And Now...

The party is over. At least for today.

The collective mood in the hours leading up to the World Cup final on Sunday, July 11 2010 was so upbeat, so crackling with positive energy that it didn't seem possible that Holland could lose.

The streets and parks and bars were jammed, smiles everywhere, orange even more everywhere (sorry - my English also has a hangover).

Impromptu conga lines, the most amazing outfits ever conceived, and after a brief ominous grey lull, a sunny and clear late afternoon and evening - all this meant that some 2+ hours prior to kickoff, I already felt that I had experienced one of the greatest days of my life.

The day moved from cycling and soaking up the scene to meeting friends and witnessing Leidseplein's happy madness, moving through and boogying with the masses at Museumplein (singing K'naan's World Cup anthem with 100,000 = pretty awesome), and then settling in with friends at a packed neighbourhood pub for the game.

It all made the ending somewhat more bearable, really. It was like filling up the gas tank with so much enjoyment that there was still some left after it all. The loss was less crushing than it was deflating, numbing, like the air coming out of a big orange balloon.

And as much as people were hoping to share an all-inclusive party, there's some comfort in sharing a common sadness too.

Game notes:

• The two teams both had their chances - Robben with the two most glorious ones. Fitting that they played in South Africa - it's true that no man is an island, but I bet Robben wishes he were on one right now.

• For every complaint that Dutch fans may have about the number of yellow cards handed out, they're extremely lucky that de Jong's boot to Alonso's chest wasn't immediately a red.

• The Oranje had every chance to win this game and played very well against a more talented Spanish side. Let's hope that the next chance comes sooner than 32 years from now.

Everyone was primed for a party - and wow can the Dutch party. And they don't stay down for long - biking home through a peaceful Vondelpark after midnight, I came across a group of about 25 Oranje fans holding an impromptu dance party right there on the pathway.

You can feel the country's sadness today, and my heart goes out to lifelong Nederlanders and the players who did the country very proud.

But with a terrorist bomb killing over 70 people watching the same match in Uganda, perspective (and a reminder as to how lucky we are) is sadly always close at hand.

Museumplein 3:30pm

Leidseplein 4:30pm

Leidseplein 4:30pm

Museumplein 6:oopm

Gameday

The goosebumps have started early. Some 8 hours remain until kickoff.

Officials are expecting over 100, 000 on Museumplein tonight, and the masses are gathering already. The temperature is a deliciously muggy and sunny 28.

Tuesday, win or lose, there will be a massive celebration honouring the team. Win - and there's a long parade through the canals of Holland's capital city, culminating in a celebration on Museumplein; Lose - and the parade is not happening, but the celebration on the 'plein will go ahead as planned to welcome the team back.

This is a once-in-a-generation event - it's been 32 years since Holland last appeared in a World Cup final, and it could well be another 32 years until they do so again. Think of the odds: 180+ countries start the quest for the Cup every few years, and only 2 make the final.

Game-wise, it's a match-up of styles, somewhat similar in terms of ball control, somewhat different by virtue of upbringing - the Spanish, more emotional, fiery, dynamic; the Dutch, more stoic, measured, though no less passionate about the game.

My prediction? Dutch squads, long guilty of over-confidence (and losers as a result), have found the perfect opponent. Spain is so good, so deep, that you simply can't get over-confident. They are a natural humility pill.

But the Netherlands wins it, 3-2. Coolness reigns over fire (although you'd better watch your head, van Persie). Dirk Kuyt nets two goals for the Dutch as the Spaniards focus all their efforts on stopping Sneijder and Robben.

I feel very fortunate to be here for the experience.

Hup Holland Hup!!

History in the Making

Spain vs Netherlands. The Eighty Years' War between the two countries, aka the Dutch War of Independence, went from 1568-1648. The Ninety Minutes' War goes this Sunday at 8:30pm.

So while the bad blood between countries has been diluted by some 362 years of peace, the excitement is mounting in the days leading up to the big match.

Some other interesting perspectives regarding Spain and the Netherlands:

• The orange colour sported by the Dutch dates back to Willem van Oranje (William of Orange), who was the main leader of the Dutch revolt that kicked off this war. He was also known as William the Silent. He also often had gastric problems, upon which occasions he became known as William the Silent but Deadly.

• Neither team has won the World Cup before.

• Holland's last appearance in the finals was 1978; Spain has never made it.

• Spain is currently ranked number 1 in the world football rankings, Holland number 4. Gabon is 42nd. Canada 63rd.

• Spain is famous for many things, including the running of the bulls. The Dutch, never keen to admit they don't know something, are famous for the running of the bull---t.

More facts to come as the weekend devolves into a haze of celebrations, heat, and a once-in-a-generation event for both countries.

Finally

That wild-eyed look? A mixture of joy and fear

This is turning into a Dutch opera. With heroes like the fantastically named Giovanni van Bronckhorst, assorted villains like Diego and Robinho, a steadily rising plot line thick with tension, and a rapt audience of millions, the only thing still left to be decided is whether it ends in operatic tragedy or joy.

Last night's Netherlands vs Uruguay match raised the bar again - not so much for the quality of play, where the Dutch still haven't put on a complete 90-minute effort - but in terms of passion on the field and in the streets of Amsterdam.

A brief summary:

• The venue was a small neighbourhood pub, with outdoor screens and the best seats in the house thanks to an Aus-some friend. The gezelligheid of watching the game as though you were sitting on your front porch with 100 friends in a cozy neighbourhood is undeniable.
• The Dutch dominated the play early, with some decent chances on offense and the defense relieving the opposing players of the ball as easily as taking candy from an Uruguayan baby.
• I wonder: What's it like, Giovanni, to score one of the greatest goals in World Cup history? That shot will be replayed for the next century.
• The Dutch let up for some reason and after 20 minutes straight in the offensive zone, Uruguay ties it up. Uruguay - Forlan. Dutch - Forlorn.
• Halftime - a quick stroll down the block in search of food. Chicken sates with peanut sauce. Magnifique.
• A nervy second half with two more excellent goals by the Dutch, and some unwanted close calls in the waning moments.
• The choppy ending to the game, with the referee obviously owning a side business in Holland selling heart medicine and defibrillators, kinda mutes the celebrations momentarily. But then...
• A 5-minute walk to Museumplein to check out the madness before hitting the town. (Videos of the scene have been made and posted to YouTube... for some reason they are not working however. Tips are welcome as to where else I can post them, as they take forever on this site. I will update with a new post once they are viewable).

Even Beesie was nervous before gametime

Our seats

Time to water the tulips

The Dutch are in the World Cup Finals since 1978!

Bye Bye Brazil

The Boys from Brazil met the Heren van Holland in the quarterfinals this past Friday, and the result was simply one of the defining moments of Dutch soccer.

I started the search well-before kickoff for a suitable spot and somehow turned into Goldilocks:

• Too hot: Museumplein - standing in the direct sun for 2-3 hours, likely behind some very tall people? There must be better options.
• Too cold: Cafe Quinto, a small neighbourhood pub that looks fun as it is jammed inside and out for games. Brutal service before even sitting down. Did not feel like giving them money for the next 3 hours.
• Just right: the venerable Barca once again, with loads of screens, a great seat and even better scenery.

Some numbers:

• 32 - forecast high temperature in Amsterdam that day
• 24 - forecast high temperature in Rio that day
• 56 - coincidentally, the sum of the two above numbers and the approximate temperature inside Barca at kickoff time
• 30,000 - estimated number of fans on Museumplein, watching on the big screen. Watch the reaction here as the final whistle sounded, filmed by someone who clearly went to the Blair Witch Project school of film. Still awesome, however.
• 3:59 - the players line up at midfield behind a banner saying "Say No to Racism"
• 4:11 - how about saying "no" to Dutch defensive lapses? Brazil scores an easy one and things are not looking good as the favoured South Americans dominate the play early on.
• 4:30 - a third pitcher arrives at the table, clearly in an effort to stave off dehydration as the temperature inside is insane.
• 5:10 - Dooeeeelllllpunnnntt! Ok, so it has nowhere the same cachet as "Goaaaalllllll", but still. 1-1 tie.
• 5:24 - the Dutch are really owning the Brazilians in the second half, and Kuyt's brilliant header pass is sent on to Sneijder's bald dome, and he knocks it home. Two heads are indeed better than one. The sound is deafening and joyous and I am typing this with goosebumps at the recollection. 2-1 Netherlands.
• 5:29 - red card for Brazil's Melo, who is anything but as he angrily stomps on Robben. Enjoy the Red Card District, Felipe.
• 5:30 and on - large, booming cheers of "HOLL-AND" clap-clap-clap, "HOLL-AND" clap-clap-clap ring through the entire bar as the excitement builds towards the fantastic finish.

When the final whistle blows after a few more nail-biting moments, the place erupts. (*Note - the quality of the video-making might be due to an impaired operator or poor camera - you decide).

We poured outside right after and grinning, slurring, joyous conversations were had for a few hours, before an exceedingly well-timed pizza and quiet at a friend's apartment nearby. Wow.

Tuesday could be another memorable night, as the Netherlands face a weaker but still dangerous Uruguay. Stay tuned.

And for the more involved football fans, some thoughts below on the team itself:

• Robin van Persie may yet redeem himself, but he is choking quite badly. And with his jittery insecurity/arrogance and lack of smarts, I wouldn't be surprised if he puts Holland in a very bad position before this tournament is over.
• Keeper Maarten Stekelenburg looks rock-solid and should give the Dutch added confidence.
• Wesley Sneijder is in top form - he and Arjen Robben are reasons alone to think that the Oranje could win it all.
• Those who really know the game here say that midfielder Mark van Bommel is the best player on the squad so far.
• Dirk Kuyt is the everyman's hero, well-loved in Holland for his work ethic and unassuming nature - a big contrast to the many outsized egos that make up much of the rest of the crew. And he is playing some fantastic football.

An ingenious red and yellow card system, helpful for those times when the challenge comes from speaking

Intermission

Note the superior Dutch sock in contrast to the measly Brazilian flip-flop

Post-game outside Barca

Post-post game carnage

Dios Rio

Ok, now onto the main course.

After dining on Danish, Japanese, Cameroonian and Slovakian appetizers, the Dutch football team is getting ready to tackle Brazil this coming Friday.

Watching the Slovaks go down 2-1 from a packed and humid bar on a sunny day here in Amsterdam, one could feel the buzz from the crowd well before kick-off.

It was somewhere in Leidseplein, teeming with non-descript bars and people and heat. By the start of the game, I was sweating my vuvuzelas off. No complaints here though - it was fantastic, with the long-overdue heat and that odd smell of a bar during daytime hours adding to the whole atmosphere.

The crowd erupted with a beauty by Arjen Robben within the first 20 minutes, and with almost total control of the game they sealed it with a Kuyt to Sneijder doelpunt later in the second half.

Prime seats

The game was a typically austere Dutch effort, doing just enough to win and being largely devoid of flash. These are supposedly the same people who invented a long spoon-like thing to scrape out the very bottom of a jar, so it seems fitting that there was no wasted effort.

Post-game, we squinted our way outside like bats from a cave and walked into a mass of singing and dancing youth, the whole scene a sea of orange. A mellow evening barbeque in the park with friends capped off a fine day to be in Amsterdam.

Inside - drama. Outside - tram-a.

Plein and Simple

Rembrandtplein. Leidseplein. Museumplein. Thorbeckeplein. Bos en Lommerplein.

When you are in Amsterdam, the pleins are, well, pleintiful.

Essentially a public square lined on at least three sides by various establishments, each one has its own flavour to a degree (Leidseplein is the tourist ground zero, where people from everywhere but Holland go to cut loose; Museumplein is less barfful and more artful, and so on) but the ones located within the inner rings of Amsterdam will see a heavier dose of tourists than those in the 'burbs.

While you won't see any pieces of art at Rembrandtplein, you will no doubt see some pieces of work. There must be no fewer than 20 bars, cafes and restaurants all next to each other, and come midnight packs of locals and buitenlanders alike are lit up like the Time Square-esque signs that ring the large square.

It was here at the Aussie-themed Coco's Outback that I decided to set up camp for game 2 of the Netherlands' quest for the Cup, this time versus Japan, with a prime spot for Australia vs Ghana assured right after the first match.

Guinness, good service, and kangaroo burgers. Not an authentic Amsterdam experience, it would seem.

Then again, the plan was to see how the event differed in an expat-heavy crowd, in contrast to game 1's almost pure Dutch surroundings. And it seemed to be the right spot - my bench neighbours were from Canada, the States, Australia, South Africa and Romania, and even the server didn't speak a word of Dutch.

But the crowd as a whole turned out to be quite Dutch, with as many ooohs and ahhhs and football chants as anywhere. Kudos to the expats as well - while maybe not as vocal, they were decked out in plenty of orange and into it enough to add to the atmosphere, not take away from it.

The weather, however, was pure Netherlands, alternating between summer and winter throughout the 90 minutes. If the Bavaria beer girls were here, they would have needed longer skirts. Girl-illa marketing, indeed.

The seats and benches were packed outside along the entire stretch of bars, and the TV's were protected from the elements with effective, if low-tech, shelters.

The place exploded with Wesley Sneijder's booming goal at the 53-minute mark, in what was an otherwise tame affair. With the win, the Dutch clinched a pass to the next round, ensuring at least 2 more games as things start to (hopefully) heat up around here. Next game report comes later in the week, from an Amsterdam house party.

Real Nederlanders? Or tourists? What's your guess?

Summer arrived at the start of the game

Winter arrived at about the 50-minute mark

Eerste Dag

June 14th, Netherlands vs Denmark - the first day of the Amsterdam World Cup experience. And as far as initiations go, it was a pretty good one.

I headed - via trusty two-wheeler of course - to the bustling neighbourhood of De Pijp. Specifically, to Marie Heinkenplein, a not especially touristy residential and commercial square (more of a semi-circle actually) about 10 minutes from the center of the city. More specifically yet, to Barca, a mildly upscale tapas bar.

I figured if it was full, I had a choice of several other spots right there - an Irish pub called O'Donnell's, and a few classic Dutch spots in De Beiaard and Cafe Kale de Derde.

In the end, Barca was all I needed and then some. Inside it was packed to the rafters with at least 4 large projection screens and a mix of trendy-but-hipster-free guys and girls. Outside were benches and tables and another 4 screens at least. This is scrubbed and clean Amsterdam, not the grittier one (there are at least 2 games left for that).

Average age: 28

Percentage expats and tourists: 10% - ideal for creating a more authentic Dutch atmosphere.

Average height: Preposterous

*Note - if you are going to come late to a pub anywhere in the world to watch football and hope to see the screen, choose a country where your typical male or female is not a giant.

Price of Heineken on tap: 2.50 Euros - quite reasonable

Food: Non-existent.

I was informed by the server that they don't serve food during games. This was a bit of an eyebrow-raiser, but it made sense when you saw the mass of people they had to navigate through.

Vibe: Happy, patriotic, chill, hot, and by about the 30th minute, pretty loaded.

Nestled into one of the few remaining spots outside, I soon got to experience the easygoing openness of the Dutch and chatted with everyone around me. I couldn't see the much of the screen because of the reflection. I'll assume the planners hadn't counted on the sun appearing in the city. But given my more immediate scenery (photos below), I wasn't complaining.

My immediate neighbours were three very friendly med students, one armed with a Hello Kitty cellphone, and another who felt instantly bad for the Danish defender who scored the own goal to put the Dutch up 1-0. Behind me, somehow the bottom of a wine glass broke off. (Did I mention this wasn't a hardcore football crowd?).

Fine fellow fans Claudia, Marielle, and Mirte

Onto the action on the pitch... The Dutch squad came out pretty strong, giving the crowd 4 or 5 "Oooohhh" moments within the first twenty minutes.

The football songs were booming throughout the bar as of the 10-minute mark. These were incomprehensible to me, unfortunately, aside from "Hup Holland Hup, laat de leeuw niet in zijn hempje staan". This means "Hup Holland Hup, don't let the lion stand in his undershirt", as far as I can tell.

After a more worthy strike was scored at the 85-minute mark (by Dirk Kuyt - be very careful how you pronounce his surname here), the Danes were dismissed as expected and the revellers turned the streets to orange, setting their sights on the Japanese on June 19th. I'll be heading to a more raucous area to file the next report - wish me veel succes.

(P.S. Biking home through a sunny Vondelpark to shake off a 3-beer, no-food late afternoon buzz? Highly recommended)

A moment for reflection

Nervy times with only a one-goal lead, until...

...goooaaaallll! Kuyt tallies after Elia's solid effort

World Cup

Ok, folks, some exciting news. I will be covering World Cup 2010 from a Dutch (and especially Amsterdam) perspective on behalf of Lonely Planet, as part of a team of bloggers in various countries under the Lonely Planet banner.

While there will still be some regular (i.e. non-sports) entries on this site, for the next month you will see a definite orange tint to the posts, with a football-mad country and a team that is currently ranked 4th in the world.

While this doesn't mean a trip to South Africa, I will be covering the scene in various hotspots of Amsterdam, from my dual perspective as an expat and as someone with a foot in Dutch culture too.

The Team van Oranje was last a powerhouse in the 1970's, making it to the finals in '74 and '78 but coming up just short each time, including an agonizing last-minute shot off the post that would have won it against Argentina in 1978.

Dutch soccer royalty (fitting since the formal team name is the KNVB, the Royal Dutch Football Association - the Koninklijke Nederlandse Voetbal Bond if you want real street cred) from years past includes names like Johann Cruyff, Dennis Bergkamp, Ruud Gullit, and Marco van Basten - with Cruyff being the mega-royal. You can literally walk in his shoes all over Holland today, as he has his name on his own high-end line of footwear.

Today's big guns? Top-division clubs across Europe have stellar Dutchmen such as Wesley Sneijder (Inter Milan), Robin van Persie (Arsenal), and Arjen Robben (Bayern Munich).

There's no end of off-field drama to be seen and heard of as well, with the customary complicated personalities on the team and complicated rivalries on the streets in this multi-national city. There are 177 nationalities represented in Amsterdam, so I suspect every night will be game night!

And we may or may not see the odd coverage of Sneijder's rather attractive partner, whose name is also rather complicated - Yolanthe Cabau van Kasbergen.

So watch this space for de Dutch details of on-field and off-field action as the world gets ready to go bonkers from June 11-July 11.