Adventures in Amsterdam
Day 2.58333 (Easter Sunday, April 5th): Proost!
Sunday was a long day. Oh, here are some pictures I forgot to include in the previous post:
After a tranquil morning, I decided I had to see the Vondelpark and the Hotel Filosoof before I met up with Sabrina and Nayantara at 1:30 pm.
Once again, yes, I was picking my sights to see in Amsterdam based on a YA novel. But John Green has good suggestions. I headed down from the Anne Frank House to the Vondelpark, which is in the southern portion of the city. And it's freaking huge.
Of course, because it's me, it's very easy to get distracted.
Amsterdam is sure winning the Weirdest Museums category for cities.
There was always something that surprised.
In my quest to make Ulysses my Flat Stanley, I found this shop and decided to accost a random passerby to take my photo in front of it. I wonder what these people think of me...
And just to drive my point home, I zoomed in. Though this was more for the benefit of me being annoying on our online class forum.
Lately I've been playing Where in the World is Ben & Jerry's? Turns out Amsterdam is on that list. Look, my dad's from Vermont; I've been to the Ben & Jerry's factory (in fact, the marble counter tops in the bathroom come from my dad's hometown). This is totally not weird.
"C'est la pigeon, Joseph."
But right, right, the Vondelpark:
Well, what I first saw was kind of anemic and disappointing. But oh well. I didn't have time to mope: I had a tight schedule to keep. So I decided to seek out the Hotel Filosoof, where I totally should have stayed if my parents loved me enough to keep me from spending time with red-rimmed-eyed dudes arguing in a hostel bunkbedroom.
But we'll get to that later.
Well, I was having a hard time finding the Filosoof, but I did capture some more random pictures:
The people here are great, if this picture couldn't tell you that.
It turns out Anna Van Den Vondelstraat is not the same road as the shorter Vondelstraat. It was an honest mistake.
Yay! Success!
I was practically drooling as I wandered around inside. A concierge desk! A kitchen! Clean bathrooms! Books! Lounges! A patio! At this point I was sad that I couldn't stay here, but I knew it was too expensive. By later that night, though, I had decided that selling all my belongings and moving to the Filosoof might be the solution next time.
But like I said. We'll get to that later.
Since I just finished a paper on Rodin's Thinker, I just love this sign. This hotel has a good sense of humor.
The best part was that the concierge wasn't a jerk. If you try to take a picture in a hotel lobby in the States, you get not-so-kindly kicked out. That's mostly why I've had to adopt my ask-for-forgiveness-not-permission attitude when it comes to snapping photos. But it turns out Europeans don't give a damn. You can just wander into a hotel, even ask for a tour, and they will most likely oblige you. Now THAT'S hospitality!
Once again, I bothered a poor woman walking by to take a photo of me with my book in front of the hotel. Because, you know, I'm vain. And I want to prove that I'm a dedicated fan. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to utilize the zoom, so I had to crop them:
But yes, I did take selfies originally, in case the cropping didn't work out. I need to be put in the stockades.
Oh, before I forget: random photo time!
"Freudian Sips: When you say one thing and really mean your mother." (The box said that, not me.)
They've got all the good finger puppets here. They even have George Washington. You can't even find a George Washington Little Thinker in the United States. This just seems wrong.
We soooo need these for our dorm room next year.
HAHAHAHA, oh, if it were only that simple. The sign should say: Become your own Pygmalion!
Once again, European advertising taking advantage of the wonderful words already at their disposal.
Back to the narrative!
So after my pictures at the Filosoof, I looked at my watch and cried, "Oh no! I'm going to be late for my meeting with Sabrina and Nayantara! Whatever shall I do?" (If you couldn't tell, I'm joking.) But seriously, I did feel like the White Rabbit:
I took a shortcut through the Vondelpark, but yet again, I got distracted. Because now I had found the pretty part, of course.
When I finally tore myself away from taking pictures of bridges, I was on my way to the restaurant when I came across this field where the van Gogh Museum is.
Oh, and the American Embassy.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Willard! Get your shit together!"
FINALLY I made it to the restaurant. I was late. Well, I guess I was going to become European at some point; they would be proud. Luckily, Sabrina and Nayantara were very forgiving. After a strange meal that involved them forgetting to give Nayantara her drink for 30 minutes, we headed off to the Heineken Experience (not "Museum") for a boozy tour.
This sign needs to be EVERYWHERE in Amsterdam.
Now, despite the name "Heineken Experience" and their attempt to disassociate from learning, there were many interesting things. The videos were incredibly cheesy; honestly, it was like being in a kid's museum because of them. But I guess people don't really want to read signs. They don't really want to watch videos either, but I guess it's kind of harder to ignore, especially when you're just lolling around.
One fact I especially liked was that like three days after Prohibition ended, cases of Heineken were delivered to the United States, because we just couldn't wait to get wasted, I guess. The Oatmeal expresses the sentiment better here.
So yeah, there were definitely opportunities for silly photos:
I had to do this picture because it had a windmill and tulips. How more Dutch could I get? (What I actually wanted to do, however, was the couple's cut-out. "But, Willard, you don't even have a boyfriend!" as my cousin Joe has said, though admittedly to Kristina and not me. Well, I would've just Photoshopped my face into both ovals. Then I could've made some snarky comment about how all couples look alike. Alas, it wasn't meant to be.)
Unsurprisingly, Sabrina and Nayantara were much classier and more mature than me when taking their photos.
This poor guy had to give the same spiel about what ingredients go into a beer. We heard the last half of his presentation when we first entered, so we had to stay around for it again. And so we got to hear the same jokes told again. Must be like Groundhog Day for this poor bastard.
Anyway, he spoke very passionately about hops and yeast and water and the special Heineken ingredient that we couldn't know because then he'd be out of a job (cue laughter). Then he mentioned that beer tasted great and the only reason some of us (i.e., girls) don't think so is because we take baby girly sips instead of chugging down the glass like a man. Apparently the chugging allows you to experience the flavor. And the taste of vomit about an hour later.
Admittedly, this is a common misconception, but I couldn't help it.
By the way, at this point during the "Experience," we started to notice that there were a surprising number of children. Now, they are rather lax about alcohol in Europe, but I don't think they are that lax. So why would you bring your children to an activity in which the ultimate goal is to drink beer? It seems like a waste of 18 euros, as the price is hefty because you get two drinks at the end of the tour.
This ride was kind of fun. It was very sensory, kind of like those Honey, I Shrunk the Kids! or A Bug's Life shows at Disney. We got to "pretend" to be brewed. It was fun but hard to enjoy completely because A.) the video was even cheesier than the introductions at the beginning and B.) there was a worker sitting in the corner watching us the whole time, and all I could imagine him thinking was, "These people look like fucking idiots. Hahahaha."
The last time I recall playing Foosball was with my China 11 friend May years ago. So it was cool to see a table again. Even cooler was the fact that nobody was at it, so Sabrina and I decided to try our hands at a friendly competition. Our strategies mostly involved a lot of cheating, like spinning the handles around and bumping the table. An elderly couple was observing us with great amusement. Well, at least it was fun for us and for them.
After the whole Brew Ride, we went into a room where the guy telling the same jokes was there. Strange. He had beers waiting for all of us, and then proceeded to quiz us on what we learned. I mean, why? I hate even when school trips do this. We all know no one learned anything at the museum (except to break the rules by buying stuffed dinosaurs--but that's a story for another time). Luckily, we were on the ball. He was handing out beers for correct answers, and I shouted something out the same time as Sabrina. He gave the drink to Sabrina. He probably knew I could not handle more than one.
Sabrina and I decided to see who could chug the beer the fastest. Hey, that was how we had to experience the true taste, right? Well, Sabrina won, needless to say. I was dizzy for the rest of the time. Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh.
Yes, there is a Heineken endorsement in Skyfall, which is kind of strange because later James Bond just drinks his standard "shaken not stirred" martini. But yeah. All those pictures on the poster are not actually in the movie Skyfall. And the Heineken bottle appears in the beginning for like a minute. So I don't know why this poster was here.
They had several activities that you can only convince people to do after they've had a few drinks. I guess I would take advantage of that too. So these guys were singing karaoke, and on the video screen, they were all sitting in a boat together. I figured they wouldn't mind having their picture taken.
Some more kinetic activities involved these screens where you can make fireworks by waving your arms around. I waved my arms around like a madman and it didn't work. Sabrina stepped up and it immediately started working. She thinks it was a height sensor thing. One of the downsides of being short: machines don't think you're a person capable of making light shows on a screen.
Then there was a game where you had to pour your beer like a pro. Actually, I can do this: we served beer at the FAMILY amusement park I worked at for some inexplicable reason. And customers were forever moaning about all the foam in my cups, so one guy took matters into his own hands and showed me how to properly work the tap so that minimum foam and maximum alcohol (and happiness) would come out. Sabrina did a good job here, but the game told her she didn't pour like a master. :( How rude.
If you've ever wanted to see the evolution of the Heineken bottle, well, here it is.
Nice to see that advertising was just as inexplicably sexual as it is today. (When I say that, I know perfectly well why it's sexual. It's just that the advertisers don't even care to make the ads make sense. Are you selling the beer? The underwear? The model? You've got to clear this up for me.)
Yeah, there were creepy Wallace & Grommit (?) style puppets. And that's not even the worst part: apparently these are scenes from an actual claymation documentary (yes, apparently that's a thing) about the story of Heineken. Needless to say, we did not buy one. We don't like to have nightmares involves miniature dolls with soulless eyes.
Lots of emphasis that Heineken is the champion of soccer. Instead of, you know, the players. Or the game. Or the fans.
The signs moved as you walked across, so naturally, I skipped around in an effort to break the programming. It didn't work.
No, I would rather fall asleep. You try walking around Amsterdam all weekend.
Now with your ticket bracelet thing, you could either get two free drinks or one free drink that you pour yourself. It seems abundantly clear to me which is the better option.
This is the point where the place became dirty, wet, and sweaty, and so now I know what being at a bar late at night is like without having been to one yet. So yeah. Heineken Experience teaches you about life!
Strangely, the three of us were rather tired by the end of our visit. We wandered around trying to find something to do--a boat tour, a Dutch restaurant. Well, the boat tours were leaving too late, and Sabrina and Nayantara had to get to Schipol. So we ended up eating a a tapas place, and it seems that at any tapas place, it takes forever to get served. We kind of all slouched down as we waited for our food. It's nice to know you can be exhausted with others. Some people expect you to entertain them all the fucking time. But we all realized that we needed a moment to chill.
It's anticlimactic, but it's just what I needed. You see, after I said goodbye to the two of them, I did some more walking around before heading back to my hostel.
I was sitting on the bed charging my stuff--you know how annoying it is to have to sit near all your stuff to make sure no one can grab it?--when this guy enters the room. Okay. I had discovered the night before that the rooms were coed. Now, my sensibilities were not damaged, but I was just thinking, Hey, it would've been nice to have a head's up about this on the website.
Anyway, all the people in the room that night were new, so some of them attempted to chat. Unfortunately, one guy did not chat, and I'm sad to say that I wish he had. Instead, he just casually takes off all his clothes--not his underwear, thank god--and gets into bed. Um. Okay. Is it against someone's personal rights to make a law that states "You must not unclothe yourself in a public space where it's clear that not everyone is okay with it"? I don't think so. I was in the room, but so were about three other girls. This didn't seem to bother him, but it sure bothered us.
We used the strategy of pretending he wasn't there to cope.
But the tale gets stranger! Another dude I met earlier walks in, and his eyes are all red--clearly he had been biding his time in the Smoking Lounge That Is Not For Cigarettes. He then starts yelling at this guy who has no regard for whether others are okay about him taking off his underwear. Why? Oh, apparently Rude Underwear Guy was sleeping in Italian Red Eye's bed. (I'm not being racist; this guy told me he was Italian.) None of the girls were saying anything, not even me.
But you all know I definitely was thinking of something to say, and in my perfect world without the damn l'esprit d'escalier screwing everything up, I would've been like, "Dude, I think you should let this one go. Do you really want to sleep in this bed? This guy is wearing practically no clothes under these sheets. Think about germs and hygiene. I would even let this one go, man."
Eventually, Italian Red Eye did let it go, as I think the yelling was harshing his mellow. (Do people say that anymore?) As I was recounting this story to Alyssa, she observed that it must be hard to take anyone seriously. Yep.
Oh, and during the middle of this ridiculous exchange that seemed straight out of the pages of a bad, raunchy teen comedy, I had to get my suitcase ready. Since they weren't moving, I just kind of went to my locker and unpacked my suitcase in between them as they "fought." So awkward. And I've been through many an awkward situation.
This was the point where I decided, Okay, I am ready to go home. What a shame. But I think that situation can put the damper on a lot of fun things.
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