The Netherlands and Italy. Jeez

typical Amsterdam street

I can’t imagine two cultures more diametrically opposed in the way they handle life. The Dutch are organized, clean, polite and very friendly in a formal way. Everyone looked healthy and prosperous. Ninety percent spoke English with an American accent. I never saw one beggar. Everything was right on schedule. Even the gentrifying neighborhood I slept in was clean and unthreatening. The weather was pleasant and cool, around 65 degrees at the high, and the sky often gray. And when my pocket was picked, it was in the Dutch manner—unobtrusive, quiet, elegant and thorough.

The "chicken-tickle" mosaic from Pompeii

Italians are laid-back, always a little later than scheduled (though everyone is held to the same loose strictures). The trains were mostly on time (I believe Mussolini had something to do with that). Helpful, yes, and very informal (I met Maria, one of my pedicureists on the street having a cigarette; she proceeded to tell me about her home and two young children). In Sorrento and other Amalfi coast cities, I got by easily with a mix of pidgin Italian and gesture—the result of plenty of English tourists. In Naples, it was a lot more difficult. Italy was mostly sunny, 75 degrees or more during the day. No pocket-picking, messy Italian style or any other way. The only poor I saw in Sorrento were foreigners, looking for work—and that was true of Naples, too—but Naples was in a bad way, and it was evident.

In spite of the Metrocart incident, I had to come home to really get robbed: a gift card I had set down with my purse and shopping bag next to me on the floor was stolen in my local CVS pharmacy. Interesting that the two most prosperous places I’ve been in lately—Amsterdam and Marin County—are the two places that host theives. I suppose Willie Sutton’s statement still holds true. When he was asked why he robbed banks, he replied, “That’s where the money is.”

See more images of Sorrento, Pompeii and Herculaneum on my website gallery page

Next: Southern Spain in July...

Thursday, May 16 – Leiden, Netherlands

View of Leiden from my room at the Ibis Hotel

I flew back to the Amsterdam airport and got my luggage out of storage (bloody expensive, but worth it), then proceeded by train to the university town 20 minutes south of the airport: Leiden. I only wish it wasn’t cold and raining, as Leiden looks like an interesting place to explore, and may be a better base than Amsterdam. I stayed at a large and very corporate hotel, the Ibis—nice, simple and very clean room, with an incredible view of the town. I walked around in spite of the blustery weather; Netherlanders have perfected the art of riding a bicycle while holding an umbrella. Soaking wet, I passed up a Swedish place with fish dishes, and a pannekokken specialty restaurant to opt for a hole-in-the-wall place called Hot Wok. I had gone too many days without Chinese food; in this place, you chose your dish and the chef cooked it for you right there. It was heavenly.

See more images of Amsterdam and Italy on my website gallery page

Amsterdam Friday May 10 - Rijksmuseum

Rijksmuseum exterior

Stood in the freezing, windy line for the Rijksmuseum at 8:20AM this morning--waited until 9:20 to enter. Magnificent building, but the collection wasn't impressive. A few Vermeers, Rembrandts--the famous “Night Watch”--but altogether the offerings seemed sparse and the rooms very crowded. The high point of my visit was in the overpriced cafe where I sat across from two friends, one Dutch and one Brit, with whom I enjoyed a lively conversation. I learned the correct pronounciation of tot suis (essentially, “see you later”), but don’t ask--its not pronounced like its spelled. It seems the Amsterdam tourism bureau is doing a better job than the museums deserve. It makes me appreciate San Francisco all the more--we have some excellent works from all periods.

My favorite painting in the Rijksmuseum

After being clued in to the transit realities (she can be taught!), I hopped back on the #10 tram to Fredericksplein and walked a few blocks south to the Albert de Cuyp street market. Right away, I scored a universal adaptor for 5 euro that works here with the fat Dutch plugs. It was fun to walk around and check things out. The shoes were plastic--fake suede, horrible--and the scarves, clothing and material were all of the cheapest polyester. Netherland is not a fashion capital, that's for sure. Had my third herring sandwich, bones and all--I think I'm done with herring for a while. The fish at the marketstall was bright-eyed and firm-fleshed, and the produce looked strong and healthy too--a good place to cook your own.

Fish stall, de Cuyp market

I took the tram to Weesperplein and caught the Metro to Waterlooplein. I don't know what it is about this place, but I always get turned around. A couple of German tourists helped me out with their map and got me going in the right direction. I finaly found the bloody Rembrandthuis. I was shocked to see that I had walked right past it the day before without even noticing. It’s right down the street from the dreadful Argentenian restaurant with the privy soup-water. I did the short tour; my feet were killing me after days of abuse. Rembrandt evidently bought high, and the place bankrupted him; his financial woes were partly brought on by a mistress miffed that their years-long domestic arrangement didn't end in marriage. Serves him right, the old lech--he traded her in for a younger model. The most interesting part of the house was his collection room, filled with statuary and various specimens, reproduced exactly from the records used when the house was auctioned off.

Rembrandt looks somewhat confused in this early self-portrait

Made my way back to the metro courtesy of a very strong cup of coffee, and spent the trip back talking to four young, adorable christian evangelists. They did ask me if I knew god, and I told them we had met many times.

There was a market going on outside A’damsepoort, the shopping area next to the Hostelle--smaller scale, same junk, and a lot of paler faces rushing back from work and those silent office buildings. On the way back, I picked up a chicken leg and roast veges for dinner (excellent value --less than 5 euro, and really good quality)  at the deli next to Bakker Bart, where I picked up my morning sausage roll.

Tomorrow, I prep for Naples. 70 degrees and raining. How am I going to do this?

Bike lanes and bike parking lots--you gotta love this!

To see more of Amsterdam, go to the travel image page on my website: aboutjoannemiller.com

Amsterdam, Thurs. May 9 – Van Gogh Go

For more of Vincent's work (we ARE on a first-name basis),
see my travel website images: aboutJoanneMiller.com

“Avoid the lines, purchase your ticket in advance” just isn’t true. I had a 9AM ticket entry (the first of the day), and I waited outside with 200 other people for more than 30 minutes. Then we were all admitted at once. Initially, it was really difficult to get near any of the paintings because there were so many people, but the way the new modern museum is laid out on several floors, visitors spread out in a few minutes.

I realized it’s not just the extraordinary colors and unique brushwork that draw me to Van Gogh (which the Dutch pronounce van hockh)—I actually had a crush on him, based on his many self-portraits. If I had met him in my younger days, I probably would have fallen for his intensity and manic energy and excused away the depression and pyschotic episodes as artistic temperment. One thing for sure: painting was his life. It’s sad that it enriches us, but made him a wandering pauper during his brief life. I wonder what he would think nowadays, as his face and work have become a brand to sell T-shirts and mouse pads. He’d probably cut off the other ear.

One of Vincent's experiment with pointillism

I planned to go to the Rijksmuseum in the afternoon, but even with my prepaid ticket, it was a three-hour wait (yes, three hours). I didn’t find out until later that May 9 is Ascension Day, a national holiday; locals and tourists were all vying for a spot. The city’s most famous museums surround a three-block long plaza called Museumplein (pronounced museum plane—Dutch translates fairly easily); a massive lunch place on Museumplein was full of merry, beer-swilling tourists. 

The Museumplein's block-long fountain

I opted instead for a hearty sandwich at a nearby cafe recomended to me by one of the museum guides: Vrolyk, on the corner of Hobbesmustraat and the canal, just down the street from the Rijksmuseum.

After lunch, I wandered around in circles, thinking I was moving towards the de Cuyp market in the section of town called di Pijp, and discovered that I ended up back at the Rijksmuseum at 2:15. The wait had dwindled to one hour. I decided to try again on Friday morning, since my ticket wasn’t for a particular time. I had bought a 48-hour chipkaart for the metro, which enabled me to ride anywhere on Metro transportation during that time period at no extra charge—a really good deal for $17.

Buildings near my hostel

                                                                                The architecture of Amsterdam is modern, creative, innovative. Of course, so much of the city suffered bombing in WWII that it rose almost from whole cloth in many areas. The layout is in a series of semi-circular canals fanning out from Central Station; I don’t think I’ve ever had so many opportunities to get lost.

Main Library interior

                                                                                It was too late to visit Rembrandt’s home, so I rode up to Cental Station and saw the incredible main library with a citywide view from the restaurant on the top floor. Then I wandered down to Waterlooplein, the old Jewish neighborhood, and walked around ...the streets were very crowded and the shops were interesting—a bit of hippie flair here and there, a hand-made candy shop, a few second-hand stores, and a few “coffee shops”—no, I didn’t sample the merchandise. I was already lost in Amsterdam. Not only is marijuana legal here, there were a wallful of herbal “trips”—legal chemical mixtures that mimic LSD, MDMA, and a lot of things that didn’t exist in my experimental days.

View from the top floor of the library

As I prepared to enter the Metro station, I realized my Metro chipkaart was gone right out of my pocket where I had put it when I began walking to the station. Fortunately, that was the only thing IN my pocket. I remembered getting bumped by a short man on one of the busy streets. Or, it could have fallen out when I was reaching for my camera, or when I went to the bathroom, but  I think I would have noticed...still, it was gone and I was upset, attached to the insignificant money value--about $7 left on the card—but really mad at myself for being careless. 

I ended up getting lost again, ate a a truly terrible Argentinian restauant (out of fish soup, she offered chicken soup of a sort...almost all broth and teensy pieces of chicken with tortilas).

I walked back to Central Station and bought a new 25-hour card that expired 7:30 Friday night. When I told the policeman at the station my pocket had been picked, he made a wry face, especially when I demonstrated the bumping part. He hears this all the time. I usually pride myself on how careful I am with things I don’t want to lose, and wouldn’t have even had the card in my pocket normally. Its a lession learned, pretty cheaply.

For more of Vincent's extraordinary work, see my travel website images: aboutJoanneMiller.com

Staying with the Girls

Contemporary artwork on the Hostelle room wall

I opted for an all-female hostel (yes, they actually did say “girls only”) called “Hostelle”, clinging to the southeast edge of Amsterdam. One reason I chose it was the direct train stop from the airport that landed me five minutes from the facility. On the plus side, it's clean, safe, inexpensive (around $35/night) in a very expensive city, and non-party oriented. Most of the clientele were women in their 20s and 30s, but all ages are welcome. Visitors can choose the amount of interaction they feel comfortable with. 

A kitchen was available, and the bathrooms and shower rooms were shared by many, though all were kept very clean. Ear plugs and a sleep mask came in handy when two women in our four-bed room opted for the local nightlife and usually came in after my Taiwanese roommate (on holiday from studying in Innsbruck, Austria) and I had already bedded down. 


On the minus side, it's a considerable distance from the attractions of town (you will have to take the Metro into Amsterdam)—and a new, wrapped wooden comb I accidently left on the kitchen counter “disappeared”. The Hostelle is in an odd place--surrounded by two-to-five-story 1970s-era business buildings and their workers by day, and a gentrifying Dutch-African neighborhood nights and weekends. Amsterdam has a massively mixed population, no surprise considering the once-great sea power and colonization. Where the heck is Suriname anyway? A supermarket and several cafes and restaurants were close by. For a cheap stay, it was hard to beat. 

The Plaza near the Hostelle featured some interesting architecture

Herring is your Friend

I ate so much herring in Amsterdam that I won’t be able to approach small fish for some time. 

Herring is everywhere, and my preferred style was to have the bony little guys tucked into soft white bread, sprinkled with chopped onions and pickles (you can get it without the bread, stuffed with onions and pickles, lowered into the mouth from overhead--but that was a little more Dutch than I could handle).

Netherlanders also have a way with baked goods; the breakfast pastries were uniformly great, and there’s a “sausage roll” I became addicted to (when I got back from Italy, it was the first thing I went for): it’s either a round sausage or sausage meat inside a wrapping of flaky puff pastry. It makes Philadelphia’s cheesesteak look positively healthy, and leaves your hands and face glowing with spicy grease.

A great cup of coffee is everywhere in the Netherlands; Dutch  sea trade in the 17th century imported and popularized the drink, and one of the first customers was Lloyds of London when it was a cafe, before Lloyds got into the much more lucrative insurance business.

Asian food here refers to Indonesian or Thai—I found myself longing for good old-fashioned Chinese. I wasn’t able to find a single Chinese restaurant until my last day in the university town of Leiden (and it was excellent).

Amsterdam Weds. May 8 - the Amazing Keukenhof Gardens

Another view of Keukenhof Gardens

In order to stay awake and make the best use of my time, I arrived at the airport and, after a breakfast of an awesome caramel cookie and a soggy undercooked piece of apple cake with good coffee, planned to go directly to Keukenhof Gardens. I’m still a little amazed that the incredibly busy Amsterdam Airport actually has luggage storage in these days of terrorism, but was plenty grateful to not have to lug around my suitcase and backpack. I struggled with the baggage lockers for half an hour before I figured out that American credit cards don’t always come with a pin code—mine didn’t (though it’s possible to get one), and the baggage lockers don't operate on cash. So I ended up walking to the opposite end of the airport to take my luggage to a physical luggage check in the basement. Seven euros (about $9) for 24 hours—it beats rotator cuff injuries any day.

More Keukenhof eye candy

The Dutch are so friendly and eager to help a stranger--EVERYONE went out of their way, up to and including the nice man who showed me how to work the rather confusing ticket system for the train and Metro, explaining, “I understand you, but I don’t speak much English”. I learned pretty quickly that there are the trains—like the one that runs from the airport to other cities and the outskirts of Amsterdam—and the Metro system, that includes the subway system, trams and buses, and functions inside the city and its suburbs. Tickets will work for one or the other, but not both. I had pre-bought a ticket to Keukenhof Gardens and that included a bus from the airport. The gardens are only open from mid-April to May 20 each year.

Keukenhof was grand; it may be the most outstanding formal planting I’ve ever seen. The garden area itself covers many acres, well-kept (not one dead flower—not ONE—in literally millions of blooms). The color combinations, the multiple garden “rooms” with different types of tulips intermixed, fountains, and an outstanding orchid house were superb; themes included a Japanse garden, windmill, and a display honoring British gardens that was in the process of being built, among others. 

In the Orchid House

Keukenhof exceeded my expectations; I wandered around for four hours and revisited my favorites—a fantastic must-see for those who love gardens, and of course, tulips.

And of course, I had a herring sandwich for lunch in the excellent little cafe there.

To be overwhelmed by color, tulips, and the ingenuity of the Dutch, go to the album "Keukenhof" on my Pinterest page, here. I will upload a video (featuring Keukenhof's working windmill and player organ) in June.

I hoped to see flower fields, and they were visible from the upper level of the windmill, across a small canal: row upon row of glowing red, yellow, white and purple under the calm grey sky.

See more pics of the Keukenhof gardens on my travel website gallery page: aboutJoanneMiller.com

Walking on water? Nope - a clever water feature: 

Less than an inch below the surface, these "lily pads" allow visitors to follow a path through the pond