "Secret Lives", made on Jewish kids who were hidden to escape Nazi terror. Ed Van Thijn, former Mayor of Amsterdam, was eight years old when the Germans came. He hid in 18 different places.
I could have spent hours (but for the impatience of my brood) at the Van Gogh Museum, taking in the dark, morbid colours of the "Potato Eaters" to the brighter strokes in Van Gogh's evolution as an artist under Impressionist influence. Amsterdam is celebrating 400 years of Rembrandt this year. The Rijks museum showing the famous "Night Watch" with an audio-visual show reveals the mindset of that age. Paintings by Jan Stern, Vermeer, Frans Hals dare you to imagine how much they would have learnt from Rembrandt.
Tour of the past
A 20-minute train ride got us to Zaan dam, a quaint 19th century village. It has preserved homes and windmills in an open air museum. We stepped into bursts of wild flowers, a warm aroma of cocoa from the cocoa making factory, the sink-into-the-mouth cream puffs at the charming local bakery, into the quietitude of the waters of Zaan river flowing, past green roofs, weeping willows bending to tease the stream, enormous blades of wind mills moving the runner stones, crushing peanuts on stone pans below as a part of the process of letting the oil ooze out. Going back to 1676, De Zocker has weathered many a wind of change. Cheese, its odours and the final overpowering tastes and a live show of how wooden clogs are made. We tried them all — the cheese and the shoes. The cheese won — obviously. Coming back to lull ourselves on a cruise, the gables on each building had a story to tell. We skipped the diamond factory tour as a boring prospect. Happens, if the pocket doesn't allow indulgence in sparkles and glitter.
Leidspelein, the square which rocks at night is the place to be. Pubs overflowed with people and beer. Low ceilings, burnt wood panels, voices and laughter, you're asked whether you'd like your beer, "black, blonde or red ?" The energy thrusts itself cheerfully. We laughed our evening away at the Boom Chicago comedy show. The Amsterdam casino is worth a visit but I was snobbishly intolerant with its lack of the "Vegas jingle". We ate through the Pancake factory into their patisseries with those crisp chocolate croissants, still warm from the oven, apple turnovers, blue berry tarts. The cafes and eateries lining this square have food to die for. Be ready to come back a few pounds heavier, that is if you feed like an infant every one hour. No amount of walking or cycling through Amsterdam can save you.
The city is a dreamy fast-lane town. With 73, 493 people, 5,50,000 bikes, 160 canals, 1200 bridges and double the amount of tourists thronging, it tastes of old world grandeur, new age funk, nonchalantly combines the sacred and the profane, sublime and the ridiculous, the body and the soul. One small peeve — we missed the tulips. Another time, maybe.
MITA KAPUR
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