Going Dutch

"Roll on up, for my price is down./Come on in for the best in town./Take your pick of the finest wine./Lay your bets on this bird of mine./Name your price, I got everything./Come and buy, It's going fast./Borrow cash on the finest terms./Hurry now while stocks still last.” ~”The Temple” from Jesus Christ Superstar

[Fair warning: These posts are about 90% clean. There is still a bit of smut, and if you want to avoid it I understand. If not, I hope you enjoy.]

April 13, 2013 (Continued)
Pancakes were invented in Holland. Naturally, for lunch, we had to try the tasty treat in its home land. Andy and Jen led us to a restaurant called The Pancake Bakery. The restaurant was very popular and required reservations. Andy and Jen had called ahead and we had a table reserved in the back of the room (luckily, it was close to the heater so we could warm up from the drizzling rain.)

I started with a cup of Earl Grey tea to drink. It was served with a little cookie that Andy explained was called a Stroopwaffel. These are very traditional Dutch cookies. It is made up of two thin, dough cookies, with a thin layer of caramel in the middle. It tasted amazing!

The restaurant served over 200 different types of pancakes. It turned out they weren’t like crepes (those would be French) but instead, the ingredients were cooked into the dough, and then pancakes were cooked paper thin, and as large as a pizza. The big debate I was having was between getting a sweet pancake or a “real” lunch pancake. The banana and Nutella one was calling to me, but I decided to get something a little healthier for lunch. I went with the chicken pancake.

It was fantastic. It basically had chicken and cheese cooked into the batter. It was a little salty and rich, but very filling and flavorful.

During lunch, we talked about our degrees and fields of study back home. I shared my thoughts about going to seminary and we all started talking about church. Like Barcelona, this was a pretty religious group, with denominations across the board. We had both Christians and Jews, Catholics and Protestants. It was fun chatting with everyone and hearing church memories they had.

One of the girls, Liz, was a big fan of Sharon EJGHASF. I shared with her the presentation we’d seen of hers in my HR class. We talked about her book and many of the points she brings up about gender stereotypes in American culture.

Like with dinner last night, we passed around the bill and pooled our money to pay. We had a busy afternoon, so Andy kept us moving so we had time for everything.

When we got outside, we were greeted with the glorious site of sunshine. I was instantly too hot in my jacket, hat, and scarf. It felt amazing, and the city looked even more incredible with the unreal blue sky glistening above.

Crossing over a canal, part of the road on the other side was under construction. We’d walked through a few construction zones last night in the Red Light district, but seeing one in the daylight was different. Repairing cobble stone roads is a funny process. In Prague, I’ve seen it several times. They literally take apart the pieces of the road to access whatever pipes or access points under the city. In Prague (and in Munich) pulling up the cobblestones reveals hollow tunnels under the city.

Amsterdam was different. Underneath the cobblestones was mud. It was a very find mud, almost like wet sand. Boards were laid down so that people could walk across without slipping.

“This is what Amsterdam look like underneath,” Andy said. “Remember, we are below sea level right now, and so the whole city is built on this very fine, sloppy material.”

This part of the canal we were walking along was one of the few areas in Amsterdam where new house boats could be docked. The city has been cracking down on the number of house boat permits since their growing popularity has caused crowding in the canals. It was a great view of the buildings, the boats, and the canals, so we stopped to take a group photo for Andy’s website.

Just around the corner, we came to one of the largest markets in Amsterdam. Unlike the Red Light district that catered to the tourist industry, this market—which extended several city blocks—catered to the Dutch population. It was one of Andy’s favorite parts of the city so he turned us lose to explore.

It really is true that you can buy anything you want in Amsterdam. Beyond the drugs and prostitution, there are foods, goods, and artifacts from around the world in Amsterdam. This dates back to the historical trade routes, but continues to today. There were all kinds of good food, and the Dutch were generous in offering samples (unlike La Boqueria in Barcelona where you could only sample if you were buying something.) I tried some amazing homemade cheese, sweet bread, and strawberry juice. I saw, but didn’t sample, a stand selling homemade pasta. No two noodles—even within the same type of pasta—were exactly the same size or shape.

There were also amazing trinkets for sale everywhere. The hand painted porcelain that is famous from Holland was everywhere (although Andy encouraged us to buy the gimmicky factory made stuff…cheaper and looks identical to the original stuff.) There were people selling fur coats and others selling old eight tracks. There were several merchants selling relics from Buddhism and Daoism. In fact, all sorts of souvenirs from Asia and India were available for sale.

The market was in Westtown, and most of it fell in the shadow of West Church. I decided to duck into the sanctuary to take in a Dutch church. Just a few feet into the church, there were two old women who stopped me. It appears they were the official church bouncers who informed me and my camera that this was “not a tourist church.” I thanked them, and headed out. As I left, I noticed that the layout of the sanctuary looked more rounded than others, with an altar in the middle rather than at the front. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a great view for sure.

Walking through more of the market, there were dozens of stands selling all sorts of flowers. Everything from petunias to tulips, there were rows of potted plants lining one whole side of the shops.  Household knickknacks were also for sale like irons and hair dryers. It was so different from any of the other markets.

Andy had encouraged us to try some Dutch apple pie at the market. He’d pointed out two cafes that he said had some of the best in town. The more cultural experience was on the far end of the market, while the quicker café was close to where we were going to meet. I started by going into the Dutch café, but couldn’t find an empty seat everywhere. The place was so full of people; it felt like navigating the dance floor that night in the Czech club.

The other café had a line out the door, but was slicing and serving the pie at a counter as people came up. I waited in the line and it moved fast. When I got up, I ordered a slice.

“With cream?” the woman asked.                                   

“Sure!” I said. Why not?

The pie was unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. Unlike the apple pie in the US that has candied apples inside a crust, this was more like a cake or pastry bread with chunks of apple in it. It was sweet and rich and super flavorful. The cream was not ice cream, but whipped cream. It was nearly as thick as ice cream though—since it was actually made from whipping literal cream instead of suspended fat in a can.

I sat outside at a table on the patio and enjoyed the pie. When I was finished, I went to meet up with Andy and Jen and the group. I was the first one back and we talked about how beautiful the city was. One thing that is worth noting is the number of bikes. Almost all of the Dutch people bike everywhere. There are bike racks outside of every shop and house. Bikes are chained to nearly all of the bridges and street rails.

“I think it beautiful,” Andy said. “Can you imagine how congested it would be if all these bikes were cars.”

When the group was all back together, Andy explained we had a long hall to make.

“If you imagine Amsterdam like a clock with our hostel in the middle,” he said. “Right now we are at the 9 and our next tour is at the 3, so we need to hustle back over there. We’ll stop at the hostel on the way, but we need to be there in about 20 minutes.”

On the way back, we stopped at the condomeria (I’m pretty sure that’s the official spelling of it.) Pictures weren’t allowed in the shop but the whole thing was quite a spectacle. They had a full size Lego statue of Michelangelo’s David. This is the first depiction I’ve seen of David with an erection.

Inside the shop, they had every color, shape, flavor, texture, thickness, and design of condom imaginable. Next to each was a QR code which could be scanned with a smartphone. Once scanned, it would give user the opportunity to enter an email address. They would then be emailed a printout that could be folded certain ways to measure their penis. By replying to the email with the specific measurement, a pack of custom fitted condoms, in that design would be ready for pick up within 12 hours.

The condomeria was actually only about two doors down from our hostel. We rushed back to drop off coats and then headed across town to the diamond factory.