June 13-14
Thursday I made it a point to break a pattern.
I spent a couple of hours in the Rijksmuseum. That much isn’t a pattern, but a must. You have to go there at least once any time you’re in Amsterdam.
Usually, though, I never get past the Dutch Masters. That’s what the place is really known for, after all, and the Vermeers and the Rembrandts alone are enough to keep me happy.
So I’m usually worn out by the time I’ve crept through those rooms. This time I had a new strategy to give equal time to neglected centuries.
I’ll be in town for another week. I didn’t even try to see “The Night Watch” or “The Milkmaid.” I’ll get to them next time.
It’s easy to get to the museum from the Hotel Prinsengracht: turn right as you go out, walk a couple of hundred yards to the first canal that goes to the left. That’s Spiegelgracht.
You can see the Rijksmuseum from that intersection. Now, I got lost once in Amsterdam during a walk that was just as simple. But that time, I had been eating space cake with a few pints of ale. This time I was sober, and so made it just fine.
The visit started on the lower floor, with the medieval collection.
Medieval art is generally regarded as stiff and definitely a product of its time. That’s much of the attraction. It invites you to imagine the hands that created these works so long ago.
Wooden apostles, crucifixes, a gleaming golden bust that once held a bit of a saint’s skull—even when they are out of context like this, in glass cases, they conjure a different state of mind. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t want to go there, but it’s kind of fun to visit in the imagination.
The museum also has a number of the brightly colored scenes of happy village life, guys bringing in the sheaves, toppling barmaids, and getting drunk. They aren’t Breughels, but they’re in the same vein. Sort of like Amsterdam today.
One of the most fascinating artifacts is a rosary bead. It opens up to show a crowd scene of the crucifixion, carved in miniature detail inside a space no bigger than an apricot. Who carved that? Who made the tools?
I didn’t get a shot of the bead, but managed to photograph a slightly larger carved group, which I believe portrays the death (or Dormition) of the Virgin Mary. The detail is fascinating.
There was also a presentation case of packaging designed for opium. The Dutch government took over the opium trade in its East Indian colonies late in the 19th century.
The second floor has 19th century work. Many are by painters showing the influence of Gauguin and Van Gogh.
It’s very difficult to bring variety into Dutch landscapes. You can add or subtract a windmill. But everything is so flat that the compositions all look much the same.
One, however, shows a tree with an almost shellburst pattern of branches bending over a stream. Lost in the shade is a painter working in a rowboat. There is a flat landscape in the background, but the radiating branches of the tree reduce it to bright glimpses through the dark leaves.
Larry and I were to meet at 6 at Wynand Fockink in Pijlsteeg, an alley near Dam Square. Wynand (sometimes spelled Wijnand) Fockink started a distillery here in the 17th century. The bar is a tasting room for the company’s products, mostly jenever.
My favorite is Bierbloem. I’m not sure of the spelling, but know from experience that it’s a sweet liqueur made from ale. We got shots of that and chasers of Rijk, the beer it’s made from.
One bar isn’t enough, so we proceeded to Bar Jones in another alley called De Nes.
We worked our way a little farther down De Nes to a brew pub, Bierfabriek, where we had a red ale called Rosso, which was pretty good though a little light, and roast chicken, which was one of the tastiest meals I’ve had in Amsterdam.
Friday I worked on a recap of my first few days in town. Then I needed a nap.
Larry told me about another brew pub, Brouwerij Poesiat & Kater, about 3 or 4 km from the Prinsengracht Hotel. After the surprisingly good dinner at Bierfabriek, we decided to try the food there.
First Larry biked to the hotel and handed me a transport card, good for tram, bus, metro. Very handy, just tap the sensor on the way in and the way out.
Bikes have become a bit of a challenge for me lately, so I’m on foot or on public transport.
Larry walked his bike to the Albert Cuyp Market, which is not too far from the hotel. It’s in the Pijp, a district just outside the old town, which is known as Centrum.
The Cuyp Market is a regular gathering place in Amsterdam. It’s an every day street fair with pavilions set up to sell food, clothes, gadgets, you guess it. Years ago, on my first trip to the city, it’s where I bought small clip-on lamps for my bicycle.
You can get a ticket here for riding at night without lights. They are not standard issue when you rent a bike.
This time I didn’t need lamps, but could use a little sugar. I bought a stroopwafel, a sandwich of two flat waffles with syrup in between. It was like eating a large, sticky cookie.
We took a break at Katsu, a coffee shop near the market, where Larry had a little smoke and I had coffee. Then we moved on to the tram stop.
Larry took off on his bike to meet me at the other end of the ride.
I was OK with the ticket, but this was the first time I had to enter one of these trams on my own. The other times, I was following people who had done this before.
I tipped the ticket against the sensor. There was a beep to acknowledge that, but the gate didn’t swing open. So I pushed against it. No good.
A lady who was quicker than I was showed me that the gate opens the other way. Of course, it should. It isn’t going to swing into the car where people are standing.
I apologized for being stupid and went to another part of the car.
I hadn’t had anything stronger than espresso all day but even so it felt like lala land in my head. Maybe I’d caught a contact high at Katsu.
There was even similar fun on the way out. I remembered the card and got a double beep this time. The gate was no problem because I was headed in its direction.
But the doors didn’t open. Larry was grinning on the other side. I’m looking for the door button. There’s nothing on the door at all.
Larry hits the button on the outside to let me out before the car pulls away.
Later, on the way home, I was watching closely. That small green button on the handrail isn’t to request a stop. It’s the door switch.
I suddenly felt almost competent.
After our experience at Bierfabriek, we expected the food to be good at Poesiat & Kater.
We looked at the menu and found it limited. We didn’t want chicken again and didn’t feel like buying $30 steaks. I ordered a cheese platter to start. It had four kinds of cheese, including a tiny wedge of Camembert and three or four small sticks of Gouda.
Not much for 16 euros.
The beer was better. The company brews a variety under two names, Poesiat en Kater and Van Vollenhoven. I tried three of the Van Vollenhovens.
One was called East Indies Pale Ale. There was another called Falcon Ale, which was a bit too sweet. Princesse Bier was good.
To my taste the East Indies was the best of the trio. It was fragrant, well hopped, and balanced by plenty of malt.
It had been another gray day, but we got a break in the clouds, so it was fun to sit at a picnic table outside and watch the gulls fly by.
Larry was put off by the cheese plate, so we moved to Dimitri’s, which is across the street from the tram station. Larry had a variety of appetizers for dinner.
There was a dish of mild roasted chiles. He also had local favorite called bitterballen, a kind of croquette served with sauce.
I tried one. The sauce was interesting. It was pale green. Maybe this is what curried guacamole might taste like.
We were in a place called Muiderpoort. A conventional rail station and stops for several tram lines are packed within a couple of blocks.
The No. 1 tram comes closest to the hotel so I took it back to Vijzelgracht station.
I stopped at a bar on the corner of Prinsengracht for a glass of Affligem, an ale made by a Belgian brewing company that claims to date back to 1079.
I’ve had it before, and it’s a good Belgian ale. It has some flavor of herbs. I never know if it’s stuff added or a natural flavor in the hops or the malt, but it’s characteristic of Belgian brews.
So having done my bit to support the brewing industry, I headed toward home base and a night’s rest.
Good rest and fine herbs, gang. Everybody stay well.
Harry
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