Catching the Spirit

May 1

I’m getting bolder and have a knee to show for it.

I spent the afternoon biking the area south of Centrum. Part of the time, I was off my map. And I found my way back.

I stopped first at Bush Docter for a space cake and espresso. I followed Reguliersgracht south and then picked my way across Singelgracht into De Pijp. This is a newer part of the city anchored by the Heineken Experience, a former brewery converted into a museum and amusement park. According to one review online, you should get drunk before going there. Among the attractions is a 3-D film of a man bathing in Heineken beer.

I was up and down streets, some of them familiar, others not. I ran into Sarphati Park again.

It’s near the Albert Cuyp street market. I had walked the bike through there on Monday so this time I circumvented it. It’s not the Temple Street Market in Kowloon, but it is kind of colorful. But I wasn’t looking to buy anything, and there is no performance from the opera.

The neighborhood does have some charming, well-kept streets.

I headed back toward the hotel around 4 for a nap. I hadn’t had any beer, but the space cake and this congestion were tiring me out. 

I forget where I was, some public square where the maximum number of people could see me, when I stopped, threw my leg over the seat, got caught on the seat, and promptly fell onto the sidewalk sideways. 

It is hard getting up off the floor at my age. But I did it. I stood there leaning on the bicycle for a while, until I could remember what it feels like to ride instead of fall. A guy from a construction site came over and told me that I couldn’t continue to stand where I was because it was the access for trucks coming to the site. He apologized, because he had seen me fall, but had to ask me to move.

That was all right, because I was ready to go. I mounted up and took it slow and easy the rest of the way to the hotel. I lay down for a couple of hours. When I stood up, I could feel it. My knee and calf give me hell whenever I put weight on them. It was a bitch last night, but is not so annoying now.

Pedaling the bicycle gives me no problem at all.

So far, this has been a very successful trip. I have pushed it, taken a fall, and am still going. I was probably lost for a couple of minutes now and then.

Larry was working during the day, so I met him at Barney’s Uptown a little before 7. We biked over to a spot called Van Beeren (which may mean “of the bears,” but I don’t know). It’s on Koningsstraat, not far from the Nieuwmarkt and De Bekeerde Suster. I had a steak with a Leffe blond, a Belgian golden ale, and then a De Koninck, which I had expected to be Pilsener. It is top-fermented like Pilsener, but it is a full-flavored amber brew, tasting like an old-style ale.

I can’t tell about Leffe. That may be the same thing: top-fermented, too, but flavored like an ale.

At some point, we stopped at a coffee shop called Basjoe on Kloveniersburgwal.

The next stop was the ancient tasting room at the Wynand Fockink distillery, which is on Pijlsteeg, just off the Dam Square and literally in the shadow of the Hotel Grand Krasnapolsky.

Merle from the Hemp was going to meet us there. Merle’s family owns the Hemp Hotel, and he usually takes the late shift at the bar.

Wynand Fockink serves spirits in tulip glasses. The pour uses the tensile strength of the liquid to fill the glass over the rim. You start your drink with the use of no hands. You bend down like one of those old toy drinking kiwi birds and sip from the glass on the bar.

The bartender took the photo of the day. It shows Merle on the right, Larry in the middle, and the top of my head on the left as we’re getting started on a spirituous liquors pub crawl.

The liqueur is Bierblomme, a distilled liquor made from beer. The beer chasers are the same type of beer from which the spirit is made, from the De Ryck brewery in Belgium.

Wynand is a beautiful place of dark wood, old glass, sagging shelves, ancient crocks, and newer bottles. The tasting room is open from three till nine, so we were there at closing time.

We went to another ancient pub, In de Olofspoort, which is on Nieuwebrugsteeg (New Bridge Alley) about three short blocks from my hotel. The saloon is named for a long-gone city gate, which stood by an also long-gone chapel dedicated to St. Olof, the patron saint of cities.

Sir Michael caught up with us at the Olofspoort.

We had a flight of three types of genever, the original Dutch drink that became gin in England. One was made with peat, perhaps burned to malt the grain, and tasted much like Irish whiskey, although it struck me as a little sweeter. 

The three-year-old genever was good, and the five-year-old was better. I like spirits now and then, but they are potent, so I go easy on them. I sampled the three shots and had a couple of half pints of Pilsener.  

By the time Sir Michael showed up, we were listening to the owner of the bar and a companion singing various folk songs. This is punishment for Larry, but I find it very amusing. 

They asked Michael where he was from, and he said “Scotland.” So they sang “Loch Lomond” for him. 

When I said the U.S., the best they could get from the songbook was “She’ll Be Coming ’Round the Mountain.” There was also a sing-along of “Danny Boy.”

I had to call it a night at 11:30. I found my bike with Larry’s help and he pointed me in the direction I needed to go. 

I put the bike and then myself away. I lay down and didn’t move until 8 in the morning. After that, I went back for a nap.

I leave you with words of wisdom found along the way.