Arriving in Amsterdam I found… Canadians. Lots and lots of Canadians. And lots of English. Indeed, those serving tourists often initiated conversations in English. The hostel I stayed in (Vondelpark Stayokay – a Hostelling International hostel) was quite nice though without a kitchen. It was clean, had decent beds, a warm atmosphere, and safe rooms. And lots of Canadians.
The ways I met Canadians were numerous – one girl from Vancouver (Sanna) talking to another form Maryland (Tia, both very nice people who I spent time with over the following days), a group from Toronto in the room next to mine, a group from the U of A who recognized my dodgeball record shirt, and even a street performer who swore regularly before saying “eh”, had a Canadian flag sewn on his straight jacket, and confirming his origin in his plea for funds. There were many more examples, and I figure I saw at least 25-30 other Canadians while in Amsterdam. We aren’t Holland over… that goal is apparently already accomplished. Other occupiers of Amsterdam included Occupy. I still don’t understand the positive water stand. *shrug*
Amsterdam was awesome. My first full day I hit up the Van Gogh museum, which revealed the classic truth that an artist`s works only become valuable after their death. The next day I visited the Anne Frank museum, ensuring that I would continue my pattern that each European trip pays homage to the Holocaust. The museum was interesting, but of course also sad – near the end of the war, the Franks had been discovered through an anonymous tip and only the father lived to see liberation; the rest died having nearly made it to the end of the war. Otto returned to Amsterdam finding his daughter’s diaries preserved by a worker in his business and decided to publish them. Looking in the guest shop, I found the first passage of Anne Frank`s diaries quite meaningful; and written almost exactly 70 years ago. Monday featured a canal tour, with a long boat that can be turned on an amazingly sharp dime and Tuesday was a trip up to Alkmarr.
Alkmarr was our gateway to northern Holland. “Our” included Sanna and Maggie, who we’d met on Monday asking for directions to the Anne Frank House. We rented bikes next to the train station and headed off, covering about 55 km of winding roads to see fields of tulips, windmills, and the dyke that keep this part of the Netherlands was being below the ocean. Indeed, a significant part of the Netherlands is below sea level; it seemed oddly “Dutch” that the beach was, as part of the dyke system, paved. We had some good exercise and returned to Amsterdam in time for me to grab some bites to eat before jumping on this train.
As for Amsterdam’s “sins”? I don’t smoke weed and have little interest in purchasing sex – though I’m glad to see both available through a regulated market. I did smell quite a bit of weed throughout Amsterdam and toured through the Red Light District with some fellow hostellers, being quite surprised to see some hunched over prostitutes smoking, while less surprised to see others adorned with simply too much makeup and odd fashion pieces. While pot or prostitutes aren’t for me, I think the choice to have them in a regulated rather than unregulated market allows more control of the activities in a safe way. These two “things” are problems in every country I know of and outright bans simply aren’t effective; I see more social harm in trying, but failing, to address problems associated with prostitution and drugs through an outright ban rather than through regulation.