Amsterdam – The Netherlands

Now bear with me as I try to take travel writing into the realm of work. Not that bullshit, social media, views driven, paid for by some crappy product you’ve never wanted or needed so that you can try and tell me how great Bali is while wearing a beautifully fitted bikini. No. I mean actual work, work that involves a salary, work that involves thinking, work that involves dairy cows and tractors, and luckily for me, work that may involve a bit of travel. And so this is where it begins, skilfully attempting to write a travel blog with as few references to work as possible despite that travel firmly rooted in work. Thinking about, I’m no different to the Bali influencer, desperate for material and trying to milk everything for what it’s worth. Pun intended!

It’s a jolly nice flight to the Netherlands from Qatar; an 8.30am departure that gets into Amsterdam just in time for lunch. At the border I was completely stumped by the officer when he asked why I was there. It’s usually a very simple reply, ‘tourist.’ This time though it was ‘business,’ which then provoked the question inquiring what it was I do, which even I find hard to comprehend sometimes. Of course, every second that passed by led to increasing thoughts of if I’m allowed to travel on business in Europe or did I in fact need a different visa; what’s the difference between visiting a country on business and visiting for work; have Europe and the UK changed travel rules again? Regardless, after I mumbled something about cows, he let me through. The beauty of Schiphol Airport is the train station that smacks you in the face as soon as you exit departures and that there are trains to apparently most of the country from there. I jumped on one of these trains and spent two hours staring out the window watching the depressingly flat but beautifully green countryside pass me by. I had only been in Qatar for a month but it felt great to be back to somewhere that felt a little closer to home. I spent three days in the east of the country, close to the German border. The Netherlands is a lot like the UK with grim areas of concrete and industry, sprawling motorways and grey skies, but also beautiful little villages, narrow country lanes, and a charming countryside – aside from being excessively flat. It goes without saying that the locals are wonderful and for a maiden solo work venture the people I met eased me into this new chapter of my life. One night after dinner at the hotel I decided I had earnt a pint of the local brew, Heineken being the logical choice in my artisanal opinion, and so I headed to the bar. Here I met Joe, a gentleman in a flat cap who was unable to immediately take payment for my beer and made the very good point that despite my intention of only one, I would in fact be staying for at least two pints; he was of course, correct. 

After incessantly slagging of Qatar for the past few months – so much so I have held back one blog for now for the irrational fear of losing my emotionally hard-won residency permit – I decided it made sense to extend my trip into the weekend and make the most of being away. Instead of flying straight back to Qatar on the Thursday evening, I pushed my flight back to Friday afternoon and booked a night in Amsterdam which turned out to be less fun than if I had just returned back to Doha. To begin with, finding a reasonable hotel at a reasonable price was ridiculously difficult. Maybe I’m becoming more demanding of where I stay, which is possible, but also I feel Amsterdam has just become very expensive. I ended up staying on the edge of the old town near to the central train station which proved a decent and convenient spot but a little too far out the way to bother venturing into town that evening, so I ate at the hotel, had an early night and prepped for some exploring the following morning.

As ever I had little planned when I ventured out the next day. The sun and rainclouds spent the entire morning jostling for superiority intent on frustrating me. My immediate priority was breakfast which I assumed would be easy in one of the famed cities of the world but apparently not. As I strolled through the streets of old town, I passed two McDonalds on the same street without seeing a single decent place to have a proper breakfast. The streets began to merge into a generic procession of shops preying on the mob of tourists that appear only too happy to fuel the mundane. Stores selling trainers and sweets were prolific for some strange reason. One store was selling only rubber ducks which ordinarily would be quite cute and funny yet here it symbolised the crowning achievement of Amsterdam washing up on the shores of the hell that is mass tourism. The city is famous for its liberal attitude to drugs and sex, an image it is now trying to change and is clear for anyone visiting why it needs to. The British, naturally, are blamed for running riot in Amsterdam but if you leave out the jam, wasps will come. A city that is full of tits, beer, and weed was never likely to attract obedient clientele, no matter their nationality. Amsterdam should (and to be fair probably is) take a long hard look at itself instead of blaming the British for its woes. The streets are dirty, the shops full of tat, a red-light district that resembles scenes from Gotham City, an area that doesn’t feel safe to walk through even at 10am. Yes, it’s a sign of me getting older and the last time I was in Amsterdam was 15 years ago to drink myself stupid and visit strip clubs, but surely we can sin in a nice environment? In support of Amsterdam’s traditional liberalism this isn’t just Amsterdam’s problem. Venice and Santorini are two other locations in Europe that have sold out to mass tourism and find themselves in a vicious cycle of cheap tat and a rush to the bottom. Indeed, we have seen this year European cities beginning to fight back against tourism and good for them. Rebalance is needed, these once great towns and cities need to re-discover themselves and return to the very character that made them so great and wonderful to visit. How, I have no idea. It will be difficult in a social media dominated age but let’s not forget that these cities will all have aggressively used social media to get people to visit. In Amsterdam’s defence, grey skies and rain never help in combating an already established poor opinion of a place, and sometimes I don’t help myself. Some of this rant was noted while sat waiting on the covered terrace of a café I finally found that looked welcoming. The door to the café was open but outside was empty and being a good Brit, I sat patiently waiting for someone to take my order. I left in a huff, my negative opinions bolstered, only to walk around the corner and be greeted by the main entrance to the same café which led into a lively and charmingly antique interior. My bad. I loaded up on a club sandwich and a huge pancake covered in fresh fruit and cream, all served to me by an Australian. I relaxed, I softened, but in the end I was happy to catch my conveniently timed 4pm flight and head back to a city that despite my grumblings feels fresher and more positive than an obviously tired and lost Amsterdam.  

20th September 2024