When Kiran and I decided to visit Amsterdam, I was excited for tulips, canals, and maybe a bit of Rembrandt. Little did I know I’d end up with more giggles than Gogh and more confusion than Van Gogh’s self-portraits! This bustling hub of history and modernity, commerce and creativity, had a few surprises up its canal-lined sleeves.
We checked into this eco-friendly haven called the Conscious Hotel. Right from the funky, upcycled decor to the fact that even the room key felt like it had done a PhD in environmental science, everything screamed “save the planet.” Inspired and guilt-ridden for every plastic bottle I’ve ever used, we set off for a sunny stroll to Dam Square.
Now, Dam Square is a people-watcher’s paradise. It was buzzing with both locals and tourists, everyone basking in the crisp autumn sun. As we strolled along the picturesque canals, I noticed an unusual number of folks peering intensely into the water, poles in hand. “Are they fishing for a particular type of fish?” I asked Kiran, imagining a magical Dutch fish with tulips on its fins.
Kiran, sensing a golden opportunity to indulge my naivety, encouraged me to ask one of the fishermen. So, like the curious traveller I am, I marched over to a friendly-looking man and popped the question. Turns out, they weren’t after any fish but were engaged in something called “magnet fishing.”
“Magnet fishing?!” My mind was racing with images of fish accidentally swallowing coins, only to be reeled in, gutted, and voila—your lost Euros are back! I pictured Dutch families around dinner tables saying, “Oh, look dear, a pearl necklace in my haddock!”
I shared my excitement with Kiran, who immediately stared at me like I’d suggested painting our house purple. “Are you serious?” he asked, hiding his laughter. He then proceeded to educate me on how magnet fishing involves, well, magnets. It’s a way to retrieve metal objects from canals—bikes, old coins, even the odd kitchen sink—not coins swallowed by fish.
As if to prove his point, the gentleman I’d been talking to triumphantly pulled up an entire rusty bicycle, complete with a flower basket. I had to admit, this was a whole new level of treasure hunting!
After my mini educational disaster, we hopped on tram 12, a delightful orange-and-blue caterpillar that slithers through all the must-see spots in Amsterdam. It’s perfect for those like me, who prefer sightseeing without the risk of wandering into unknown territories.
We got off at Koningsplein and headed straight to the floating flower market, Blomenmarkt. The place was a riot of colours, with tulips in every hue imaginable. If there’s one thing Amsterdam knows how to do, it’s tulips—if not metallic fish.
We decided to grab dinner at a quirky café nearby. The walls were a curious mix of botanical prints, vintage bicycles, and random shoes hanging from the ceiling. We feasted on bitterballen (delicious fried balls of mystery meat) and stroopwafels (syrupy waffle heaven), while watching a few folks in the park brandishing what looked like metal detectors.
“Are they hunting for treasure?” I asked, suddenly feeling much more attuned to Amsterdam’s quirks. “Sort of,” said Kiran, suppressing his smile yet again!!. Apparently, metal detecting has become the local hobby for those seeking both exercise and a chance to stumble upon Roman coins or at least a discarded bottle cap.
Our next stop was a futuristic café .It was a robo-café where drinks were made by robots with the finesse of a master bartender. As we watched, spellbound, two bots shook, stirred, and poured our classic Negroni and Singapore Sling. I couldn’t help but imagine our hospital’s Da Vinci surgical robot whipping up a mean Bellini after a long day in the operation theatres. “Why stop at sutures when you can serve spirits?”
As we marvelled at the robotic display, a familiar figure emerged from the kitchen. A “desi guy” who introduced himself as Sharma Ji, the proud owner of this techie tavern. By day, he’s a project manager and by night, he’s overseeing a robo-restaurant! With a grin as broad as a butter naan, he revealed his secret weapon—his chef, a Nepali with culinary skills that could outshine any MasterChef!.
The yakisoba noodles were a perfect blend of flavours, almost making me wish I had a second stomach.
Sharma Ji shared how the Dutch language was surprisingly easy to pick up because, much like Hindi, it’s pronounced just as it’s written—unlike French, where every other letter is just decoration. We shared a laugh about how it felt to integrate into the Dutch society, where people are not just incredibly tall but also extremely athletic.
As we wrapped up our Amsterdam adventure, I couldn’t help but reflect on how this city, with its charming canals and quirky inhabitants, offers more than just visual treats. It’s a reminder of the joy of discovering the unexpected, of laughing at our own misadventures, and of embracing every moment with an open heart.
And as Kiran and I boarded our train back to England, I looked out at the twinkling lights of the city around and whispered,
“Ik hou van je, Amsterdam.”
Here’s to adventures, laughter, and the beautiful surprises life throws our way. Cheers, Amsterdam—you’ve been unforgettable.!!
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