When I asked this morning at the front-desk where I could get a good Dutch meal so that I could say that I had eaten Dutch, I was told that there were a couple but that I wouldn't enjoy it. "Dutch food" the desk clerk informed me "is a bit stodgy. It's all mashed potatoes and overcooked vegetables; meat that is overcooked and gluey gravies." As appetizing as that sounded, I decided I would rather give it a miss.
Just as well. I found only two restaurants in my travels yesterday that advertised "Dutch" cooking. One was closed. The other might have well as been; their business was as brisk as the tomb. I decided to strike out and fine something else to sate the hunger that I was developing from having skipped lunch (and, come to think of it, breakfast was just a roll with some Port Salude cheese on the plane over from London! - No wonder I was famished!)
I finally decided on a steak at an Argentinean restaurant not far from the hotel. This had been one of the places they had mentioned to me so, why not? Sitting at table, I was watching the throng go by and enjoying a pretty good steak and had just ordered a second glass of wine when the man at the next table asked me if I was American.
"Yes. I said. I am." I responded, pausing only shortly to consider claiming to be Canadian. Americans are not popular in some parts over here… (With the wanker we have in the White House, you need not wonder why!)
"My wife is American." He responded. "What part of the states are you from?" he asked.
(What wife? He was sitting at table alone.) "I own a place in Denver," I said "but I've been on an extended business trip to London for most of the last year."
"Ah!" He said. We're going there next." He beamed. "We're on our honeymoon!" at this point, the absent wife appeared, kissed her husband and joined him at table. The joint between the tables was so narrow we may as well have been sharing one so we continued our conversation.
We did introductions all around. Ben had been living in San Rafael, California for the past few years and was a professor at Berkley. Amy had completed some graduate work there and worked in San Francisco. We then spent our dinners in pleasant conversation and in poking fun at the people acting obviously "tourist-like" passing the restaurant's window.
I nearly demurred last night when they invited me to join them at a club they were going to with some lame excuse about having an agenda to keep. But they didn't give me the chance. I had told them during introductions that I had come over on a whim to celebrate my birthday and they insisted I not celebrate alone.
The club was… an experience. The music was good; the dance floor was crowded. The crowd was surprisingly well mixed. All ages, all sorts of clothing. It was a truly eclectic crowd. It was not the type of club that you'd likely run across anywhere but Amsterdam. Whereas many dance clubs in the states have cages that people can dance in, very few (none that I know of) have exotic dancers dancing in the cages.
We stayed quite late. Around two this morning, I found my way back to the hotel and headed up to bed. What a night!
I hope that wherever you are today, you've got things to celebrate!
Don Bergquist - 16 February 2007 - Amsterdam, Holland, The Netherlands
2 comments:
You are in Amsterdam and the locals don't direct you to a rijsttafel? I guess since they have only held the East Indies for 450 years it does not yet qualify as Dutch cusine.
Dear Anonymous Reader,
Would but that you had been here to give me directions to a local rijsttafel (Rice Table). I have to admit that no, nobody even mentioned one to me. I got suggestions to go to the Argentinean steak house and to a really good Cantonese restaurant, nobody even suggested Southeast Asian to me!
I had to look this one up but the descriptions I found make it look truly intriguing! I'll have to add it to my list of things to try should I return to the Netherlands!
djb
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