Amsterdam Centraal

Amsterdam Central Station is the Kim Kardashian of train stations - high maintenance, more than a little dirty, frequently invaded by foreign objects, yet not without its charm at times.

Centraal (the extra 'a' is the Dutch spelling) like so much of the overall Dutch experience, inspires a mix of emotions.

It is not the cleanest of stations, no. Particularly during the perennial garbage strikes that grip the station, when you have to navigate the piles of trash and Euro-trash while you dash to your soon-departing train.

Inside, it's not the nicest-looking of stations either. Any number of major centres in Europe have way more attractive central stations - including Paris' Gare de Lyon and Brussels' Antwerp, to name but two - where you step out and feel as though you are in a museum.

As far as amenities, it's lacking. A couple of fast food kiosks, a Hema (a future post will explain the goodness that is Hema), a pay toilet, and that's kind of it. Save for a few benches and a four-seat Starbucks, you can barely find a spot to sit down in the event that you have to wait to meet someone (an all too frequent experience, thanks to the train company NS, short for Nederlandse Spoorwegen, or No Service). You can't even meet someone for a beer here to ease the pain of a teary farewell or celebrate a homecoming.

And yet.

It's seeing the amazing mix and hum of foreign travellers and locals buzzing through the station from all directions. It's the thousands of bikes stacked seemingly on top of each other just steps from the door, yours included, offering quick access to the city beyond.

It's the water ringing the north and south entrances, a sparkling sight to see on a sunny day when the city is crackling with possibility. And it's the arrival from Amsterdam itself, when the station's exterior of red bricks, gold trim, exterior art work and a beautiful clock tower beckon from far away.

As for which one will age more gracefully, Amsterdam Centraal vs Kardashian, my money's on the one with the less generous seating.

I

Part II - Get to Know an Amsterdammer - Sports Edition

Nicol David is back for Part II of our interview. Technically speaking, of course, she's some 16,600 kilometers away in Canberra, Australia at the moment, heading into the final of the Australian Open on Sunday August 19th.

*UPDATE - Aug 20th - Nicol won the tournament.

www.squashsite.co.uk

Nicol spent the previous weeks on a promotional campaign during the London Olympics to make squash an Olympic sport. When she first told me she was active in this campaign I was surprised, thinking that squash was naturally already part of Olympics.

After all, it's played in 175 countries, and is most definitely a great sport requiring world-class physical skill and athleticism when played at the highest levels. And it's a sport that, in my humble opinion, is far more deserving to be in the Olympics than a handful of sports, like whitewater rafting, or any equestrian event, or the always-ridiculous race-walking. But that's just me. Before we go any further...

Support the bid to make squash an Olympic sport

Now back to the interview.

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How much do you travel in a given year?

Well, aside from travelling to tournaments, I try to get back to Malaysia four or five times per year. That alone is about eleven and half hours one way. Tournament-wise, I play in ten or so tournaments a year, all over the world. So travel is a huge part of my life. I can sleep anywhere, anytime though [Nicol has slept virtually the entire trip on the Malaysia-Amsterdam leg before].

Any travel tips? This is a Lonely Planet blog, after all.

I can travel really light - a dress, a bikini, three pairs of shorts, and one set of formal trousers and a top and I can be away for weeks. I also think with my passport, some money and my phone I can survive anywhere.

I see you are the Malaysian representative as the National Goodwill Ambassador for the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) - can you tell me more about this?

It involves some mission work and awareness for the UN's Millenium Developement Goals. I am currently devoting a lot of time to the squash so I hope to spend more time once I've stopped playing competitively.

Aside from more UNDP work, what are your plans after your squash career?

Well, for one, I really hope to stay in top shape for the next eight years so I can participate in the Olympics, if squash makes it in as an event.

I really want to give back to Malaysia. All my training is funded by the Malaysian National Sports Council, which has been such a help. I might like to develop my own academy back home. Hundreds of kids are trying to get in for coaching, so if I can help out in some way that would be great.

---

And with that, I will sign off. Meeting Amsterdammers is always interesting for me, as it's such a multi-cultural and dynamic city. But this is first time that it's also been motivating.

Meeting the top player in the world in squash, who happens to fit in work with the UN and a campaign to the International Olympic Committee, stays close to her family - all while managing to be a really genuine and cool person - makes for prime motivation to get going on my own self-improvement goals.

Get to Know An Amsterdammer - Sports Edition

You meet some very interesting people in this city.

A year or so ago, I wrote a short collection of posts called "Get to Know an Amsterdammer". It featured people profiles from interesting locals (not necessarily long-term residents) from a variety of professions and backgrounds.

Nicol David, six-time and reigning squash world champion

In the hopes of reviving this series, I managed to meet a great person to start with: Nicol David, the reigning six-time world champion female squash player. Nicol, 28, is from Malaysia, and she's also possibly the nicest world champion of anything.

We sat down at the club where she trains, Squash City, and had a great chat for close to 90 minutes.

Here we go, with part 1:

What brings you to Amsterdam?

In 2003, I came here to be close to my coach, Liz Irving, who was living in Amsterdam already. I met Liz on tour years earlier and decided she would be a great fit for me. Career-wise, it was the best move for me - Liz knows what is takes to be a top-tier player, she offered me a lot in terms of learning and still has a lot to offer today. She's one of the best mentors for a female squash player.

I loved the city when I first visited, in 2001. I felt comfy right away when I loved here, it's a big city but feels like a small town.

Amsterdam is not known for its "healthy" lifestyle image - what do you do outside of training?

The "unhealthy" scene that tourists know is only a small part of it. There's so much to do - the architecture, the arts, the music - and people have the freedom to do whatever they want and there's a respect for what anyone wants to do. I can focus solely on squash. I also like that you can bike everywhere. The rain doesn't bother me that much - squash is weather-proof.

I'm normally so tired after training that I don't do much![Ed. - Nicol spends approximately 20 hours/week on the court, and has recently added another step up to her training with Patrick, her personal trainer at Squash City]. Westerpark (Westergas Fabriek), and music gigs and festivals are some of my favourites.

What are your favourite places to play, as a tourist and from a player's perspective?

Wow, so many places. As a tourist, Australia and New Zealand are amazing. I can see myself living in either place, with the nature and the peace. Mexico, for the food and the people - they have a similar style to Malaysia. And Rio has a great beach and sporting culture.

The setting for squash in the Cayman Islands
(photo: www.squashsite.co.uk)

As a player, some of the coolest locations are the Cayman Islands and Hong Kong. In the Caymans, you play in a glass box by the bay - a beautiful setting. And the harbourfront, in view of the Hong Kong skyline, is another great location to play. They host of the best tournaments each year.


Part 2 comes later this week, and talks about Nicol's work with the UN, her insane travel schedule, and more.

Me and Chi

Signs a North American might be assimilating to a European lifestyle:

• You first reject, then accept, then regularly seek out, mouldy cheese.
• Your suits get slimmer.
• Your love handles do not.
• Your bathing suit shrinks - not to Speedo-level, mind you, but to at least half the size of the tent-like Abercrombie shorts previously favoured by you and most of your old countrymen.
• You have not eaten a meal in a car for at least 3 years.
• You see approximately 92% fewer fake breasts (but who's counting?).
• You have bought a scooter.

Enter Mister Chi. 

Mister Chi is the scooter shop in Amsterdam was where I took the plunge and bought this motorized marvel, to help get into town much quicker. They are Chinese-made scooters, as cool (some would say cooler) than the Vespa at about half the price too. They're quiet too, for those of us who like to remain polite Canadians.

I guess the immersion into Europe just became a little more immersive. They are allowed on bike paths, it costs five euros for a full tank of gas, and parking pretty much anywhere is free and easy; it all just made sense.

I live about a 30-minute bike ride to the city center, which is great for fitness but it can be a huge hassle when the wind is blowing in my face (when isn't it?) or I need to get farther (on the bike, it's close to 45-60 minutes to reach friends living on the opposite side of the city).

You can also rent a scooter at Mister Chi to check out Amsterdam. It's a sweet way to get around the city, especially if you want to check out things happening outside the center and want to get around quickly. It's way cheaper than a single taxi ride and about 100% more enjoyable.

Vive Les Differences

The third of a four-part series on being an expat

Time for a Change | The Favourites | The Differences | The Downsides

Some differences grow wider as the expat life is prolonged. What seem at first like small cracks and tiny charms become bigger potholes of annoyance; on the other hand, some items that make you scratch your head actually begin to make sense as you assimilate.

I'll speak mostly of the life in Amsterdam, seeing as how it's where I've been the majority of the time since leaving my homeland. And of course Canada, where I spent the previous 3+ decades. And while a country of 30 million and a city of 700,000 can never be reduced to just a few generalizations - there are exceptions to everything - here goes. Let's dispense with the world's most over-talked-about topic first:

THE WEATHER

In Canada, there were times every winter when the temperature hit minus-30 that I would growl and shake my head, plugging in my car and swearing "we humans were not meant to live like this"

In Amsterdam, there are times where the sun doesn't come out for weeks and the rain and gloom make me growl and shake my head, unlocking my bike and swearing "we humans were not meant to live like this"

CONVENIENCE

In Canada, as in most of western civilization, stores and pharmacies are open after 6pm.

In Amsterdam, as in much of nowhere else, most stores pharmacies close at 6pm. While getting home to his/her family for dinner no doubt enhances the pharmacist's quality of life, it does little for mine. While it only occasionally inconveniences me now, I can imagine how much it will suck if and when I have a baby, and am on occasion reduced to using a tea towel as a diaper (for the baby, I mean).

PEOPLE

In Canada, the emphasis is on home life and you have the space to make it happen. This, coupled with the need to drive every day and everywhere, does little for street life and energy.

In Amsterdam, the average apartment is pretty tiny and often home to unwanted roommates like mice. This, coupled with a bike-friendly culture and neighbourhood shops, does create an environment for seeing hundreds and thousands of people on a weekly basis - in pubs, on the streets, in cafes.

BATHROOMS

In Canada, your bathroom is often quite spacious and accommodates your need to sometimes spend some quality time there.

In Amsterdam, the toilet is located in insanely small quarters. These amount to little more than poo closets*, and your head can even be touching the door at times. No loitering here, people - do your business and move on. Claustrophobics must literally s**t themselves.

AMBIENCE

In Canada, ...

In Amsterdam, it's everywhere. On weekends in my old apartment, I would hear accordion music wafting in the windows while at night. Candles light up the windows of homes and cafes every night, and even the exteriors of many buildings are lit up thougtfully.

BEER and WINE

In Canada, you'll find a decent bottle of wine for $10 and a case of 24 beers will set you back around $18. But then you don't have to beg for a glass of water and can use bathrooms for free.

In Amsterdam, the same decent wine will cost you $5 and 24 beers can get as low as $10. But water is scarce in most establishments, and the mind-boggling practice of charging clients for use of the bathroom is commonplace.

CULTURE

In Canada, cultural pockets do exist. But when non-Canadian friends ask what's typically indicative of Canadian art, cultural traits, and food, I really need to search before sheepishly mumbling something about Inuit carvings, politeness, and maple syrup. None of which are bad, mind you - they just seem to lack a little pizzazz.

In Amsterdam, as in all of Europe, locals can point to very real, and very beautiful/cool/tasty cultural norms and identities. The area of De Pijp in Amsterdam, just as one example, has full paintings on the exterior of some buildings to showcase the art of the person for whom the street is named. Paris, Barcelona, Rome, etc. all fairly drip history and cultural and culinary richness.

*Yes, I will likely regret having written "poo closets" at some point in the future. But for now it seems to fit.

Almost There

As a cocktail of extreme busyness, mild writer's block, and a big life event coming up soon, this blog has taken a back seat and I do apologize. The good news is that there are some drafts already drafting, some posts almost posting.

For now, have a look at one of the best pieces describing life in Amsterdam I've ever read. It leaves out the copious amounts of rain and lousy service, but otherwise it's spot on.

I took the big photo atop this page on a brilliant early spring day two weeks ago, and these guys and their dogs would fit well into this article:

AFAR Magazine - Going Dutch by Chris Colin

Expat Experience - Part 1

The first of a four-part series on being an expat

Time for a Change | The Favourites | The Differences | The Downsides

We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them

Einstein

It happened about three to five years ago. Somewhere between justifying to myself the purchase of a pair of jeans that exceeded $300 and reading about a security guard who was killed in a shopping stampede in some non-descript North American city as part of its annual Black Friday insanity.

It was between those two events, punctuated by hundreds of similar ones and accompanied by my own mild-to-less-mild forms of restlessness and depression, that I decided that a change was in order. My society and I were focused on the wrong things.

In brief visits to Europe (I'll exclude the UK if it's OK, as it is as bad as the US) in 2003 and 2008, I was struck by the smaller size of houses, food dishes, and stores, but mostly by the seeming contentedness of everyone I came into close contact with, be they relatives or relative strangers. People seemed less restless, more content.

I began to long for the absence of big box stores and ripped moms patrolling the aisles of the Apple store; for a lack of discussions about the next addition to the deck or the latest Wii. I wanted to say non.

Of course, I am still not immune to desiring nice things; nor is Europe some bohemian, egalitarian utopia full of happy people and devoid of consumerism. It still helps to have money, no matter where you are. And there are plenty of people here who are trying to keep up with the Joneses, or les Jones or the van Jonesenburgs.

But it's still nowhere near as all-consuming as the all-consumption of North America. You can still wedge some fresh bread, some cheese and a $5 bottle of wine (and it's pretty good wine) under your arm and sit in a park and have a great afternoon with friends. Try doing that in Toronto or Calgary and see how many people join you.

You do feel it immediately here - that you can get by with less and somehow live more. In Amsterdam, a cramped apartment and a bike and bus pass are all seen with unjudging eyes, and it sure doesn't impact your romantic life much. I'm not sure how many girls would have been keen to jump on the back of my bike back home, but in Holland it's common to see - and pretty damn fun, for both parties.

Contrast that with discussions with friends from Vancouver, Dallas, New York... all have told me tales of woe where they're regularly asked (within minutes of meeting a woman) "What do you do?" or worse "What do you drive"?

Places like Vancouver and Calgary are loaded with eligible girls and guys, none of whom can seem to get satisfied with one another as relationships today match the consumption patterns of regular products - each one is waiting for the next iPerson upgrade, even if the current model works great. I was as guilty as anyone.

And so, the life of this expat for over two years now has been a revelation. Call them expat eyes - a way of seeing things from a different perspective. Here it's about focusing on more important things, while at the same time not needing to live like a monk either - there's plenty of nice stuff to acquire if you want, but it doesn't define you as much. There is a better balance, a sort of permissible contentedness with however much or little you have.

I would paraphrase Einstein's quote to add that we cannot solve problems while being in the same place where the problems began. I think this kind of changing of perspective is only made possible by changing one's physical location entirely, if even for a few months.

The expat experience has made a firm enough impact to ensure that this new perspective will stay with me wherever I go from now on, as expat or ex-expat.

Euro Neuro Scan

All this Euro fuss is quite interesting to an inside outsider.

To get a handle on it I read the news, and hear some people's opinions, but I am no economist. I do know the situation is dire.

What I also know is that the idea of the various 27 countries in the European Union thinking the same way about anything is flawed to begin with. They wouldn't agree on how much butter to put in a pan, much less sort out a complex economic inferno.

It'll never happen either. A Spanish person's mindset is as different from a Dutch person's as bullfighting is to bicycling; the Greeks retire in their early fifties while the Germans do so in their mid-sixties. Where some are warm, passionate, not rich, and unhurried, others just 90 minutes away by plane are chilly, economically comfortable, and always on time.

A wise friend and writer named Stephen (follow him @BogusBobby) sums up Europe very nicely:

"Above the line, it rains, they drink beer, the indigenous food sucks, they work like here [North America], and the trains run on time. Below the line, the sun shines, they drink wine, the food’s great, the trains run late, and nothing the f&$# gets done all day."

In Amsterdam, in my limited experience, it rains so much and the winters are cold and dark enough that staying in the office for lunch and an extra hour or two at the end of the day hardly seems to make a difference in the bowels of winter.

Whereas if you are sitting in Malaga, and the sunshine is beckoning you each day for what seems like 10 months of the year... well, you'd want to get out of the office too.

To try to mash these lifestyles and mindsets together, along with a dozen other ones, is a fool's errand, as it has been since the first arrow landed in some king's paella, the first boulder in some keizer's schnitzel.

I just hope it all somehow works out, so I can get below the line as often and as safely as possible.

Sunny Days

What to do on a warm, sunny day in Amsterdam, with the limited daylight hours of late November and your last few hours as a freelancer ahead?

1. Hop on the bike. The tram is for days of rain and snow, and for wimps. (Which I am for about 10 days each winter).

2. Head to Anne&Max or Cafe van Zuilen. Better coffee at the first place, better ambience at the latter.

3. Run errands, no matter how far across the city. The next 10 days call for rain, so you won't soon get this chance again.

4. Stop in at Mint Hotel's SkyLounge for the best views of the city in all directions. 6 Euros for a cup of tea = well, steep. But still worth the views.

5. Walk the dog. All the way down to the massive beach pictured here, in the leafy, mildly ghetto-y area of Slotervaart.

6. Buy fish at the Wednesday-only outdoor market on Sierplein also in the same neighbourhood. Friendly fishmonger will provide a bit of free fish for your furry friend.

7. Read online about the blast of winter that friends and family are receiving back home. Pretend as if this past summer never happened. (Which it didn't, actually).

8. Prepare for next day of sun, perhaps somewhere in mid-January.

Gym Dandy

Squash City. Health City. Fit for Life. Fitness First. The preponderance of English-only names of health clubs in Amsterdam seems curious.

Stepping into any of them (I'm a proud Squash City member) reveals a few local habits that are even more curious, at least to the North American gym-goer:

• Shyness: I don't think there is a word for it in Dutch. (Well, technically it is verlegenheid, but you get the idea). Whether it's the girls from reception entering the men's room regularly (and unannounced) to sweep and tidy up - pausing only to get you to step out of the way - or the spandex-clad guy splayed out on the incline bench press as though he's seeing a gynecologist, it seems modesty is for wimps.

• Nudity: In the same vein - varicose or otherwise - the sauna area is co-ed. This means that the person next to you on the treadmill or the yoga class may well soon be next to you in the shower, steam, or sauna as well. This can either be a pleasant experience or a "my eyes, my eyes!" event that haunts your dreams.

• Hygiene: everyone on the weight room floor has a towel with them to put between themselves and the apparatus they're working on, and you quickly feel strange without one. However, ten minutes after the workout you'll see fully naked people plunk themselves down on a bench in the steam room, sans towel, with only a quick squeegee sweep performed beforehand.

• Effort: At least twice per visit, I hear the loud, repeated exhalations of PHHHEWW or WHHOOF from a guy as he enters the men's locker room, as if to announce: "I have worked out hard... behold me, the hard-working worker!"

• Service: As with most establishments in Amsterdam, it is real hit and miss. The hit is fine - cordial, normal, helpful people - some exceptionally so. The miss, as I've seen around town on occasion, is a real miss, on a level where you want to either strike the person or ask them why they decided to work at all with other humans. A recent encounter:

Me:

Can I leave my bag here for 10 minutes (behind the trainer's desk in a corner of the gym, nowhere near any person or traffic)?

Meathead (actually the Fitness Manager, in a tone with an unreal jerkiness that is difficult to convey in print):

It's not for nothing that we have lockers, you know.

Me: (stunned silence, shaking head)

• Tanning beds: These still exist in abundance at many gyms, and they're being used all the time. You can use the fitness benefits to fight off the melanoma.

So, come join a gym in Amsterdam - there are definitely some good ones. Places like Health City include free coffee and juices; many have a buikspierkwartier, 15 minutes of core strength that will help bring out the abs; there are lots of excellent group fitness classes, spinning in particular; and most places still emphasize Dutch gezelligheid, the coziness that has been mentioned in this blog a number of times.

There's a wide range of prices, from David Lloyd's preposterous 85-100+ Euros/month to the bare bones Fit for Free's 10-20Euros/month (which, technically speaking, doesn't sound very free).

True to Dutch form, there is nothing free in any gym though - the trial workout does not seem to exist here, though most places will refund you the cost of a day pass if you join.

And wherever you go, remember to bring your towel, your spandex, and your systematically beaten down expectations of customer service.

Movie Mania

It's that time of year again, when the days darken early and Dutch parents still don't put hats or gloves on their kids.

It's also time once again for the International Documentary Film Festival, the best 10 days for movie geeks to sneak some peeks at the world's best un-Hollywood films.

I'm now on my third year of this cinematic feast, and as a seasoned vet I am all over this like Herman Cain on an assistant.

Want to make the most of the festival? Here's the lowdown:

- Get on the mailing list for the festival; they are not spammy, with only a few emails sent throughout the year, and you will get ample warned well in advance of the ticket sales and the overall program.

- On Day 1 of the kaartverkoop, go online and buy tickets for all your favourites. I bought 5 tickets this year, and it wasn't easy whittling down the choices. But waiting until the day before or day is risky. Although last-minute no-shows do happen; if you really want to see something, head to the cinema about 30 minutes before the show and talk to a ticket-taker or wait for a seller to start hawking.

- Bring your smartphone to the show - no need to line up to pick up pre-bought tickets this year, as the organizers have gone all smartphone-friendly.

- If you have any questions, be patient. The volunteers range widely from friendly and on the ball to friendly and way off the ball. It happens every year - some of them seem genuinely surprised to be there.

The lineup for the 2011 version is much the same - many with a very strong social message, some with serious stomach-churning violence and sadness; some with beauty as their main feature; and others that are light and a bit wacky. Virtually all of them look great.

This year, I've got tickets for:

Cave of Forgotten Dreams

Just came back from this; it's a fascinating movie about the discovery of cave drawings in France dating back 32,000 years, directed and narrated by Werner Herzog - in 3D no less. This movie expands your brain, largely (I think) by making us realize how short a time we're really here and how close we are to messing it up.

Desert Riders

The very sad story of camel jockeys (yes, actual camel jockeys) in the UAE.

Happiness... a Promised Land

A look at a simple question posed to various people on a hike: What makes you happy? (These days? An awesome fiancee, dogs, Guinness, playing squash, and movie festivals. I suspect this movie will delve a little deeper).

POM Wonderful presents: The Greatest Movie Ever Sold

Morgan Spurlock, the guy from Super-Size Me, casts a light on the prevalence and absurdity of advertising and insidious product placement. Which seems like a good time to mention that this blog is currently sponsored by Lithuanian garlic, Simon Levelt Indian Chai tea, Etos cough syrup and Hema's Ultra Soft nose tissues.

The Last Dogs of Winter

The Canadian Eskimo Dog is the only dog that can survive a temperature of minus-60 degrees. Only a few hundred are left. We'll see if it's chilling or heart-warming.

So a full agenda of movie-viewing is on tap, and I am overly, geekily, excited about it all. Some other ones that I may even try to see are Four Horsemen ("What is created by humans, can be changed by humans" - check out the trailer) and G Spotting: A Story of Pleasure and Promise (oddly, the identical working title of the first movie listed above). Just hope I find the damn place.

The Telltale Squeak

After a good 10-15 minutes of walking up and down the bicycle racks like a mildly insane person, looking for my trusty, rusty steed, I had finally given up hope. In a city of some 524,000 annual bike thefts (no joke), I had just experienced my first.

Or had I? Suddenly, faintly, almost plaintively, I heard the squeak.

Unmistakeable, as quiet as it was. I looked up to see a guy struggling to get on a bike while holding another one, getting ready to ride off into the masses that make up Amsterdam on a Saturday afternoon at the intersection of Spui and Kalverstraat, in the shadows of the American Book Center.

On any given weekend, this square is crammed with tourists and locals sitting on a bench, eating at a cafe, or heading to the shops nearby. Coupled with the messiest, most clogged bike parking areas this side of Centraal Station, it is the ideal place for a wannabe bike thief to go virtually unnoticed.

Enter the squeak.

I bought the cartoon dog horn several months ago for several reasons, practical and otherwise.

On the practical side, it helps me locate my own bike quickly in a sea of bikes. There are, perhaps unsurprisingly, very few white squeaky plastic dog horns adorning the handlebars of Amsterdam's cyclists. But this little dude had stood faithfully for months now, letting me zero in on his location quickly and efficiently.

On the intangible side, I decided to approach things strategically a few months ago; with almost everyone sporting a bell that rings at various levels of aggression in order to get people to move (trust me - a bell being clanged repeatedly right behind you on a bike by a cranky Amsterdammer is on par with a car horn bleating at you in your own vehicle while you are stalled in an intersection), a horn that sounds like a baby's bath toy is infinitely more pleasant. And more successful.

So why not defuse the everyday bike traffic situation by giving people (usually tourists) a little ee-oo instead? For months now, I have been able to delight these visitors while simultaneously getting them to move the hell out the way. It's been a win-win. A Schwinn-win, even.

In happier times

Anyway, back to the guy. Evidently, before biking off he wanted to take away any obvious markers, so the dog was the first to go. But little did he realize it was a squeaking dog, or that the squeaking dog's owner was standing there about 5 steps away.

So in short order he rips it off, the dog goes ee-oo, and I hear it, incredulous that my bike is right in front of my eyes. He is struggling to balance his bike with one hand while riding mine, and I dash over and pull the back wheel of the bike up.

It's a guy's bike, with the bar of the frame right there, and he is forced into a rather uncomfortable position. Suffice to say, at this moment we are both feeling testy.

He falls to the pavement, with both bikes clanging to the ground and some 100 onlookers wondering what is happening. I yell at him, something along the lines of "Hey man, this is my *(%@$#! bike" and he turns around, peering out from under a hood that was thus far obscuring what turns out to be the sad, sallow face of a junkie.

With his hands up in the international symbol for Ref, I didn't do it even though I clearly did it he says "Hey, I just bought this off a guy, I didn't know it was stolen."

Note that I was in the bookstore for maybe 10 minutes tops and certainly this was not enough time for the bike to have its lock picked, be stripped its removable parts, and then sold to someone else. So I doubted him.

I then said "I'll give you three seconds before I punch you in the *(%@$#! face" and he scooted away on his other bike right away, gone forever into the shopping and cycling masses.

Adding to my doubts about his innocence, I figured if he had just bought it from someone else, I highly doubt he would have let me threaten him into giving me a bike by words alone.

To be fair, I'm not sure I would have punched him in the *(%@$#! face, but it sounded impressive and sufficiently tough. It all happened so quickly and unexpectedly that I didn't think of all the things I could have done, but the end result was satisfactory.

In hindsight, maybe it was his sad, impoverished face that held me back from bopping him; or maybe it was the fact that he was the same height as me and I'm just not that tough; or perhaps it was the new jacket that I had on and didn't want to ruin. I'll never be quite sure.

In any event, I have my bike back and am very thankful that somehow this idiot decided to bike directly past the spot where he stole the bike from 10 minutes earlier.

Alas, in all the excitement, I forgot one thing. The dog horn.

Squeak on, little buddy, squeak on.

Sigh.

Zeeland

As we wrap up the Netherlands' Late Summer Series, let's take you to Zeeland. And let's imagine all of the following vividly in our minds, as it seems the photos taken from this day are lost forever on a wayward memory card.

Zeeland (pronounced zay-lond) is a region that lies in the southwest corner of Holland, a claw-shaped collection of islands and small towns and endlessly awesome stretches of big beaches.

Even before we got there, we had stopped in Rockanje, technically not part of Zeeland but of South Holland. A very quiet beach town only one hour's drive from Amsterdam, Rockanje (Rock-Kanye), this was the perfect place to park it on a very wide, long, and tranquil beach.

A few beach clubs with big decks facing the sea and some posters of DJ shows alluded to a more active summer life there, but on this day in mid-September there was a ton of room for everyone, including one ecstatic dog.

After a few hours of sun (I heard earlier this week that August officially had 3 days of sun in total, so this day provided a healthy 33% increase), it was time to head further south.

Zeeland lies mostly below the sea, a fact which contributed to a terrible flood in 1953 where nearly 2000 people died. As a result of that tragedy, the massive engineering project known as the Deltawerken (Delta Works) began to keep the sea out. You can read more about the werken and the flood here.

It's very impressive to see the dams in action, as you drive over them or even step out of the car to have a better look. It's this same ingenuity that has people from around the world calling in the Dutch when they want to manage a water issue (the beaches and bays around Malaga, Spain for example, were engineered by the Dutch to control the waves and erosion).

Onwards it was, one more hour's drive from Rockanje (so two hours' total from Amsterdam, for those of you keeping track) to the nicest town I've been to yet in Holland, Domburg. It was loaded with nice houses, restaurants and shops. Though not many web design companies, it seems.

The Franco-Belgian influence is easily seen here, with just that little bit extra put into storefronts, pastry shops, and food preparation. Domburg also has huge dunes lining the long coast, beyond which lies the kind of soft sand that you expect from the Caribbean. But if you want a quick reminder that you're nowhere near it, dip your toes into the frigid North Sea.

Zeeland is a revelation, a great place to spend a weekend, and yet another great break from the city right around the corner.

Texual Healing

The open road along the coast

Still scarred - or soaked, rather - from this year's non-summer in Amsterdam, I was keen to grab whatever sunshine remained as fall loomed nearby. Enter Texel.

Texel (pronounced "tessle") is a small island north of Amsterdam, part of a Dutch archipelago that extends towards Denmark known as the Frisian islands.

Why would one head north, fresh off the beaches of Spain a week before? Well, the forecast was for a balmy 24 degrees and pure sun, and hearing so much about the peaceful plains of Texel made it a must-visit at some point.

There are special sections of the train for cyclists, so it's easy to get there right from your front door. A 90-minute train ride through some very nice Dutch countryside is followed by a 15-minute cycle to the ferry, which leaves every hour/half-hour, depending on the season.

Awaiting the ferry

No smoking on the ferry. And apparently, no hula hooping

What is it about ferries that reduce one to about 11 years old every time, running from port to starboard and bow to stern to catch the sea air and watch the wake? I don't know, but it's good stuff.

Rolling off the ferry and into Texel, it's quickly apparent that biking is the way to go. You can bike all over the island on special paths, stopping in any small town for a break or venturing into the dunes along the western coastline.

Not many places left in the world where you buy some roadside potatoes and just leave your money in a container

An artist doing serious justice to the nearby dunes

You will bike a lot here, probably for 4-5 hours over the course of a day, so make sure you have a comfortable seat. (*Guys - a good seat makes a vast difference for your vas deferens). The island is also very exposed to the elements, so be ready to bike into some headwinds.

Each town is marked by a number of small cafes, and the bigger spots have a nice collection of shops and restaurants to choose from. In between the towns are stretches of 3-10kms of farms and open fields.

The island does have a very therapeutic effect from city life, with huge skies and long sections of bike paths that skim the sea. I imagine it is pretty bleak in the winter or in the rain, but on a warm late summer day, Texel is definitely worth a visit.

Postcard

Postcard from Summer Camp

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm writing to you here from my bunk here at Camp Amsterdam. The rain is steadily falling outside, and I've lost track of the days. Not because I'm having fun - I just mean the rain has caused day and night, weekend and weekday, to blend together into one summer-long washout of wetness and greyness.

Does that sound a tad melodramatic? Yes. And certainly with all the terrible news going on around the world this year, I have no real complaints and still keep things in perspective for the most part.

But back to the weather. Seriously. Dude. I didn't realize that a season could have social anxiety. The number of times that the mercury has crept up above 25 degrees and the sun has sustained its shine unimpeded for an entire day can be counted on one hand. Maybe just one finger, if you get my drift.

There was a weather warning issued yesterday, making it the sixth time this summer this has occurred. July's rainfall was the largest in over 100 years, and so far August is saying "Oh yeah July? Watch this."

Teasing sunshine and ominous clouds make for nice pictures but not nice picnics

Rain on the sunny patio. Best five minutes of the day.

9:30am August 26

A 20-minute downpour produced big flooding. Hopping off the bike and taking shelter is a regular occurence

Amsterdam is renowned for its summer festivals and big parties, which makes it even tougher to handle right now. August in particular is loaded with outdoor cultural events, movie nights, concerts, and performances in the park. Nothing beats a sunny day lounging in Vondelpark or sitting canalside watching the world go by. Aside from the heartiest party-goer however, most people have opted to stay in.

Speaking of hearty, most Dutch people I know are just as fed up as I am. There are a few - refusing to wear jackets or insisting on going ahead with a planned outing - who are fond of the local expression "C'mon, I'm not made of sugar, I won't melt." But these people are idiots.

It's not only me suffering. Across the city, bikinis sit idly in dark closets, waiting for their chance to bust out. All men, overflowing with the need to ogle, are forced to content themselves with surreptitious, doleful glances at bus stop ads for Axe body spray.

And how about the other casualties? There are cases and cases of 2-for-1 suntan lotion in bins everywhere; overstocked beer is going for 9Euros for a case of 24. Sugar-encrusted Slurpee machines are losing their ability to slurp. Fans of Ke$ha are barely getting slizzard.

So, as September approaches and the leaves begin to change already, I will put away my milky white legs for another 7 months until the real sunshine comes out in March. Till then, say hi to summer for me, enjoy a barbeque or two, and instead of food please send blankets and self-tanner.

Love,

J

Pluk de Nacht

Imagine, if you will, a warm, buttery evening of no wind, no rain, and an open-air film festival along the waterfront. You spread out a small blanket, crack open some wine, some bread and some cheese with a few friends, your neighbours on all sides doing the same, from a cozy but comfortable distance.

Then imagine that you are experiencing the ONLY warm-ish evening of an otherwise abysmal summer for weather, and a few thousand people are hoping to capitalize on the same welcome atmospheric aberration.

You would then be at Pluk de Nacht ("Pick the Night"?), an annual 10-night film festival that boasts free entry (unless you donate a small amount for one of the coveted beach chairs ahead of time) and a cool selection of critically-acclaimed films.

Ours was something featuring Philip Eatmore Often, the thickening thespian. Since he won Best Actor for Capote in 2005, I don't think he's been resting on his laurels - he's been eating them.

Too bad we never found out the name or heard one moment of the movie. Arriving 45 minutes before nightfall (about 10:15pm), the crowds were massive. A small patch of grass/sand with a partial view of the screen and being surrounded by a crowd that was too far removed to care enough to be quiet ensured that this movie was not going to be seen. Too bad - it looked pretty good.

The atmosphere was nice, and still it is a cool setting and concept. It just doesn't have enough space and the climate rarely co-operates. I'm finding out that there's a reason most of the Netherlands heads out on vacation in August.

As for the next time I'm feeling Plukky - lesson learned. On the one warm and dry night of August, I'll arrive extra early, reserve a beach chair close to the screen, and warm myself further with some vino and hopes for a better September.

Film-goers with no chance of hearing the film. Sorry, I can't explain the random door wedged into the ground.

Vedett is the beer of choice at the event

This was our (disad) vantage point

Some plucky youth tried to get the upper hand on a prime spot. They were booted off about 10 minutes later.