Lost in Amsterdam

Gotta love when your job takes you to Europe and you have the chance to extend your business trip into a few extra personal vacation days.  This happened some years ago when I was in Brussels for work. Ernie joined me there. We decided to do a day trip to Amsterdam.  Neither of us had ever been there before.  But we bought a Rick Steves guidebook, read up about it, and put together an itinerary for the day. 

Ernie being Ernie, the very first stop on our itinerary was the coffee shop.  The coffee shop where people don’t go for the coffee.  They go for the pot.  Not the coffee pot. Just the pot.  As in weed, mary jane, grass, doobies, joints.  Back then, this was a big deal because in the US if you wanted to smoke pot, it was very illegal, not available as a medicinal, and you needed to “know someone”.  The chance to smoke legally was almost as intoxicating as smoking itself.  I surmise all this, because I don’t smoke.  But I could see the glee and excitement emanating from my husband. 

We emerged from the Amsterdam train station and started to make our way to the coffee shop, the first stop on our itinerary for the day.  As we were following our map, and yes, an actual map as this was pre-smart phones with GPS apps, we noticed that the street names in Amsterdam had a lot of letters in them and the letters all looked very similar.  Like, the only difference might be two letters between one street name and another.  Rumstrattangord vs Rumstrattangard for example.  Somehow we managed to find our way to the coffee shop.  I hung outside taking in the sights around me while Ernie was inside sampling the wares.

When he rejoined me, our next stop in our itinerary was brunch.  We had previously identified where we would have it and just needed to find our way there. Out comes the map again and we started walking.  However, it wasn’t long before we found ourselves struggling with the street names.  Not only were they really long and similar to each other as previously noted, they were also kind of high up on the buildings.  So you are really straining trying to read them.  Is that Martelaarsgracht? Or Martelaarstraat?  

At this point, we have wandered for awhile and were clearly lost and had no idea how to find this restaurant.  But Ernie, being high, was laughing trying to pronounce the names of the streets.  I was laughing because he was laughing.  So there we were, two lost tourists, holding a map we couldn’t follow, doubled over laughing. 

This was the scene a lovely young woman who was pushing a baby in a stroller came upon.  Somehow she knew we were American and in her Dutch accented English kindly asked us if we needed any help.  We stopped laughing long enough to say ‘yes, thank you!’ and told her that we were trying to find this brunch place but were lost.

She said, “Oh, if it’s brunch you are looking for, follow me.  I’ll take you to a great place, one of my favorites.”  And with that, we followed this lovely lady with a baby in a stroller, who escorted us to the coolest little restaurant. We thanked her profusely and she gave us the warmest smile and said, “My pleasure! Enjoy!” and with that she and her baby went on their way. Enjoy we did. The meal was delicious.

Ernie and I were kind of dumbfounded.  We both said well, that is something that would not likely happen in Philadelphia.  In fact, if someone in Philly saw tourists doubled over with laughter with a map, they’d likely yell at them, “Yo! Whatsamatter with youse guys? You got some kinda problem or something?  Knock it off and get outta here” or something along those lines.  Certainly, there would be no, “May I help you” nor “Oh follow me I know just the place”and go out of their way to take you there.

At any rate, following brunch, we ambled about in Amsterdam, met up with a friend and his partner who lived there and took us on a canal ride, and enjoyed the rest of the day, still marveling at the kindness of strangers.

As we got into the train for the ride back to Brussels, Ernie pulled out a muffin.  His little ‘to go’ treat from the coffee shop for the ride home.  I looked at him, laughed and said, “Really?’”  At least we knew where we were going when we got back to Brussels.  When in Amsterdam, I guess?