Autumn in Amsterdam
Amsterdam is one of Europe’s most loved cities. Famous for Van Gogh, Rembrandt, tulips, bicycles, and, of course, infamous for its liberal party tendencies and the red-light district.
Another attraction to visit, for me, was my long-distance boyfriend. He lives in Amsterdam; I live in Madrid. My first real boyfriend, and I’ve decided to go the hardest possible route with a consistent separation of 1,102 miles.
My bae works in finance, and everyone wants a man in finance until you realize you only have a boyfriend about 30% of the week. All this to say, I was adventuring on my own the first day while he was at work. I took the sunrise Friday morning flight to get started on my solo exploration. I was actually excited to practice a solo trip for the day with the safety net of having a man to run to in case of emergency.
I was extremely self-sufficient. I bought my €5.90 train ticket all by myself and knew exactly which stop to take to get to the center. Fifteen minutes later, I was Googling luggage storage near me and storing my overpacked suitcase for the day. Armed with TikTok research I did the week before, I knew exactly where I was going to have breakfast: an old church refurbished into a quaint café called De Koffieschenkerij.
Table for one with a flat white (their specialty) and a croissant (I eat gluten on vacation), I was fueled for the next couple of hours. I proceeded to the Jordaan neighborhood, a charming, quaint place with canal-lined streets that is also home to many historic sites, including the Anne Frank House. I wanted to go so bad. So bad. Unbeknownst to me, the Anne Frank House sells out about six weeks in advance, so my last-minute trip did not provide me with sufficient timing.
Walking through the entire city of Amsterdam, this is what you see: old cobblestone and brick paving the streets between the plentiful canals filled with boats. Some of them are large tourist boats, and others are just locals rowing along in their free time. The canals bring a sense of wild serenity, with large trees cascading over the water, orange and yellow leaves falling into the water in the early October breeze. The fencing along the bridges of the canals is adorned with petunias and pumpkins— the air is thick and crisp with the smell of damp leaves and sweet flowers.
The water is so close that if you were to get too rowdy, you could easily fall in. People park their cars right along the banks, but most people prefer bikes. Bikes line the streets. Bikes are as far as the eye can see. No dramatization, but this entire civilization is reliant on bikes. I don’t think the city could function without them. Bikes far outnumber cars or people in this city, and anywhere you walk, you hear that faint “ring, ring” of a bike honking at you to move out of its way.
Tallying up my step count, I realized I needed a break from the hours of walking and headed to Café George for a picturesque lunch in a cozy bistro café. It was just the atmosphere I was looking for: warm and welcoming to combat the briskness of harsh autumn in northern Europe. I ordered a glass of white wine and a kale and apple salad. I’ve enjoyed many dining experiences alone since moving to Europe, and this was one of the more pleasant ones. I wasn’t on my phone to distract from the fact that I was alone; I was basking in the peacefulness of it.
I was observing the unique strangers around me and taking in the specialness of these fleeting moments abroad where I see myself in my truest form. You see who you really are with no one around, no one else’s eyes to observe yourself from. I spend time with her when she is not performing for any subsequent onlookers—there are no peeping toms in my peripheral; it is just me and my mind, whatever I allow it to create at this moment. Whether it’s gratitude or resentment, we are the deciding factor.
I realized towards the end of my introspective lunch that my phone was dying, and the lovely waitress charged it for me. My phone had to survive until I could meet my boyfriend four hours later, and I still had lots of exploring to do. Note to self: a portable charger is never a bad idea.
I relaxed, gave my phone away, and ordered a mid-afternoon cappuccino. After all, the best part about being alone is there is no one to rush you along, no one else’s needs to cater to.
Refueled, and maybe becoming too reflective after a glass of wine and solitude, I proceeded to the Moco Museum. A close friend of mine recommended this to me. His exact words were not an explanation of the museum but merely, “Liv, I know you; go to this museum.”
And wow, was he right. I was overwhelmed with emotion at the very first collection. Robbie Williams has a mental health exhibition that made me both laugh and cry. To be seen in a museum is for the most vulnerable parts of one’s self to be exposed. To see your deepest thoughts and most vulnerable feelings splattered and displayed on a giant canvas somehow takes the grandiosity out of the sadness. It makes it more palatable to know grief is shared.
Banksy, Keith Haring, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Andy Warhol, and all the famous street artists I only ever dreamed of seeing in real life line the four stories of this intimate art house. I stayed for the digital and immersive art experiences and then finally made my way out of the gift shop (with a new tote bag) and finished with the sculptures in the garden.
After that, I went for a walk through Vondelpark, where I started to really feel the effects of my 4 a.m. wake-up call and 17,000 steps for the day. The park was full of life on the uncharacteristically sunny mid-afternoon day. Bikes, skateboards, children, friends gathering—I could feel myself reverting back to my inner child on vacation when my dad would make us do too many activities before naptime, and I realized I needed a break before I had a temper tantrum.
I found myself walking and walking yet again until I stumbled on Café Americain. Just what I needed: a grand restaurant with 20-foot-tall ceilings filled with chandeliers and unique clocks. I ordered myself a limoncello spritz while I waited for the clock to strike 5 so the reason I was here could join me.
Once reunited with my boyfriend, we went for a lovely dinner at Coba Taqueria in the northern part of the city. The dinner was amazing, and we were both starving. They are known for their cocktails, specifically their mezcal (my favorite). Since last-minute dinner reservations are tight, we had seats at the bar, but it was still a very intimate, cozy experience. The entire restaurant seemed to be glowing in orangey candlelight hues, making for a vibrant yet romantic atmosphere. We ordered many small plates to share; all tacos came with two, and they made two little tostadas for us instead of one large one. Some things were a bit too spicy, but I find that to be a positive indication that you're getting an authentic Mexican experience.
After a few amazing margaritas, we weren’t ready to go home, so we went to the Pijp neighborhood so I could experience the authentic Dutch bar scene. The best way to describe it is very Dutch, very local, and close quarters. Apparently, they drink outdoors in any weather, and the inside scene is more of a “club atmosphere,” but it's really just people belting along to throwback songs and apparent Dutch classics.
The next morning, we lazily awoke for brunch, taking the train into a more central part of the city. We stumbled upon the cutest market filled with local artisans selling art, pastries, clothing, fruits, and vegetables—not to mention tulip seeds and bulbs as far as the eye can see.
We just popped into a local café restaurant for cappuccinos and sandwiches to fuel us for our big museum day. Our next stop was the Rijksmuseum. This massive castle-like structure houses works of every Dutch painter who has ever lived. Walking through was an intensive history lesson on a small country that has managed to conquer a lot. A couple of hours here is great, although one could spend much more.
I was focused on seeing Van Gogh. Most of his works are spread out over many museums in many countries, but his self-portrait is in his home country. You can always tell where the most famous Van Gogh painting is in a museum because it is swarmed by people trying to take selfies with it. My boyfriend/history guide made a point to show me all the extremely famous works.
After a couple of hours in the museum, we needed food, so we found a local café nearby for bitterballen. What is bitterballen? It is a fried ball filled with a mysterious gray-colored goo inside. Made with a roux and generally some kind of meat, then breaded and fried, it tastes delicious and warm, as most fried things do. We continued the food tour to try another Dutch classic food, stroopwafels. A stroopwafel is two very thin waffle-like crackers held together by a thin layer of caramel and then usually half-dipped in chocolate with your choice of toppings. It was just fine. It’s overrated but one of those novelty foods you have to try.
In a moment of generosity, I offered to pay for the ridiculous €11 waffle, but apparently, my bank thought it was overpriced as well because my card was declined. A very humbling moment.
In an effort to cheer up my spirits, we thought it would be a good time to visit the infamous red-light district. In an effort to keep this PG, I will keep it brief. For those who may be unfamiliar, the red-light district in Amsterdam is an area where prostitution is legal, and there are many businesses there that operate under those circumstances. We did not attend any of the shows or purchase any of the novelty experiences for sale, but it was crazy enough just to walk by.
To finish my last night in Amsterdam, we had an elegant four-course dinner at Lion Noir. All courses were the chef's choice, so every dish was a surprise. Our first course was tuna tartare with cherry tomatoes and small mozzarella pearls plated with a pesto sauce. The second course was scallops with seared mandarins, quail egg, and pumpkin purée. For the third course, the main dish, we enjoyed beef wagyu and glazed carrots served atop a soy-based sauce. To finish, a sweet treat, of course: cheesecake with fresh strawberries, one blueberry, and a blackberry purée. I could write an entire article on just the food because it was so divine. The romantic, upscale but laid-back atmosphere made this intimate dinner experience superb.
By the time we finished dinner, it was pouring rain, so we took shelter in the karaoke bar across the street. Unsure at first when we selected this establishment to escape the harsh weather, but once indoors, you are transported straight to the streets of Tokyo. Iconically named Duke of Tokyo, this bar has private karaoke rooms but also has a shared bar/dance floor with a disco DJ playing upbeat, funky tunes. Of course, we had to stay for a drink until the rain subsided, concluding my 48 hours in the Netherlands.
The next morning, there were no tearful goodbyes, just a sleepy Uber ride to the airport. Leaving part of your heart in another city is never easy, but luckily I’ve had much practice in this globe-trotting life. It also helps knowing this will not be my last time in this city—at least long-distance means you get to have a vacation at least once a month.