holland, a love story

Let me just preface this by disclosing that I visit Holland once a year. I love the country. Now, I realize how that sounds, but in contrast to popular opinion, I don’t go to get stoned or to visit the Red Light District. One of my best friends, dating back to sophomore year of high school (and the best man at my wedding) lives in the northern city of Groningen.

I just love Holland.

(By the way, travel tips for both cities are all the way at the bottom.)

The people, the infrastructure—smooth, fast, and modern trains, an extensive tram network, the world’s best irrigation system—the food, and the progressivism of the country all speak to me in ways I’ve yet to experience in another nation. This trip was a bit different though. Rather than simply visiting as I usually do, I was coming for my bachelor party, my best friends from New York coming along with me. To boot, my cousins from Brazil would be meeting us there as well. It was one of those trips where worlds would collide in a place I cherish.

One of the reasons coming to Holland is so easy for me is because prices are cheap. I set price alerts on any number of fare-watching apps and wait for them to hit $400 or under for a round-trip from New York City. This was a bit more planned with less flexible dates, but we still found flights under $500 on Norwegian Air, which has a fleet of new Airbuses. It’s a great way to fly international economy on a budget and not want to blow your brains out.

Arriving in Amsterdam at Schipol Airport, we met with Olivier at a cafe in the arrivals terminal as we had some time to kill before checking into our Airbnb. We took our time, getting our stuff together and catching up after over a year since all being together. We purchased OV Chipkaarts, like an Oyster card that works on nationwide trains, which are your best friend in Holland and found a train to downtown Amsterdam. Once onboard, I eagerly awaited the reactions from my New York friends as we sat in a high-speed Dutch train. It sounds ridiculous, but traveling on a Dutch train is one of the great pleasures in my life. A soft, dim high-pitched hum is all you hear of the engine as you fly through the country with no bumps. Even shifting tracks is so smooth you don’t even notice. Interiors are pristine, the people take care of their seats, and the conductors are extremely nice. It’s always a fantastic welcome to a country when the first train you sit on feels like magic carpet, gliding to your destination.

I think back to NYC. I can’t imagine the thoughts I would have as a first-time tourist taking the subway to Manhattan from JFK. Something like: What a nightmare, how is this a first-world country? Was this even worth it?

My friends are floored by the general peace the country emanates. Things are just nice. People are friendly and patient. Getting from point A to B doesn’t hurt inside like it does in NYC. After making it to our Airbnb, one of my friends says something along the lines of, Man. This is nice. I’ve been to European countries before, but this is just something else. I nod. He’s right, I think.

We’ve rented a townhome in the rich part of town, just outside the center of the city. It’s calm and affluent even for people in Amsterdam, Olivier says. A backyard deck overlooks a block of houses. They all seem covered in ivy. Everything is pristine. Still exhausted from our red eye, we decide that, with only one night in Amsterdam, we need to make it count. We grab unbelievably delicious cappuccinos (milk frothed to perfection, a rich, creamy taste) from some cafe down the street (the Dutch make phenomenal coffee, as well) and split up. Some of us go to a coffee shop in the center of the city, while the rest of us go to the local Albert Heijn, a grocery store chain started in 1887, to grab food and Heineken. Even the prepackaged sandwiches there are good.

Later in the afternoon, we’re finally enjoying ourselves in the Dutch capital. Music playing over one of those tiny portable speakers, smoke in the air, and pizza in the oven. There’s no way I can complain—about anything really. This always seems to be my experience in Holland. Completely at ease.

But then we have to get up and get moving. It’s time to go on a cruise through Amsterdam’s extensive canal network. These canals are a truly impressive feat, while being very unlike any other major city with a river or network of smaller tributaries running through it. Almost all of them were the result of extremely efficient urban planning, dating back to the 17th century. When most of the new world was yet to be more than a colony, the Dutch had begun to organize the world’s most elaborate and extensive system of irrigation, creating over 90 islands and 1,500 bridges in the process. In fact, one of the most famous rings built in the 17th century is now a UNESCO World Heritage site.

We arrive at a dock close to our Airbnb and pick up our Mokumboot or “Amsterdam Boat.” Mokum is the Dutch off-hand word for Amsterdam, supposedly tracing its roots back to the 20th century Bargoens slang, a cant language that arose in the 17th century, and was used by criminals, tramps and travelling salesmen as a secret code. Mokum has now lost the negative connotation associated with it and is now broadly used as a more intimate name for the city. The boat we get is new—a small, 10-seater with no roof where you all have to sit in the outer ring—and, incredibly, operable without a license. Or at least that’s what we’re told. Several beers deep, we’re excited about the possibility of cruising on the canals, but likely not worried enough about what can happen should things go wrong.

That being said the boat is easy to operate. Olivier, our Dutch liaison, is captain, moving us along the calm, dark green canals in a zig-zag line. He defends himself by saying the boat responds slowly. We laugh. My cousin Yuri passes me a beer as I am so focused on getting shots from a unique vantage point. A cool breeze welcomes us through our trip as we explore Amsterdam, zigging and zagging, passing houseboat after houseboat, drifting under bridge after bridge. We pass other boats, some filled with tourists, and others with full groups of Dutch 20-somethings, all doing the same thing as us. Holland really is a beautiful place, I think to myself. Quickly, however, I am snapped out of my introspection as we crash into the stone support pillar of a canal bridge. But there is no harm to ourselves or the boat. We leave with but a memory of good, stupid times. Of course, we do finally switch captains to one of my friends from New York who proves that the zigging and zagging was not wholly the fault of a bad boat. We eventually make our way back to the dock. I think this will be the highlight of the trip, I recall wondering. It was probably the most fun I’d had in all my visits to the Netherlands.

After returning the boat, we hop in a cab and head back to the apartment to get ready for the night at hand (lest we forget we are here for my bachelor party). Some more Heinekens, a little more music, cigarettes and whatnot; we are good to go. We head out into the city, lively on a Saturday night. Bikes still passing you by left and right. Eventually, we arrive at a club. Not much happens after that of note (seriously, the club was a bust). Heading home, we stop to get some Doner Kebab, the Dutch (and broadly, European) version of NYC’s Halal. It’s delicious, perfectly seasoned and meant for drunk people. We head home our stomachs full, our bodies tired.

Waking up the next morning proves to be easier than we imagined, and we check out of our Airbnb. I grab some last few photos of the street trams and another delicious cappuccino. To Groningen we go. Groningen is a city in the north of Holland, filled mostly with college students attending the University of Groningen. Olivier attends as he prepares to be a doctor. In contrast to Amsterdam, Groningen is much smaller, intimate, and cozy. There is one main square, to which nearly every road leads. The main square has a farmer’s market nearly every day of the week, situated in the shadows of a building with the tallest peak in the city, a golden tower. Olivier says that under city ordinance, no building can be higher than it. As such, most of the city is but a few stories tall, creating the rows of houses and cobblestone streets European cities are so famous for. Groningen, however, is still a relatively large city, notable for its soccer club, FC Groningen, which was the birthplace of Luis Suarez, Uruguayan striker and now Barcelona-ace, in Europe. As we hop back on a bullet train from Amsterdam Centraal which will take us two hours or so to arrive in Groningen, Olivier and I reminisce on the many good memories we have together in Groningen. There was a time I spent two weeks on his couch in a house floating on the canals, doing nothing but smoking. College was a different time!, I say. Another time I came for a total of thirty hours over an MLK weekend because I found a great roundtrip deal and had to pull the trigger. We remember old friends of his, inside jokes, and whatnot. Groningen is the Holland both he and I know (albeit him much more).

Our accommodations in Groningen are much more modest and look like the set of a minimalist photoshoot—you know, the one where they have the distressed wood, exposed brick, and succulents. Located on the edge of a canal and just a few minutes walk away from the main square, we drop off our things and head back into town. A wonderous thing about Holland is that, unlike other countries, the metro heart of the nation doesn’t take a form different to the other cities in the country. Groningen, the Hague, and the other Dutch cities I’ve been to all seem like they could be part of Amsterdam. Either as a unique neighborhood, or as a kind of “Brooklyn of Amsterdam.” It makes the country feel so cohesive, like a warm blanket, or an alternate reality where life really is just better.

In Groningen we go out one last time. We watch a huge match in Dutch football—PSV against Ajax—at a bar while scarfing down a plate of Mixed Snacks: frikandel, kroket, and more. After the match we go to a bar that has some of the smoothest and most flavorful beer I’d had in years. There are so many on tap it’s almost dizzying. We drink as the night turns into early morning, savoring the last night in Holland, the beers being slowly guzzled down, our conversations inching ever louder. The night finishes with more doner kebab (what else did you expect?). With full bellies, smiles on our faces, and three nights worth of sleep deprivation, we pass out. Another visit to Holland, another trip full of of quaint European homes, fantastic beer, coffee shops, delicious food, and great, great people.

If you haven’t gone yet, I recommend it highly. I will always recommend it. Seriously. You can tell you hate Dutch people and I’ll still recommend a visit. I’m not entirely sure why, but I just will. Anthony Bourdain, an idol of mine since the age of eleven, had Vietnam. A place he described as “life-changing for sure; maybe because it was all so new and different to my life before and the world I grew up in. The food, culture, landscape and smell; they’re all inseparable. It just seemed like another planet; a delicious one that sort of sucked me in and never let go.”

I guess I have Holland. Holland, which, in my first visit at sixteen years-old changed my life so immeasurably, has kind of done the same thing that Vietnam did to Bourdain. It’s sucked me in, stuck on me like a tattoo I got during a wild night out. A tattoo I never remember wanting but now can’t bear to get rid of for what it represents.

Holland, a love story.

travel tips

Amsterdam:

— Grab an OV Chipkaart in the airport. Have someone help you set it up if you’re traveling alone. No need to waste money on Ubers when the trains and trams are so good.

— Avoid Club NL.

— Bike lanes cut through the sidewalk, and are marked only by a white line. There’s no indentation or separation from the rest of the sidewalk. The bikes come fast, so be aware. Luckily, Dutch people are nice and will have patience for tourists.

— Make sure you eat as many Frikandels and Krokets as you can.

— If you’re into it, check out the Bulldog.

— We didn’t do it on this trip, but obviously check out Amsterdam’s main square/plaza, as well as the “Iamsterdam” sign.

Groningen

— Climb the Martini Tower, the tallest building in the city.

— If you’re into it, the Clown is where to go.

— The Noorderplantsoen Park is a nice place to walk and just chill out, especially with nice weather.

— The local farmer’s market, Vismarkt, is best on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, where they feature local products.

— We went to the Oblomov. It’s a bar with over 100 beers on tap. It’s fantastic and cheap.