Into Amsterdam

The ride from Rotterdam into Amsterdam was only about an hour long on the express IC Train. The ticket was included in the 77 Pound rail-boat fare from London. I found an ATM machine at Amsterdam Centraal, got some Euros, then boarded the Metro for Amstel Station. I strolled the nearby Amstel Canal, the river that flows into Ij Bay from the south. The city of Amsterdam and its network of semi-circular canals were built at the river's mouth during the early 1600's.

 

I was hoping to run into Helmut, an Austrian friend living somewhere in the area. He worked at one of the small boatyards during the summer months then wintered in Southeast Asia. Cafes in the area tended to open rather late as it was after 10:00 when I found a place for a sidewalk coffee along the wide canal.

The owner of the Amstelstroom hadn't really opened yet but sat in a chair out front sipping his own cappuccino. He was happy to  bring another cup and chair. We chatted while an employee moved chairs, benches, and tables into the morning sidewalk sun. The man was looking to sell the bar-restaurant and retire to Thailand.

 

 I had Helmut's number but figuring out how to use a public payphone was rather complicated since instructions were all in Dutch. I finally stopped at a sports store/gym that was open and dumped a pocketful of unfamiliar coins onto the counter. The helpful clerk made the call for me and I met Helmut back at Amstel Station.

 

From a faded blue door next to an antique shop, steep and narrow stairs led to his second floor apartment.

Panels of white particle board divided the flat into two rooms. Furnishings were modest but comfortable: a couch, reclining chair, kitchen table and chairs, a few shelves, and Helmut's small stereo system. He traveled light too. A small bathroom had been added to a back corner where an undersized sink, gas stove, and fridge were located. Painted wood floors creaked. Sunshine spilled through cracked windows which overlooked a tree-filled back yard. A small rooftop with a plastic chair could be reached by climbing out a kitchen window. Its back legs were cut to make a somewhat reclined seat on the sloping roof of rotting timbers and tarpaper. The place had character but the three hundred year old brick building was slated for demolition in the coming months. The third floor was already vacant.

 

As we prepared to head out to one of the local bars, the brothers Albert and Robert arrived.

They were the owners of the flat and informed us that we would have to move out tomorrow. They had another for rent, newer, which was not far away across the Amstel Canal.

 

We walked about twenty minutes through a primarily Turkish part of town then through a nice park to the Brouwerij't Ij which was a popular pub near the junction of two smaller canals. (Don't ask me how to pronounce that!) Its attraction was shaded outdoor tables beneath the turning windmill which housed its small brewery. We sampled each of its beers ranging from 5 to 8% in alcohol content  but passed on the 9% brew. All was good.