Dispatch from Amsterdam, The Netherlands - Whatever Will Be, Will Be

So I am flying into London this morning en route to Amsterdam.  On the approach to Heathrow, we fly over the city with the early morning sun lighting her up as the fog lifts.  So beautiful - St. Paul's, the London Eye, Westminster, St. James's Park, Buckingham Palace.  When I was last in London, I remember sitting in Westminster Park watching the jets come up the Thames toward Heathrow.  Now I'm in one looking down.


From London, it's on to Amsterdam landing at Schiphol airport.  On the approach I can see lots of water, dykes, and even some windmills.  For some reason I want to sing, "It's a Small World".

Schiphol airport is beautiful - functional and aesthetically pleasing with lots of natural light.

I'm staying a bit out of the city center at the Hotel de Filosoof (Philosopher's Hotel), a great boutique hotel with each room decorated after a different philosopher.  The staff are fantastic - attentive and gracious in an understated way.

After settling in, I'm off to explore the city to clear some of my jet lag cobwebs.  All right Amsterdam, what have you got for me?  

After wandering through the Vondelpark, I head into the city center. Despite it being a bleak day with a gray sky and some rain, the city is beautiful, with its web of canals and distinct architecture.  In the street markets, in contrast to the gray weather, there are huge bunches of tulips and other flowers with riotous colors.  




And everyone seems to be smiling.  Are they all high?  The only time they seem not to smile is when you are not in your demarcated lane.  Amsterdam has clearly painted lanes on the roads for every mode of transport: trams, cars, bikes, pedestrians.  And as I quickly find out, if you stray out of your lane, you get the stink eye.  There are bikes everywhere and the people are adept at riding them, weaving around people and trams while holding an umbrella and talking on the phone.  Wow, now that's a talent.


OK, a random thought. I'm noticing that the coat of arms for Amsterdam contains "XXX".  With the city's red light district, is that where X-rated comes from?  Must not be - that's silly.






It appears that there is an Indonesian restaurant on every street corner.  Who knew that Amsterdammers love Indonesian food so much. There must be a reason so I pick a place near the market and venture in. The place is completely empty because it is mid-afternoon between meal times.  But before I can duck out, a woman comes from the back, wiping her hands on her apron and motions for me to sit down.  I do and, after she composes herself and finds the cook (maybe he was napping somewhere between service), I end up having an outstanding Nasi Goreng that was prepared fresh just for me.  And I wash it down with a Heineken.  What a great first meal in Amsterdam on a rainy day.

But when the food and beer hit my belly, the jet lag bangs me over the head...hard.  I head back to the hotel.  As I'm walking by a square, my attention is drawn to this elderly woman standing in the light rain wearing a bright red kerchief and a blue trench (if you're from North America, think of the cartoon character "Maxine" on Hallmark greeting cards.  If you're from elsewhere in the world, think of an old lady in a red kerchief and a blue trench).  Seemingly without a care in the world, she is banging a tambourine and belting out, "Que sera, sera!  Whatever will be, will be!  The future's not ours to see!  Que sera, sera!".  It doesn't appear that she is doing this for money and no one is paying her much attention but I can't stop watching as I walk by (and into a bike lane, earning me the second stink eye of the day).

Back at the hotel, I'm flopped on the bed drifting in and out, with a picture of Rodin's "The Thinker" above me.  And I can't get that damn song out of my head.  "Que sera, sera...".