Amsterdam: Kinetic Energy, Memorials, Movement, and Memory
Updated: Aug 10
As the title of this post should make clear, Amsterdam is energy and for me it is synonymous with movement. Reflecting upon our trip to Amsterdam, my memories are inevitably filled with frantic kinetics. People are moving. Cars and trucks, moving. Water, flowing, and boats moving. Trains and trams, canals and rivers, everything and everybody moving. Constantly and claustrophobically. Amsterdam, it goes without saying, and yet I shall, is amazing and beautiful. A gem. But, for this weary, wise, and worn-out wanderer, it is also exhausting. I love Amsterdam.
I will ask for you, dearest reader, to remember that I just referred to Amsterdam as a “gem.” Please take note that I did not call it a “hidden gem.” That would be ridiculous. I joked that I was going to title this blog entry something along the lines of “Amsterdam, the Hidden Gem of Europe,” but my dignity disallowed such drollery, and I am not a click-bait troll. Yet. I will even go so far as to say there are really no “hidden gems” in this low-land lapis lazuli of a city. Everything is known. It’s all been documented, discussed, and debated. I will simply share our joy in experiencing Amsterdam. There may be mention of the “big” sites like the Rijksmuseum, Dam Square, and the Anne Frank House (all now mentioned), but there may also be mentions of some places that struck my own personal fancy and tickled my own weird pickle. Shall we begin? Grab some herring, sit back, and enjoy.
Speaking of herring, around the corner from the Anne Frank House (which everyone should visit) and in the shadow of Westerkerk, one will find a Nieuwe Haring stand that sells, well, herring. I have mentioned these perfect pieces on paper plates in prior posts (see Haarlem), but I will reiterate: get some. Every chance you have. Get some herring and gulp it down. It comes with diced onion and sliced pickle, and it’s the perfect street delicacy to eat on your feet. I had much of it in the Netherlands and will have even more on our next visit.
A few meters east of Weterkerk and said fish stand, directly on the Keizersgracht canal, is the Homomonument. It’s dedicated to people who lost their lives due to their gender identity. It's a small, inconspicuous token to LGBTQ+ martyrs and worth at least stopping by, pondering, paying respects, and bearing witness. It’s on a small, triangular jetty with a few steps. You can go right down to water level and have a peaceful moment of contemplation. If you wish.
Besides Homomonument, Amsterdam is rife with monuments and memorials of many varieties. Some of the most powerful are the Stumbling Stones. These four-inch brass plates are embedded into sidewalks throughout Europe and mark the locations where victims of Nazi oppression lived. The stones have the name, birth and death date (if known), and the words "Here Lived" at the top ("Hier Woonde" in Dutch). These are powerful reminders of the fact that actual people lived, loved, and labored before being kidnapped, deported, and murdered by fascists. You will discover them all over the Netherlands, as we stumbled upon them in every city we visited. Look for them. Respect them. Think on them. Remember.
It may be apparent by now that I like to add sites to the itinerary that are simple, no-cost, stroll-by attractions that have historic or cultural resonance. Or perhaps they are randomly quirky and weird. Or all of the above? Sure. Why not? For example, the narrowest house in the Netherlands, at 7 Singel, was a site to behold. Spoiler: it’s narrow.
St. Olof’s Church at Zeedijk 2a has a fantastic pediment depicting a skeleton reclining on what appears to be a large nautical rope with tropical fronds in the background. An omnipresent reminder of Amsterdam’s indelible, often morbid and fatal connection to the sea. And, of course, colonialism.
A short stroll from St. Olof’s, through Der Wallen (the Red Light District), the less-than-savvy tourist will arrive at perhaps the most over-touristed area, overly packed with wandering gawkers: Dam Square and Damrak Street. Bear with me, oh skeptical sight-seer, for a small alley between Damrak and Nieuwendijk called Zoutsteeg is the site of an event rife with naked religious foolery. Literally. The Zoutsteeg is the exact spot where, in 1535, a small group of Anabaptists, whipped into a fervor with the spirit of the nascent Reformation and the words of their fiery preacher, tore off their clothes and then cast them into a fire.
The naaktlopers, as they were called, then ran through the streets of Amsterdam shouting, “Woe, woe, woe! Divine wrath, divine wrath, divine wrath!” An act most certainly replicated in modern times by British tourist bros after late nights in the Red Light District. The original naaktlopers were quickly subdued by town guards, sentenced to death, decapitated, and tossed into the canals. I needed to see the exact alley of prurient impudence and have a drink. So on we went to the tiny, yet proud, Cafe Orporto, ordered a beer and a wine, and toasted to ass-out Anabaptist absurdity. Historical tourism is fun.
A short stroll south on Damrak from Nieuwendijk will take one through Dam Square past the Royal Palace and World War II monument directly into the heart of the most touristy area of the city. A few blocks further south, where Damrak turns into Rokin, you'll arrive at number 78 Rokin. This address is now the Amsterdam Dungeon, an outlet of international “haunted houses” that have sprung up in tourist centers like London, Berlin, and Hamburg. While I have no interest in such modern, money-sucking tourist attractions, I was very interested in catching a glimpse of the site of the creation of Amsterdam as a tourist epicenter.
In 1345, at that exact site, an old fella on his death bed was offered the communion host as part of his last rites. The old codger puked up the Body of Christ. The man’s caretaker was beside herself as to what to do with the holy bilious biscuit, and thus she tossed it into the flaming fireplace. Lo and behold, the host did not burn. A local clergyman was called in, and he took the holy bread to what is now Oude Kerk for safekeeping. Lo and behold, the wafer returned to the scene of the vomit and actually made a return trip once more after being retrieved yet again. Thus a miracle is named! The small house on Kalverstraat (the next street over from Rokin, where the incident took place, and abutting the Amsterdam Dungeon from the rear) is no more. But, smack in the middle of the sidewalk on Rokin stands a 26-foot-tall column that marks the approximate spot of the Miracle on Kalverstraat. News of the miracle was disseminated far and wide throughout Europe, and thus Amsterdam was literally put on the map, as maps in medieval Europe were by and large guides of pilgrim paths for the pious tourist to follow to holy sites. The influx of thousands of pilgrims brought an abundance of trade, with people buying trinkets, souvenirs, pilgrim badges, and other tchotchke. The pilgrims also had to eat and find lodging. Thus, Amsterdam became a tourist city, and we now have Madam Tussaud’s, canal cruises, cannabis coffee shops, and the Amsterdam Dungeon. God works in wondrous ways.
Thus far I've skirted around the existence of Der Wallen (the Red Light District). But it exists, and you should visit in daytime and at night. Do not film or take pictures of people, especially at night. If you must use a camera don't point your camera anywhere near or bother the sex workers or potential clientele. Be cool.
Aside from debaucherous bacchanalia, the Red Light District has De Oude Kerk (The Old Church), the oldest brick structure in Amsterdam. It’s impressive. One of our nights in Amsterdam was spent at an “Irish” bar chosen not for any inherent qualities it possesses; it’s a party bar in a nondescript building at the rear of Oude Kerk fronting the circular cobble street that loops the old church. All the patrons when we visited (after 10 p.m.) were in their early 20s or younger, save our old selves (de oude selves?). We sat outside. It was a near-miraculous evening.
We were content to relax with our drinks and bask in the glory of the 800-plus-year-old building and the busy buzz of the Red Light District. Actually, it was a rather calm night for the area, all things considered. The cobbles on either side of us were glowing crimson from the lighting emanating from the sex workers' storefronts, and a large apartment complex sat anonymously on the corner. This all created a near-surreal vantage of church, nightlife, prostitution, and family life all within one small space. It’s remarkable, this Red Light District. The fact the full moon rose over the top of the majestic steeples of De Oude Kerk while we sipped our libations made it even more memorable. Those moments at that nondescript pub (it’s called Irish Pub Slainte; it was fine) adjacent to sex work and the spiritual is one of the most indelible memories from Amsterdam. So yeah, go to the Red Light District. Just be cool.
A few short strides from De Oude Kerk, one will come to Trompettersteeg, the narrowest alley in Amsterdam. The inlet for the alley is next to "The Bulldog The First" cannabis coffee shop, which is the first Bulldog that opened in Amsterdam. It’s not the first cannabis coffee shop in Amsterdam (that would be “Mellow Yellow,” which opened in 1972) but rather the first of this chain of cannabis coffee shops in Amsterdam. It will be impossible for you to miss seeing Bulldog store fronts around town. They are everywhere! This one was opened in 1975. We did not go in. I took a picture. We came for the star attraction: Trompettersteeg.
We walked down the alley. It’s narrow. It used to have a plethora of prostitutes poised and positioned. Due to certain regulatory efforts attempting to make for a safer environment, the sex workers' storefronts were moved from this narrowest of alleys. It’s pretty nifty. At about three feet wide, it’s definitely not for walking abreast while holding hands.
Speaking of a breast, I would be remiss to not tell the reader about The Breast Plate, a piece of guerrilla art that appeared nestled into the sidewalk cobbles outside De Oude Kerk in 1993. The artist has remained anonymous (save for having a dialogue with the Amsterdam city council to preserve the artwork), and the piece has remained in place, a mere 40 meters from another important piece of public art, the Belle Statue. This bronze sculpture depicts a woman, hands on hips, maybe wearing a skirt or perhaps mostly naked save for the high heels she wears. She stands tall and proud in a doorway atop some stairs, obviously a woman at work in a storefront like those that exist in the Red Light District. The sculpture was created by Els Rijerse, and the inscription on the piece reads, “Respect sex workers all over the world.”
Neither the Belle Statue nor The Breast Plate is meant to be sexy or titillating. I've read that The Breast Plate was created to draw attention to human trafficking, but I cannot confirm that. The best I can offer is the adage, “Sex work is real work,” and that yes, indeed, one and all should respect sex workers. These pieces are excellent examples of Amsterdam’s vibe and flavor. They are fun, compelling, thoughtful pieces that also give way, for the ponderous and thoughtful Red Light visitor, to meaningful and interesting conversations about dignity, exploitation, safety, and sex work. They are Amsterdam. And I love it! And you will too when you stop by them for a visit. Remember, just be cool.
Lest you start to believe that we spent all of our time drinking and poking into alleys and art in Der Wallen, I will now point the reader east. We walked from our hotel in the Jordaan neighborhood all the way across central Amsterdam to the very furthest tip of land where the Cruquiuskade, Zeeburgerpad, and Nieuwevaart canals converge and the mighty fine windmill De Gooyer stands. On this trip we saw windmills in Haarlem, Utrecht, and Amsterdam, so our craving for old-timey turbines was sated. We decided not to travel to one of the windmill parks that serve as excellent backdrops for Instagram reels and opted instead for being amazed by urban moulins. Our pedi-trek took us by the modern marvel Nemo Science Museum and the Maritime Museum with the perfectly replicated tall ship Amsterdam, which is worth seeing. The ship is impossible to miss, and even if you don’t visit the museum, seeing the brightly painted, full-scale model moored in the harbor is quite something.
We continued eastward, along the Wittenburgergracht and Oostenburgergracht (the same street that changes names at some point, for some reason), and got to look at all the houseboats moored canalside and watch the owner-occupants busily maintain their abodes. We had heard that living in a houseboat was hard labor, but after walking by a few dozen of these boats and seeing so many people working mightily at upkeep, we became believers. It seems romantic to live on a houseboat in Amsterdam, but after witnessing the busy boat beavers, I have resigned myself to not do so. I will simply enjoy the view from afar.
We saw a bicyclist hit by a motorist (the biker was ok), which in retrospect is surprising. It was surprising, as we only witnessed one such accident in Amsterdam. The number of bicycles in constant movement next to and within traffic and pedestrians begs for more collisions. I am happy it doesn’t happen more often, as the Dutch seem to have an odd, self-loathing attitude toward bike helmets. Like, come on! Wear helmets, my beloved Dutch friends. I digress. We arrived at the grand windmill, took pictures, and took a coffee at Cafe Struis, situated right at the base of the De Grooyer Mill. It was pleasant. I can think of worse ways to spend an afternoon than drinking a canalside coffee underneath a windmill in Holland. In fact, most things are worse. This experience is near the top of experiences I have experienced.
After our windmill repast, we backtracked a bit toward the Artist Plein Park and zoo, although not to partake in either of those surely splendid sites. We headed toward the Dutch Resistance Museum, or the “Verzetsmuseum,” directly across Plantage Kerklaan Road from the Artisplein. If you have read any of my previous posts, you might have come to the realization that I am not fond of fascism. In fact, I am quite against it. If you have not read any of my previous blogs, I'm not fond of fascism and am quite against it. Thus, I had to pay a visit to a museum dedicated to the brave souls who struggled mightily against the five-year Nazi occupation of the Netherlands (May 1940-May 1945).
It hit hard upon entering the museum’s exhibit that we stood under large Nazi banners. The red, white, and black, complete with swastika, was actually somewhat frightening. I realized I had never been in a space that had Nazi banners hanging. It's powerful. It was packed with meaning, and I understand why they chose to open the exhibit in such a way. It's shocking. It's repugnant. It's an important reminder that all throughout Amsterdam and the Netherlands in general, people lived and labored under these banners, which were everywhere. They were stark symbols of the threat of violence that awaited anyone who dare resist Nazi power. Yet people did resist. Thousands upon thousands of people struggled to fight Nazis and save people from arrest, deportation, and certain death. This museum is a testament and memorial to those people. Everyone should see it.
At the time of our visit, the museum hosted a temporary exhibit dedicated to Josephine Baker, the U.S.-born dancer and singer who made France her home in the 1920s. During World War II she was such an important figure in the French resistance that it could be argued that without her efforts at espionage and subterfuge the Allies may not have won the war. While she was mainly active in France, this exhibit was nevertheless apt and interesting. I had read and studied a considerable amount about Baker, so being able to see some of the artifacts on display was an incredible treat. They even had the famous (infamous?) banana skirt she wore in the early 1920s while performing her Danse Sauvage. Amazing!
The permanent collection at The Museum of Resistance requires a lot of reading and has pieces dedicated to various individuals and organizations and the equipment they utilized. Seeing a real printing press that created broadsheets, newsletters, and newspapers during those times was something special.
The museum has a small section dedicated to Hannie Schaft, a young resistance fighter active in Haarlem who was arrested and executed only months before the fall of the Nazi regime and the occupation. Hannie holds a special place in my heart, having read a book dedicated to her and seeking out her memorial statue in Haarlem upon arriving in the Netherlands.
Overall, Verzetsmuseum is a must-see, but it's intense. I would suggest having a few light-hearted and whimsical activities to bookend your visit. Mental health for the historically minded traveler is important, dear reader.
There is a unique neighborhood sculpture garden, Mahatma Gandhi Plantsoen, down the block from the Resistance Museum. Or, one could walk through the nearby Hortus Botanicus and meander among the foliage in a fine botanical park. Regardless, have a pleasant day. But also, learn from history.
After departing the Resistance Museum, we headed toward De Dokwerker, a monument to the only general labor strike specifically against Nazi atrocities towards Jews that occurred in occupied territories. On our way we walked through Hortus Botanicus and the Weirthemepark, which also has a Holocaust and Auschwitz memorial. De Dokwerker is across the Nieuwe Herengracht canal and stands on an open plain next to the historically significant Portuguese Synagogue. The synagogue dates all the way back to 1675 and was used to hide many important Jewish ritual items during the Nazi occupation. Guided tours of the interior are offered, but we did not partake. We saw the outside, and that is a profound treat nonetheless.
De Dokwerker is a strong, stout man. He takes one stride forward, his arms slightly out at his waist, and his hands open to a point where it looks like he could pick up tools, hoist rope, or operate machinery. His chest is puffed out, and he gazes slightly upward. He is bold, fierce, and unafraid.
A friendly solo traveling woman was also inspecting and photographing the powerfully proud plinth. We shared the space with her while discussing the significance of the art. Which, come to think of it, is precisely one of the purposes of public art. Memorial and remembrance for certain, but also community and conversation. We are lucky and pleased the meeting occurred on our visit to De Dokwerker.
I would be remiss if I ended this long blog without mentioning one last tempting tourist trap to which we ascended. A’Dam Tower is a moderately tall high-rise in Amsterdam Noord across the IJ River from Amsterdam Centraal train station. It boasts a rooftop lookout 22 stories above Amsterdam. While the entry fee may discourage some people (€16.50 as of this writing), it’s worth the price to get a 360-degree view of one of the world's most gorgeous urban expanses. The river, the canals, the magnificent Amsterdam Centraal, the churches, and all!
The hyperactive movement of Amsterdam is slowed from the aerial vantage, but one nevertheless gets a real sense of the kinetic energy that makes the city run. It’s such a breathtaking view that I think even residents of Amsterdam should take the ride up and check out their city from the top. These kinds of attractions should be free for residents of the city. Milk the tourists and give the common people of the city the opportunity to enjoy these attractions gratuitously.
The observation deck is a classic, modern-day tourist enterprise, complete with a gift shop, a small bar on the roof, a restaurant, virtual reality machines (you can ride a roller coaster over and around Amsterdam, apparently), and a swing that hoists and hurls the gutsy guest over the edge and 100 meters above the city. We partook in none of these. We had to take the elevator to ascend the tower, and the only word to describe that hellish ride is, with all dripping irony, is “rad.” There is a seizure warning for epileptics outside the elevator, and it is needed. The ride is very fast, and the entire car is filled with “rad” music and “rad” flashing neon strobes that fill every single aural and visual sense with sensual garbage. I hated it. And we had to ride down as well. It’s pretty bad but also funny and a memory that will live forever. Unfortunately.
We visited A’dam Lookout on a cold, misty, blustery night. Nevertheless, it was a spectacular panorama over beautiful Amsterdam. To get to Amsterdam Noord from Amsterdam Centraal train station, all you have to do is hop on the free ferry that goes back and forth across the IJ River 24 hours a day and at such frequency that if you miss one, there will be another in a few minutes. It’s a free, four-minute, site-seeing spectacular. The ship was packed when we rode in the early evening. All manner of people, bicycles, and even some of those wee-little, single-occupant automobiles stood, parked, and jostled for space on the deck of the mighty watercraft. Be warned if you are claustrophobic. It’s fun though. It’s utilitarian for Amsterdammers, and being Dutch, it’s a no-nonsense ride. Don’t expect merry-making or tom-foolery. It’s a commuter ride for most but a treat for the titillated tourist. Like me! If you aren’t going to climb the A’dam Tower or explore Amsterdam Noord, I still recommend taking the ferry at least once. It’s something special.
Tailor your Amsterdam experience to your wants, desires, and tastes. I hope the non-hidden gems of Netherlandese goodness I've shared help with your lowland explorations. Be prepared for the sensory overload of movement and energy that Amsterdam encapsulates. Remember to take a breath, relax, and enjoy the mundane sights and sounds around you. Explore beyond the Red Light District and Rijksmuseum, and there is obviously much more than what is in this blog. Heck, I didn't even mention the building on the corner of Singel and Haarlemmerstraat with the angel on top that served as a constant landmark to find our way back to our hotel in the Jordaan neighborhood. But that's for another time, because this long, exhausting post is at its end. Go forth and be cool.
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