Amsterdam
1. Cats
Amsterdam cats are not like cats in other places. They are supremely blasè. You see a cat in London and (well, if you are me) go coochie coochie coochie who's a nice kitty then? and you have two possible reactions: a very cold stare from afar, conveying the Who-do-you-think-you-are-human message; or a frantic running towards you with mewings and head-butting and purring and possibly efforts to follow you home.
Not so with Amsterdam cats. You walk into a cafè (the ones that sell coffee, not the other ones, which tend to smell of smoke and Alex doesn't like) and there is a cat sitting at the end of your table, where it abuts the radiator under the window. Eyes closed, chin on paws.
You go coochie coochie coochie. No reaction. Thinking that the cat may be stuffed, you touch him. Warmth, breathing, but still no reaction. You present a finger for sniffing. Cat raises head, sniffs, then goes back to the Napping position. You pet the cat's head between the ears, the cat neither purrs not moves away. Just naps.
It is rather obvious that Amsterdam cats do not lack for cuddles, and have absolutely no fear of humans. Both things made my estimation of the city ratchet up quite a bit.
The cat-in-the-window experience is replicated thousands of times. Cats on the threshold of souvenir shops. Cats sleeping on the table closest to the window (and the radiator) of tapas bar, Argentinian meat restaurants, Ice creams parlors, etc. Cats sleeping around the merchandise in shops.
The top was a substantial male cat, of the typical tabby-with-white-socks Amsterdam color, draped over a life-size stuffed reindeer in the window of an optician's shop. Why would an optician have a reindeer in the front of the shop I don't know; possibly the cat ordered it. A couple of tourists stopped next to us, and conferred amongst themselves: do you think it's real? "yes, he is" I said, "I saw him twitch". Yeah, he twitched, but apart from that the procession of amazed tourists did not faze him one little bit.
2. Dutchalia
Dutch people do not fear or resent stereotyping. The whole windmill-with-becoggled woman done in Delft blue on white ceramic? They have no problem with not only selling it to the tourists but decorating their kitchens, towels, china, etc with it. A good friend of mine was half Dutch, and his mom had a very nice kitchen which at the time I considered delightfully bohemian. It wasn't: it was Dutch. It was cosy, comfortable, aesthetically pleasing in an old-fashioned, wood and some ethnic touches way, and of course it had Delft china tiles on the walls. Not in the sense that they were white tiles with blue design: no, they had the same exact precise windmill-and-maiden sketch as any other tile/mug/tea-towel/can of stroopwaffels/china cow has. The same. Some forgotten artist circa 1810 sketched a few Dutch scenes - windmill, barges on the sail, windmill, couple of beclogged people - and they have been using those plates ever since.
Nor are Dutch people embarrassed about having tulips, and tulip motifs, everywhere. I suspect the cloggs are strictly for the tourist, but I did see a clogg-shaped boat at one point.
In fact, I am not sure there is much that can embarrass Dutch people; it seems an emotion they don't do.
The Dutch sense of humor is a bit, oh, weird. For example, I saw a boat at one point which bore its proud, carefully calligraphed name stencilled on both sides of the prow. The name was "Boat". As I said, weird.
3. Food
Iz good. There is an amazing number of Argentinian restaurant, and a very respectable number of Italian restaurants whose names (unlike what happens in London) seem to suggest a real and close relationship with Italy, including the takeway tiramisu and other sweets shop whose name only made sense to native Italian speakers familiar with English "Da portare via".
I have not managed to have the Riistafel. This is a bit of a sore point because my parents have had a Riistafel quite a lot, because of the aforementioned Dutch mother of a friend of mine, but due to a series of coincidences I was NEVER there when Adele served her riistafel.
When I came to Den Haag for the con I think a Riistafel was an item on the program, but I was somewhere with the Italians and lost it.
I have been scouting possible riistafel places since Thursday, but despite today being a Designated Riistafel day, we were both too tired and only managed to stagger out around ten thirty, a time in which riistafel would have been a waste.
(to be continued!)
Amsterdam cats are not like cats in other places. They are supremely blasè. You see a cat in London and (well, if you are me) go coochie coochie coochie who's a nice kitty then? and you have two possible reactions: a very cold stare from afar, conveying the Who-do-you-think-you-are-human message; or a frantic running towards you with mewings and head-butting and purring and possibly efforts to follow you home.
Not so with Amsterdam cats. You walk into a cafè (the ones that sell coffee, not the other ones, which tend to smell of smoke and Alex doesn't like) and there is a cat sitting at the end of your table, where it abuts the radiator under the window. Eyes closed, chin on paws.
You go coochie coochie coochie. No reaction. Thinking that the cat may be stuffed, you touch him. Warmth, breathing, but still no reaction. You present a finger for sniffing. Cat raises head, sniffs, then goes back to the Napping position. You pet the cat's head between the ears, the cat neither purrs not moves away. Just naps.
It is rather obvious that Amsterdam cats do not lack for cuddles, and have absolutely no fear of humans. Both things made my estimation of the city ratchet up quite a bit.
The cat-in-the-window experience is replicated thousands of times. Cats on the threshold of souvenir shops. Cats sleeping on the table closest to the window (and the radiator) of tapas bar, Argentinian meat restaurants, Ice creams parlors, etc. Cats sleeping around the merchandise in shops.
The top was a substantial male cat, of the typical tabby-with-white-socks Amsterdam color, draped over a life-size stuffed reindeer in the window of an optician's shop. Why would an optician have a reindeer in the front of the shop I don't know; possibly the cat ordered it. A couple of tourists stopped next to us, and conferred amongst themselves: do you think it's real? "yes, he is" I said, "I saw him twitch". Yeah, he twitched, but apart from that the procession of amazed tourists did not faze him one little bit.
2. Dutchalia
Dutch people do not fear or resent stereotyping. The whole windmill-with-becoggled woman done in Delft blue on white ceramic? They have no problem with not only selling it to the tourists but decorating their kitchens, towels, china, etc with it. A good friend of mine was half Dutch, and his mom had a very nice kitchen which at the time I considered delightfully bohemian. It wasn't: it was Dutch. It was cosy, comfortable, aesthetically pleasing in an old-fashioned, wood and some ethnic touches way, and of course it had Delft china tiles on the walls. Not in the sense that they were white tiles with blue design: no, they had the same exact precise windmill-and-maiden sketch as any other tile/mug/tea-towel/can of stroopwaffels/china cow has. The same. Some forgotten artist circa 1810 sketched a few Dutch scenes - windmill, barges on the sail, windmill, couple of beclogged people - and they have been using those plates ever since.
Nor are Dutch people embarrassed about having tulips, and tulip motifs, everywhere. I suspect the cloggs are strictly for the tourist, but I did see a clogg-shaped boat at one point.
In fact, I am not sure there is much that can embarrass Dutch people; it seems an emotion they don't do.
The Dutch sense of humor is a bit, oh, weird. For example, I saw a boat at one point which bore its proud, carefully calligraphed name stencilled on both sides of the prow. The name was "Boat". As I said, weird.
3. Food
Iz good. There is an amazing number of Argentinian restaurant, and a very respectable number of Italian restaurants whose names (unlike what happens in London) seem to suggest a real and close relationship with Italy, including the takeway tiramisu and other sweets shop whose name only made sense to native Italian speakers familiar with English "Da portare via".
I have not managed to have the Riistafel. This is a bit of a sore point because my parents have had a Riistafel quite a lot, because of the aforementioned Dutch mother of a friend of mine, but due to a series of coincidences I was NEVER there when Adele served her riistafel.
When I came to Den Haag for the con I think a Riistafel was an item on the program, but I was somewhere with the Italians and lost it.
I have been scouting possible riistafel places since Thursday, but despite today being a Designated Riistafel day, we were both too tired and only managed to stagger out around ten thirty, a time in which riistafel would have been a waste.
(to be continued!)