Some days defy description; this was one. When the universe seems to move the Amstel river, unintentional exploring becomes a delight.
Anyway, this is how it began:
Rick had been dying to try Dutch pancakes. These are topped with a blend of apple slices and a lot of cinnamon, served with syrup and dusting sugar and need I say more?
Our plans for a free concert at The Royal Concertgebouw were stymied by locked doors. Assuredly they were still suffering from Covid-related restrictions. And so, we headed to Spiegelgracht to walk the galleries. And I lost my heart to a Dutch artist and his rendering of corpulent Dutch ladies enjoying a merry lunch together. A magnifying glass hung beside the painting in order to really appreciate the fine detail and application of gold throughout a truly stunning work of work. Without a price tag. Which was probably just as well, since it was definitely in the six-figure range. And, worth every penny.
To absorb and pontificate upon the treasures we had just viewed, we found a hidden cafe on a straat. There we sat under balconies 400 years old, feeling the weight and the beauty of our surroundings. Very Venice-like.
Little Venice.
After our artistic reflection, things got a little muddled as we revised our plan A (take the tram home) to, let’s walk, “I am positive I know the way home. All we have to do is find the Amstel and follow that!”. So like the lemmings we are, puddled along behind Dave and waited for the sudden jerk of his head that meant he was on course. That never happened. “Sunoffabitch! Some bastard moved the Amstel!”. Cue spooky music.
Plan C. Let’s just keep walking and find a bar. Unanimous vote. So we found…
And then somehow we wound up at the Science Center and then across an Art Deco bridge wherein I embraced my 10-year-old self… “Look at me with my BIG brother!”
We made it home after a hitch or two, both entirely pleasant and involving Amstel beer. And tonight there is another platter of Dutch cheese, seedy bread and a warm sack of duck and pork (the duck and pork were entirely responsible for our veering off course, but who cares? And why do ducks have it in for us?)
Here’s a shot of a typical Dutch doggy. They ride in the front basket of the bikes, they are everywhere, and they are the happiest creatures on earth. Just like this guy.
Tomorrow…. Biking in Leiden. No ducks. No maps. No Amstel River. Pray for us.
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