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Postcard from Amsterdam: B's Observations
Contributed by B

As the train pulled into Central Station Amsterdam, A chorus of strong, young and eager voices broke out into Steppenwolf’s "Born to be Wild". We walked from the station with our overnight bags. We were arriving from Venice, a wonderful canal filled Italian city that had temporarily lured us from Amsterdam. It was only a few days since we’d boarded the train to Italy and we were happy to be winding our way around the old ornate station building to our favorite Central Station area coffee shop, Funny People.

The room is decorated with old pictures and new paintings of the Marx brothers, Laurel and Hardy, Sid Caesar, and many familiar funny faces. There are comfortable tables and chairs. We set up their chessboard and played a game as we watched customers choose hash or marijuana from the menu that was lit up on a small bar. One look at the menu reminded us why it is so difficult to leave this non-judgmental aura the very epitome of democracy. It is a place where the well-dressed businessman will stop to shake hands with the person who is cleaning the street and both wish each other a good day, and where adults are permitted to smoke the vegetation of their choice. The menu listed the wares for those who chose to smoke marijuana or hashish. There were products from Morocco, Afghanistan, Napal, and Holland to name just a few. We finished our game and decided to head back to our home in Holland.

We had to walk back to Central station and catch the five or two seven or twenty bus to the Leidseplein. Once on the plein we of course had to stop at the “Bull,” our name for the largest Bull Dog cafe of which there are many--but the Bull Dog at the Leidseplein is the most fun. There are chairs and tables outside and inside. If you go down the stairs you find a counter where Jon sells a variety of types of grass and hash. If people choose to smoke inside, they can go into the “jail” a tiny room with bars on the windows to suggest a jail. There you sit on wooden benches listening to the latest “lounge music” which is a non-repetitious, usually instrumental, rhythmic sound that is interesting and very easy to listen to.

At the outdoor café you can buy a beer or coffee for €2.50 and watch the most amazing acts in the square that also serves as a bus station. Thinking our rooms may not be ready for us yet, we had a beer and watched wide eyed at the unicyclist juggling flaming batons and running chain saws. Then we saw the man with crystal balls that he can run up and down his entire body as though they were glued to him. His grace and control is beautiful. At the same time various musicians were accompanying the scene. The violinists play Vivaldi, a man with an elaborate set of bottles filled with different amounts of various colored water played melodies from Mozart. There are some unusual groupings. For example, a saxophone player will play a duet with an accordion player. My guess is that they met as single street musicians and decided to try a duo to see if it might bring in more money for both of them. In other words a partnership. We believe in giving to the street musicians, as they deserve to be paid for embellishing the streets of Amsterdam. We don’t want to lose them and a small amount of money from everyone who enjoys their tunes will ensure their continued presence.

On our way back to our hotel we stopped for a while to enjoy one of our favorite pastimes. An enormous chessboard is embedded into the pavement at the Hard Rock Café square. The men are about three feet high and the squares are three feet by three feet. We root for our favorites. There’s Elie dressed in silk embroidered finery who almost always wins. Then there is the gentleman I imagine from Austria perhaps a retired psychoanalyst that may have played chess with Sigmund Freud or at least his father may have. When these two are playing each other or anyone else the crowd grows thick.

The rain came down hard when we crossed the street from the square and remembering how cold and rainy it can be in Holland in the middle of July; we ran into the nearest store that sold coats of any kind. We really got lucky, for we found the perfect garment for Dutch weather. Fjall Raven is the brand of this all-weather coat. We can only compare it to a wearable tent because it protected us from rain, wind, and cold. We were able to enjoy the city and walk for miles in any of those conditions and be perfectly comfortable. We walked through Vondel Park to our hotel.

“Your room is ready,” Randy smiled as we walked into the lobby of the Holland Hotel. “You didn’t like Venice?” he asked. “We loved it but we got homesick for Amsterdam” Randy understood. He knew many Americans who finally made Amsterdam their home, never to cross the pond the again.

Our room was large and had big windows overlooking Vondel Park By the time we emerged the rain had stopped it was eleven p.m. and it was still light. It says light till after eleven and daybreak is at four a.m.

The next day we visited Rembrandt's House, which is located between the Rembrandts Plein and Waterloo Plein. The house was built in the early sixteen hundreds. It is four stories high and made of dark brick with bright green shutters and front door. There we saw many of the original plates he used for his etchings. We learned that he was an art dealer as well as an artist the showroom exhibited different artists works that he chose to display for sale. There were windows in every room that looked over the main courtyard and some overlooked the main entrance so visitors could be seen before they were admitted. Many of his possessions were on display. His collections were varied He had two globes one terrestrial and one celestial. Perhaps the celestial globe was from Galileo himself, smuggled from Italy where they were outlawed to Holland where they were not. He had old stone arrow points and old spears, many objects d’art--lots of them were from Africa.

The kitchen was large with a bright green floor made of shiny thick tiles. It seems a huge fight took place in this very kitchen. It was reported that a mistress he wanted to get rid of became "unnecessarily violent".

Across the street from Rembrandt's house is an old tavern built several years after Rembrandt had to give up his home due to poor finances. Although he may have moved out of the neighborhood we wondered whether he ever went to the very bar we were at and had a drink or a meal.

As we sat on the deck of the old tavern drinking beer and gorging on ham and cheese sandwiches as only the Dutch can produce, we watched the Gay Day Parade. This parade takes place on canals through out Amsterdam. Colorful boats floated by masted with huge long balloons in many colors. Even more colorful were the boatmen wearing wigs in outlandish styles and dyes. The passengers were dancing to the tunes of Aretha, Bette, Barbara, Tina and others. The onlookers joined in dancing and singing the same songs.

Towards the end of our trip we visited the Huis Marseille; this is Amsterdam’s foundation for photography. The photos were different then any we’d seen before. Some were gigantic and many made poignant social statements. There was a series on the life of street children throughout the world. There was a series on an asylum in it’s best light. This asylum was made to look warm and inviting by the light and colors the photographer chose to use for this unusual project. There was an astounding picture of the moon landing that took up an entire wall. There was an arial shot of a dance hall in Barcelona with hundreds of couples dancing and each figure was clear and stood out individually. The exhibits change periodically at the Huis Marseille and I can’t wait to see their next collection.

Of course our trip had to come to an end. Although we had been there for five weeks we were sad. Amsterdam is a difficult place to leave. Our only solace was to say to our friend Mike, an American who vowed to never leave Holland, on August seventh, our last night, "See you in July."

He replied "Right" as he inhaled, "On" as he exhaled, then took another toke.

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