Philp Levin - Doctors Dreams: African Trip - Blog 2

African Trip Day 2

September 23:

At times Amsterdam’s constant cloud cover, hovering just at building top level, dips down, and you feel like a fish, breathing the thick humidity. Buildings with seventeenth century cornerstones hover over well-lit alleys, grandfather guardians of a realm as full of commerce today as throughout Netherlands’ centuries of world domination.

From the seventeenth into the nineteenth centuries, though the British claimed to control the seas, the Dutch controlled commerce. They were, for example, the only country allowed to deal with Japan for over a hundred years. The King of France went millions of livre in debt against loans from the Dutch.

Today that spirit continues with Amsterdam the tourist city. I walked down a back road, the well-lit alley mentioned above, passing a dozen cute boutique restaurants, each and every one packed with locals, some of the eateries tailoring to the sophisticated, another a local brewery with $15 chicken meals (only thing on the menu). On the main roads the tourists mill like flocks, from young multi-pierced explorers with ragged backpacks to families on a holiday from Munich, Singapore, or San Paulo.

I settled into a Mexican Restaurant I’d seen on my earlier explorations. With about two score seats, the half empty establishment had a floor to ceiling alcohol display and little crystal chandeliers over the bar. The waitress, a big-boned, ponytailed Dutch thirty-year old, had a happy smile and pleasant attentive service. Not to say eating European style is quick. The couple at the table before me were just ordering their main courses by the time two hours had passed at my spot.

Mexican food in Amsterdam holds little resemblance to the Tex-Mex Americans expect. Yes, the labels and ingredients are the same, enchiladas served with spicy long-grain rice and whole deep mauve beans, but there the similarities diverge. For the Entradas I selected Sopa Mejicana, a delightful dark roué holding beans, tortillas, and many unknowns. My entrée, Enchiladas Vegetarianos, offered three soft corn tortillas filed with cheese, avocado, pineapple, and corn. Thick and tasty, one could sit and savor this meal for hours, a relaxed repaste while drinking local beer and typing a blog. For Postres, I’ll choose Misterio, a cake of layers of biscuits dipped in coffee liqueur and chocolate mousse, served with a truffle and whipped cream.

My father used to say one could judge the quality of a culture by the museums they maintained. I’ve always loved art, as those of you who’ve seen my home could testify, so a museum becomes a natural destination for me in any foreign city. Amsterdam hosts dozens of great ones, and today I chose the Rijksmuseum. Opened in 1885 to consolidate several art collections in the area, the structure contains 80 rooms, with 800 years of art – a veritable Louvre. One whole arboretum, as big as a cathedral, hosts Rembrandt. The Flemish Masters provide gallery after gallery of incredible masterpieces, in a well-annotated museum where each picture has a twenty-line explanation and some of them have large laminated illustrated cards with (literally) circles and arrows and a paragraph about each one. The exhibits are lined up in time sequence, per century. The 17^th century portraits offer incredible imagery with subtle hidden messages. The eighteenth offers bright landscapes and war scenes in ten-foot high panoramas. The nineteenth century brings industry and impressionism. Then, hidden away in a small three-room attic, the museum has embarrassingly placed their twentieth century work. Yes, they SHOULD be embarrassed. So-called “Modern Art” alternates children’s scribbles with pornography and war scenes. Yuck. Oh maybe I should tell you what I really thought?

Though Americans haven’t noticed, the U.S. economy actually is in pretty good shape. Though certainly not the roaring hyperinflation of the 1920s or 60s, or even the gung-ho enthusiasm of the 80s or early 00s, it’s solid and growing. In contrast, Europe remains in the doldrums, with a consequent drop in the value of the euro by over a dozen points since my last visit. Though not cheap, it’s reasonable, with today’s three-course meal running only 25 euros ($30). There’s no tax on anything, well, taxes are built into the price so when the tag says 20 euros, you pay 20 euros, not a 7% added on tax creating enough loose change jingling in your pocket to drive you batty. The people don’t expect tips either. The British rarely tip at all, though here a modest 5% tip is appropriate. By the way, the Netherlands has been the world’s diamond capital for centuries, just in case you’re in the market.

Seemingly all the natives speak fluent English, from waitresses to fellows lounging on the street willing to give directions. The Dutch language is harsh and rolling, though one gets the feeling one can almost understand it. For example, the sign on the bus read, “Houd uw kaart hier,” meaning, “Hold your card here.” And fast food runs amok. One chubby fellow walked by munching from a huge paper cone full of fries topped with chocolate.

Transportation in The City of Canals comes in a multitude of forms, autos being low on the list. Bicycles predominate, well, not as much as in Peking, though second in my experience only to China. Finding a spot to park your bicycle rivals searching for a car spot in NYC. Rentals are everywhere, including the walk-up pensión in the Red-Light District where I’m staying that rents bicycles on street level. The train from the airport to downtown central cost me five euros ($6) and took 20 minutes, just enough time to make friends with a Dutch fellow sitting across from me (he had an unusual medical condition in his finger). Around the town I love hopping on a bus. For 7.5 euros, about $8.50, one can purchase an all day pass, providing access to everywhere. Mostly though, I walk, for there’s nothing like a stroll through a big city to get an understanding of its people (and its restaurants and bars).

Speaking of bars, unique to the world (western U.S. States excluded), Amsterdam has legalized marijuana. First off, let me say categorically as a Mississippi licensed physician I would never, ever, NEVER sample marijuana in any of its forms. Okay, be sure that’s on record.

On previous visits I witnessed the explosion of “Coffee Houses,” seemingly one on every corner, making the most of an industry set free with willing clients across the Euro-Zone. That fad has faded, and though tourist spots still abound, I had to ask my hotel clerk directions to a subtler place. Only out of curiosity you understand.

He directed me to “De Dumpkring,” a spot on a back street featured in some American movie or other (he proudly told me, though, of course, since I never watch television or go to movies, it might have been Mary Poppins for all I knew.) In a soft music, smoky atmosphere, a dozen bar customers sat around, some with big glass pipes, enjoying the taste of the day. A smoke runs four euros, a cake seven-fifty. NOT that I would sample any. Ever.

And by the way, the Mexican desert I mentioned a bit ago, the one with the whipped cream and the mousse and the coffee liqueur soaked biscuits, yeah that one, it was every bit as good as it sounded. Even better.

Hope you enjoy this scattering of photos. Tomorrow I’ll be in Nairobi, capitol of Kenya and the largest city in East Africa. I’ll be met by friends and we’ll go out for some Kenyan food and entertainment. So, hope you enjoy the blogs.