I had been to Amsterdam once before in 1984, when I was just a twenty-one year old lad traveling Europe by myself for the first time. I think I was there for three or four days, but I have almost no memories of the experience. I have a few grainy snapshots: me in front of a night club, on a bicycle on a bridge, standing next to a working girl in the Red Light District. But that's about it. Obviously, it was time for me to return. Surprisingly, my well traveled husband had never set foot in this city, even though he had always wanted to. We received an email from our San Franciscan friends Jeff and Steve, that they were going to be in Amsterdam for a few days, and did anyone want to join them? And as you know by now, we rarely turn down an opportunity to travel.

 

In 1984 I had to take a train from London to the coast in order to take a ferry from Dover to Belgium, and then take another train up to Amsterdam. This time, we took a forty-five minute flight. While we were flying over the Netherlands I realized where the country gets its name: Nether means "Low", literally, The Low Lands. This is the world's flattest country, and over half of its landmass has been reclaimed from the sea. And on another literal note: Amsterdam got its name from the place where they built a dam over the River Amstel. And before we go any further, I must clarify a few other things: Holland is a large part of the Netherlands and the two names are both used to describe this country. The language spoken here is Dutch, and people and products from the region are also referred to as Dutch. Everybody clear? Then we'll proceed.

 

We arrived at Schipol, the very modern airport outside the city and quickly boarded a double-decker train into Central Station. Those few cloudy memories from my 1984 visit recalled that the city was quite dirty, and the canals were polluted. I am very happy to report that Old Amsterdam has cleaned up her act, and the city was positively sparkling in the brilliant sunshine. Freddie and I both felt the travelers rush of arriving in a beautiful new city, ready to go exploring. The best way to do this on foot or by bicycle, as the locals do. Cars are simply impractical for these little cobbled streets: one wrong move and your car is nose down in a canal. (I'm told this happens several times a month).

 

We walked through town at a slow pace towards our hotel. We stopped on many of the little bridges (there are 1,281 of them!) to take photos of the idiosyncratic architecture, lined up, skinny and tall along the canals. All of Amsterdam was reclaimed from the swamps, and every building is built on stilts that are drilled forty five-feet into the firm ground below. The old houses have all settled at different angles, and some of them lean so heavily it looks like they will collapse at any moment. With their odd slants, gabled roofs and eclectic colors, they beg to be admired and photographed. 

 

Our hotel, simply called Park Hotel was on the outer ring of one of the main canals and was located (you guessed it), next to the city's main park. Vondel Park is forty seven acres of manicured gardens and lakes, with sweet little cafes and terraces. Park Hotel was chic and sleek, well priced and well located. Happy days. With the bags in our room, we went out to meet up with Jeff and Steve for lunch.

 

One of the great joys of life is being reunited with good friends. And doing that in a quaint cafe in a beautiful old city, drinking good beer in the sunshine, just doesn't get any better. We sipped our beers, got caught up on each other's lives, and sampled Hollands signature dish: bitterballen. These are yummy little meat brochettes battered and fried, and served with mustard. So good with beer! The four of us then strolled back into the center to Dam Square, or just The Dam as the locals call it. This grand square is surrounded by an architectural parade of interesting buildings and is the meeting place for hordes of tourists and locals alike. The arches of the canals branch out like spider's legs from this central spot making it a great place to begin exploring. 

 

After a couple of hours of crossing bridges, and people watching we decided it was time to sample one of the famous "coffee houses". While coffee is certainly on offer in these establishments, the big appeal is not for caffeine, but for high grade cannabis. This is perfectly legal in the Netherlands, and it was obvious from the thousands of stringy haired tourists that weed is a very big reason to visit this place. The coffee house we chose was called The Green Room, and it was full of wide eyed youths blowing sweet pungent mouthfuls of smoke. We sat at a table and ordered four espressos and an eighth of an ounce of Special Skunk. Freddie rolled us a spliff while I observed the three boys next to us inhale a whole joint each. The four of us shared just one, and we were high as kites for six hours! Afterwards we walked the streets with a distinctly different slant, marveling at the sunshine glinting off the canals. It seemed that everyone was smiling at us, and that the whole town was off its trolley.

We came across Homo Square where a huge pink marble triangle is a meeting place for the local extroverts. Boy, those colors were bright! After a few hours of exploring with our dopey grins, we went back to our hotels to ready ourselves for dinner. Jeff had scoped a charming little restaurant with heavy wooden tables overlooking a pretty little canal. It was Dutch cuisine ala stroganoffs, fish dishes and sweet wine. No surprise that in our state of mind it all tasted incredibly delicious.

 

The next day we left Jeff and Steve to sleep off their pot heads and jet lag, and went out early to visit the Van Gogh Museum. Two hundred paintings of Holland's most famous son are on display in a huge, airy modern building. The instantly recognizable works are all here: "Sunflowers" "Vincents Bedroom" and several of his intriguing self portraits.

 

Later we joined Jeff and Steve and headed to another famous museum, the Anne Frank House. This museum tells the tragic story of the Frank family who went into hiding at the back of this house when the Nazis began rounding up Jews in Amsterdam in 1942. For twenty-five months the family of eight hid in a secret annex behind a bookshelf, and thirteen year old Anne kept a diary of their struggle. In 1944 they were betrayed and deported to a concentration camp. All were killed except Otto Frank, who published his daughters diary two years later. The Diary of Anne Frank has since been published in sixty five languages and is one of the 20th Century's most important literary works. The original plaid diary is on display here, and we were able to walk through the secret annex and see the rooms in which they hid. It's a moving experience, and indeed some of the visitors were in tears. After that, we needed to lighten the mood and the four of us ended up at another charming canal side cafe drinking Grolsh and eating bitterballen.

 

A stroll though the Red Light District is a must for any visitor. The prostitutes stand and model in lingerie in their red lit windows. They are all licensed with the government and pay their taxes just like everyone else. This business all seems quite camp and silly to the casual observer, and certainly not seedy. Taking photos is discouraged, so we just smiled and nodded as we walked by the winking painted ladies, and headed over to the gay bars. Once upon a time the liberal attitudes of the Dutch made Amsterdam a gay Mecca. But now it just feels relaxed and welcoming as the lines between homo and hetero have been permanently blurred. And that is, of course, how it should be.

 

The next day the four of us set off early to see the Rijksmuseum, the magnificent national museum of the Netherlands, home to seven million works of art. It opened in 1885 and is currently undergoing restoration, but the highlights are still on display. The Dutch masters are all here, from Vermeer to Rembrandt, and there is a fabulous wing on the history of Amsterdam and the building of the canals. Freddie lost himself in the maps and historical documents, as he is Belgian and shares common ancestry with the Dutch.

 

In the evening we took a canal cruise as the sun was going down and the bridges were lighting up. The flat glass boat cruised in semi-circles along the three main canals and then out through the harbor and busy port. The canals are without doubt Amsterdams defining characteristic. They were devised in the 17th Century to cope with the rapid rise in population when Amsterdam had become the center of the huge, wealthy Dutch Empire. The costly plan cut three main canals to drain the land, and then linked them with dozens of smaller ones. These provided transport for the riches that came into the most important trading center of its time. Today they are mostly used for tourist boats and pleasure seekers. It is perfectly delightful to cruise along the canals, sipping wine and imagining the cities glorious past.

 

Before heading back to the airport we stocked up on a few wheels of Dutch cheese and a bag of tulip bulbs. I don't usually go in for the tourist tat, but there is something so appealing about Amsterdam that I felt I wanted to bring a little piece of if back with us to London. The city is so unique, effortlessly blending the modern and the historic, relaxed and vibrant, elegant and naughty. You can DO IT all in this fair city. And as the old song finishes... Let's do it, let's fall in love!