As we鈥檝e had to postpone our travels because of the pandemic, I believe a weekly dose of travel dreaming can be good medicine. Here鈥檚 a reminder of the fun that awaits us in Europe at the other end of this crisis.
Sightseeing is more than just seeing. To get the full experience of a place, you need to feel, hear, taste, and smell it. On this visit to Amsterdam, I鈥檓 making a point to focus on sensual travel. It鈥檚 a city made to engage all the senses.
I always rent a bike here. I want to feel the bricks and pavement beneath two wheels. The lack of hills and the first-class bike lane infrastructure makes biking here a breeze. The clerk at the rental shop must be tired of explaining why they don鈥檛 carry mountain bikes in this flat land. When I ask, he responds 鈥� in classic Dutch directness 鈥� 鈥淢ountain bikes in the Netherlands make no sense at all. When a dog takes a dump, we have a new mountain. You pedal around it鈥ot over. It鈥檚 no problem.鈥�
I ride off along the shiny wet cobbles, my Amsterdam experience framed by my black bike鈥檚 handlebars. I get pinged by passing bikes and ping my bell to pass others. When it comes to bike bells, there鈥檚 no language barrier. For my own safety, I wish I had a bigger periphery, as cars, trams, bikers, and pedestrians seem to float by from all directions in silence 鈥� their noise lost in the white noise of breezing through this dreamy city on two wheels.
Reaching the Red Light District, I stop to use a classic old street-corner urinal. It鈥檚 painted a deep green and designed to give the user plenty of privacy from the neck down and a slice-of-Amsterdam view at the same time. The pungent smells of pot smoke and someone else鈥檚 urine compete with the dank smell of the canal. I remember one of the new Amsterdam facts I鈥檝e learned: A handful of people drown in the canals each year. When their bodies are finally dredged up, very often, their zippers are down. They were very drunk and, rather than using the civilized urinal as I did, they used the canal鈥heir final mistake. Across the lane, a woman in lingerie eyes me seductively from a window, framed in red. I think to myself: 鈥淭his is probably the most unforgettable trip to a urinal I鈥檒l ever have in my life.鈥�
Continuing on my ride, it strikes me that much of Amsterdam still looks like it did three or four centuries ago, during the Dutch Golden Age, when this was the world鈥檚 richest city.
I continue on to a square called Museumplein where Amsterdam鈥檚 three big art museums are gathered.
I stop a moment to take in the square. Long lines plague the Dutch Master-filled Rijksmuseum and Van Gogh Museum 鈥� both understandably popular. There鈥檚 rarely a wait at the Stedelijk Museum, nicknamed 鈥渢he bathtub鈥� because of the striking shape of its modern architecture. Inside are 20th-century favourites (Dal铆, Picasso, Kandinsky) and crazy contemporary art. I鈥檓 not a big fan of the abstract style, but the artwork at the Stedelijk is really fun (perhaps really, really fun if you鈥檙e into marijuana 鈥� sold with a smile in the city鈥檚 many 鈥渃offee shops鈥�).
The city鈥檚 biggest green space, Vondelpark, is just a short pedal away. I roll by snippets of Dutch conversation 鈥� families with kids, romantic couples, strolling seniors, and hippies sharing blankets and beers.
By now my sense of taste is ready for a little attention. Last night I enjoyed a grand rijsttafel (literally 鈥渞ice table鈥�), a ritual dish for tourists in Holland. Not a true Indonesian meal, it鈥檚 a Dutch innovation designed to highlight the best food of its former colony 鈥� specifically to show off all the spices that in some ways originally motivated the colonial age. The dinner includes 20 dishes and a rainbow of spices with white rice to mix and mingle on your plate and palate. Working your way through this tasty experience, it鈥檚 clear why the Dutch called Indonesia 鈥淭he Spice Islands.鈥�
This article was adapted from Rick鈥檚 new book, For the Love of Europe.
Rick Steves (ricksteves.com) writes European guidebooks, hosts travel shows on public TV and radio, and organizes European tours. You can email Rick at [email protected] and follow his blog on Facebook.
