Ode to a Bicycle – A Giddy Guide to Amsterdam

The Amsterdam pedal-brake bike is the happiest means of transport in the world. Ever. Audacious? Intrepid or imbecilic statement you may hasten to judge, but hear me out…

I don’t mean just any pedal bike when I make this statement. I wouldn’t want my fervour being clouded by rugged mountain-bikes or poncey lycra-supporting racers. It has to be the type shown.

It’s the type of bike you instantly think of when you imagine “push-bikes along the promenade” and “gay (in the original sense) Sunday afternoon jaunts through the southern French countryside”. We are all familiar with it: simple frame with curved handlebars for an easier lay of the wrist; slender shape which inspires even the most stressed person to kick their feet out and effortlessly roll in glee.

Think about it. What means of transport can compete for sheer, unburdened, un-romanticised, secular rapture?

The gondola? Too much whimsical romance involved, how often do you see someone taking one on their own? Dastardly 18^th Century inquisitors in the hope of catching Casanova hereticizing a nun, a la Jeremy Irons, aside.

The train? Definitely spells adventure but, unless you’re on the Orient Express, it’s often either the cattle-cart or clinical for the average passenger.

The row-boat? Surely a favourite for Oxford toffs but unless you’re fishing for carp you look pretty suspect on your own. Don’t blame me for this stigma, blame society.

You see? Nothing says “joy” like this push-bike! I’m not saying everybody on one isn’t having the worst day of their life. That would be ridiculous. In truth I’d be the last person to extol the benefits of bicycles since the last time I was on one of these tricky little velocipedes I crashed into a wall and limped away with an angry Jamaican woman swinging a handbag at me. However, as much as I don’t want to ride one, I do enjoy seeing and hearing them tinkle by on their merry way to the unknown. And that’s my point!

On his tour of America in 1882 Oscar Wilde was asked why America, which was reeling from the most devastating period in its short history, was such a “violent country”? His was an unmitigatingly Wilde response, “because your wallpaper is so ugly” he said. (Funny and eerily pertinent today, considering the ugliness of their cars. Does the Hummer really deserve a rhetorical question about its worth in society?) Wilde, and his dandy aesthete contemporaries, believed that your general surroundings could deeply affect your temperament and overall happiness. Nowhere is this more evident in my short time of hopping from place to place than in Amsterdam. Yes we all know serene paradise beaches and isolated mountain-tops inspire the deep to become… well… deeper, I suppose, but this is a city! A capital city at that! And this is what sets Amsterdam apart in Europe.

During the day there’s a continual buzz of tintinnabulations and musical dialects sweeping their way through narrow leaning houses and placid canals. Amidst these concentric looping canals are grandiose buildings which intersperse 17^th century charm but never really give the city the extravagance you’d expect from its history. No pomp and parade, not even the hackneyed nods towards its ‘Golden Age’ you get in so many other beautiful European cities desperately clinging to a bygone era in the hope of mentally eschewing current economic pressures. Amsterdam is happy with what it has and it lives in the moment.

Disembarking the train at ‘Centraal Station’ you leave behind the behemoth-of-an-airport and instantly you’re confronted with your first water-block. Ordinarily this watery obstacle would seem a hindrance to a city like any other gargantuan beauty getting in the way of older stunners but instead they open up your view. Whereas in Rome you can’t make out the monuments from the masterpieces, in Amsterdam the canals serenely clear the way for character in droves.

Once within the embrace of Amsterdam’s waterways you can’t help but be faced with the two ‘defining’ cultural characteristics which attract the weird and wonderful from all over the world: Legal prostitution and legal marijuana. The ‘elephant in the room’ for anybody praising ‘The Dam’ to friends. Yes they’re real but there’s also so much more to attract you to this incredible city.

If the sombre, contemplative side of history isn’t what you want in a weekend trip (perfectly understandable) then you can avoid the Anne Frank house and not feel that you’ve actually missed a considerable percentage of the “to do” payload. Make your way away from Centraal station and pass through inveigling bohemia until you arrive at ‘Museumplein’ (I’ll let you guess what’s there.) Catering for artistic tastes of old and new (Van Gogh and Stedelijk Museums) as well as for the artistically uninterested (Coster’s diamond museum and ‘self tour’ will appease the glittering eyes of sparkle-lovers and technical-boffs alike) this square is a must. An expansive free area, in the shadow of Pierre Cuypers’ stunning 19^th Century Rijksmuseum, which is on the main thoroughfare towards the sedate Vondelpark. Between these two grassy enclaves are the suave, tasteful restaurants and cafes which won’t actually rip a hole in your pocket. You’ll notice them because everybody is speaking Dutch and they have to look behind a desk to find an English menu (try the Dutch Apple Tart – a personal favourite and not just after a coffee-shop or two!).

If you want a slightly different city-break experience and you like to take the swish with the Swatch then the Bols Museum is definitely for you. Relaxed isn’t the word. Turning up at the predetermined appointment time worrying about our absentee stragglers I decided to “stall” the tour for a few minutes. At which point I’m told that it’s a “self tour” and therefore we can leave when we like. I love the Dutch!

Once assembled, we potter through the small architectural diamond, (which won the Dutch design award for “Best Exhibition & Experience” in 2007,) and are treated to a few small sensory tests and “didyer knows?” until we push the plush padded portal into the world of GQ and Vanity Fair. Feeling like a trespassing ‘Toby Young’ I floated through the chic suedes and velvets of the sitting areas until I reach the refined, well-stocked bar betraying Amsterdam’s vicinity to minimalist Scandinavia. Inclusive of the price is one fantastically made cocktail (expertly chosen with the help of some failed sensory tests) and two appetising liquors chosen from a plethora of flavours. You will leave this place feeling pampered, merry and confused by the fact that it closes before 6pm and, due to the lack of windows inside, you’re not bathed in night as you would expect!

This is Amsterdam’s USP. Rome, for all its chic sensory pleasures, is still noticeably a capital city. Manic, mad and at times overbearing. Rome is a far stretch from Amsterdam… but not in beauty! Amsterdam’s is the subtle beauty of the Dutch people. A smooth blend of North European affluent history and an understated desire to be contemporary resulting in a filtered flavour of its own. And all of this is defined adequately by the bicycle. Old in design, new in ideal. Simple and classic whilst at the same time embodying all that we hold dear in our modern, green world. Some things really are worth holding onto.

[image from www.beautifulbikes.com]