My Heart is in Amsterdam

Every time I come to visit my family and friends in Amsterdam I leave a little bit of my heart behind.

I already miss this little monster. Coat by Calvin Klein, handmade scarf

I was born here, I grew up here, and yet I no longer live here. I know the streets well, I bike like an echt Amsterdams meisje and I find my Dutch only getting better and better. I hope that one day my story will take me back home, because The Netherlands is my home. When you grow up as a third culture kid your passport country is not always the place you feel is home. I am Dutch, passport or no.

Haarlemerstraat, NL

My sister lives on the Haarlemerstraat, a trendy neighborhood of Amsterdam. Every building here is beautiful and full of character.

Likeurtje from Walter Woodbury Bar and thrifted purse

One of the first nights I got back my sister and zwager (brother-in-law) took me to the Walter Woodbury Bar, a surprisingly North American style bar. I think my sister must feel a little homesick for Canada, and this is an establishment that feels like it belongs in Queen West (minus the delicious bitterballen on the menu).

Shoes by Bandolino, jeans by American Eagle and coat by Calvin Klein

Of course, arriving so close to Christmas I was shuttled about by my sisters for some last minute shopping. The Kalverstraat (the Walking Street) is the busiest place you could shop. It's like an outdoor mall, but it has everything you could ever need. I discovered a couple new brands like Monki, Pull and Bear, and Bershka.

Sabon on the Kalverstraat

Amsterdam Museum, Amsterdam NL

Coffee at Museumcafé Mokum

One of those shopping days I stumbled upon the Amsterdam Museum looking for a good cup of coffee. I love how the Dutch do coffee. Instead of drip they serve you a deliciously creamy long shot and almost always compliment you with a cookie.

Freshly made stroopwafel from the Dappermarkt, Amsterdam

I indulged in a little taste of my childhood while hunting through the bustling Dappermarkt. You can buy stroopwafels here in Canada, but it's not the same as having a freshly made one.

At the Tuschinski. Top by Scotch and Soda, jeans by American Eagle, bag by Matt and Nat and shoes by Ralph Lauren Denim and Supply

While in Amsterdam I caught The Hobbit. I have to say that I don't like how it was filmed - this whole more frames per minute thing makes me feel like I'm watching something low-budget. How ironic, and what a waste of production money! But seeing the movie in the glorious Art Deco Pathé Tuschinski theatre made the night worthwhile. If you travel to Amsterdam you just have to see this theatre, even if you don't actually see anything playing there.

Christmas Day in Amsterdam was sunny and bright

Christmas day I took the kids to a playground to keep the chaos out of the house for a little while. On the way I got distracted by one beautiful building. Inside was a courtyard and utter stillness. It was a seniors residence, with a neatly trimmed garden and a beautiful view.

Sisters compare hands

Later that week my sisters and I checked out the Amsterdam Light Festival. After talking which side of the family Rachel's kids take after, she turned to compare each of us. We all look alike in our own way, even if we don't look strongly like mum or dad. She had us compare our hand. Mine are like my mum's with long and knobbly fingers.

At the Amsterdam Light Festival

Artis Zoo, Amsterdam

The day before we left we took the kids to the Artis Zoo. I have so many childhood memories of traipsing around this zoo. I may have more memories of playing on the playground, to be honest, but I distinctly remember the tiger that I named Rajah (Ajay tells me this name is the equivalent of the English "Alistair").

A dirty Dutch tile

And just for fun, here's a dirty Dutch tile.

What place do you call home?

Home for the Holidays

A couple weeks ago my mum said to me "Here's an idea... why don't you go see your sisters for Christmas?" I grew up in Amsterdam; my parents used to work in the Netherlands. The big age difference between me and my sisters means that when we left for Canada, seven-year-old Lindsay didn't have much say, but Rachel and Heather were already out of the nest. Now they both have their own families in Amsterdam. It's hard being away from family, and I feel it the most around Christmas.

I wish I could say the trip there was easy going but you wouldn't believe my bad luck. Originally I was meant to fly to JFK and then to Schipol. The drive up to the airport was super foggy - we could see maybe five cars in front of us and that was it. Apparently New York had it worse. First my flight was delayed... then cancelled. I've never had a flight cancelled and I really didn't know what to do. 

I called my airline - they'd set up another flight for me the next day but I was anxious to leave and already had an itinerary (typical). I asked to be put on the next direct flight. No problem, it seemed. Except that when I ran for the KLM desk and out of breath handed over my passport I was told that I was technically on the plane, but my ticket hadn't been issued. 

I asked the desk about my checked bags and was told something like "that's not my jurisdiction". This woman really did not want to help me. She continued to tell me that since I missed my flight I was out of luck (great, you don't even know what flight I was on, super helpful!) Wonderful... "What's the next step that I can take?" I ask. You may not be polite, but I shall. She pointed vaguely to ask another person.

I called again to my airline and had someone confirm this. Then I was on hold as they tried to figure out my flight (attempt #4 if we're counting). 20 minutes later... dial-tone.

Since I had started with the airline on the phone, I had to complete the process over the phone. I called again and asked if they had the transcripts from my last conversations, the answer apparently was "no", and when I explained the non-issuing of the ticket the person I was speaking to this time completely denied that that was the case. I assured her that was correct and that KLM had confirmed this. but she insisted I was wrong. 

After being transferred to the supervisor, I struggled to get my bags back, finally figuring out who to ask. Eventually, after an hour on hold I was put on a flight from Toronto to Detroit to Amsterdam. With 20 minutes to run for the gate I quickly booked it. It was kind of like in Home Alone when the whole family runs through the airport, and when I got to the gate I asked, out of breath, if I had made it in time. "Yes you made it, the flight has been delayed." It was so delayed, in fact, that I would miss my connecting flight, extending my layover in Detroit to 14 hours. 

Crying, exhausted, I finally folded. Calling in one last time I booked the direct flight leaving the next day. And finally... I was off!

Me and all my luggage (JK)

I never have problems flying, but this was unreal. I made it, however, just in time for Christmas!

And look what was waiting for me when I got there...

Going Dutch

I'm proud of my homeland; the Netherlands is a beautiful and inspiring country. And yet I hesitate at times to tell people where I'm from. Inevitably I am faced with the following: "How's the Red Light District?" "Smoke a lot of dope?" "What do your parents do?"

It frustrates me that the first thing people jump to is the seedy stereotype of Amsterdam, which I will have you know is vastly overstated. I may have only been a child while growing up in A'dam, but I go back regularly. The tourist industry booms every season, rain or shine, and it saddens me that so many people who visit have a singular purpose.

There is so much art and culture in the Netherlands, so much history and beauty in such a small country and I wish that when I told people I'm from Amsterdam their response would be "Wow it's so beautiful there!" "Have you seen Rembrandt's work at the Rijksmuseum?" "What is the food like over there?"

My brother-in-law, Timo, who is visiting with my Sister from the Netherlands just asked me what I was writing. "When people ask me 'How is it living in Amsterdam' I tell them it's like biking through a fairytale every day."