Rollercoaster Reality
This week has been a bumper crop of unexpected events. To begin, an adrenaline-filled whole-day experience at Phantasialand. And the rest? A meandering journey through the quirky eclecticism that is Amsterdam. There is much to discuss, my friends.
We pick up from our arrival the night before at a hotel in Brühl, forced out of our van by cold and lack of power, seeking a cosy place to hide out until our day at Phantasialand. The morning came with a buffet breakfast, before a five-minute ride down the road to the theme park. We arrived at 11am, and stayed right through to the 8:00pm fireworks that capped off a day of pure and wild indulgence. I confirmed something about myself that day — I’m no adrenaline junkie. Give me a book and somewhere quiet to read it, thank you very much, I can do without all this jostling about.
Nevertheless, it was a fun afternoon. We began outside a medieval wizard’s tower, and moved through areas themed after China, Berlin, Africa and the Wild West — each one fashioned and furnished with such props and environments as to dazzle the imagination. The first ride carried us to the top of the wizard’s tower, where the lights went out and we were dropped, one group at a time, into the inky blackness of the shaft below. The rest of the day was of a similar tone. We were tipped and swung around in circles on a mayan-themed ride which spat fire as it turned. We accidentally went on the fastest double-accelerated rollercoaster in the world. We were tipped down tracks that coiled and turned as our own vehicle spun back and forth; and shot virtual mice in a cake factory. We kept up our energy through the day with small, shared meals from around the world: churros with melted chocolate and hot chips with pulled pork and chicken noodles with warm, spiced beer. As the evening arrived, we watched an acrobatics performance in a dimly lit theatre. Then it was the end of the night, and a spectacular, choreographed show with lights, water fountains, music and fireworks erupted in the central square. As the final light died away, we were all ushered out into the evening, where we skipped the whole line of cars queuing to leave because a side-exit was fortuitously opened just as we approached. It was a special day spent wrapped up in one big, magical adventure with the girl I love, and it ended in a warm hotel room that welcome our weary bodies.
Light sculptures at every corner
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The next day, it was back to Koblenz. Alessandra made crunchwraps for the family, and we took advantage of the opportunity to have a proper hot shower and wash our clothes before hitting the road once more in the morning. We took Luli to the vet, too, where she was microchipped and vaccinated for the journey ahead.
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It was the morning, and we were on our way out. We tried to fill up on water, but found that our heating system dumps the contents of the water tank when it senses the temperature drop below three degrees celsius. As it was, we couldn’t close the valve — to prevent the pipes freezing up, the release valve would stay open until the temperature climbed back up. Still, we had our 20L jerrycan, which was enough to see us through.
We had one week before my PET scan in Frankfurt, and decided to use the time to explore the Netherlands and take a stroll or two through Amsterdam, making the most of the chance to get out of Germany for a time. By the end of the day, we had parked down a little country road just across the border, overlooking a well-tended field. Happily, our heater was doing its job once more, and we passed a peaceful night.
Some afternoons, the sky was like magic
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We’d expected to cover the rest of the distance on Thursday, then take a train into Amsterdam proper, but things never go quite according to plan. By the time we arrived in a small town at the fringes of the city, we’d little time remaining with which to enjoy Amsterdam without feeling rushed. Instead, we found a paid caravan site with public transport just down the road, parked up, and used a new charger to let Ziggy drink his fill of power from the mains.
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Finally, Amsterdam. We took a full day to wander our way through the iconic city, crossing myriad canals and soaking up the atmosphere. It was a full day, and a day of lists — for lists are the only way I can describe to you a reasonable sampling of our experience, without spending page after page describing the marvels we enjoyed. There was a curiosities and oddities shop; the Ripley’s Believe it or Not! Museum; manifold coffeeshops, cafés of every kind, and…well, perhaps I can provide a few details. The oddities shop featured pinned butterflies and beetles with iridescent wings or clockwork insides, mounted in cases made of glass and wood; porcelain skulls with golden-dipped teeth; natural science prints and lacquered trays featuring animals as anthropomorphised figures of nobility. Ripley’s Believe it or Not! was fascinating — a strange, multi-storeyed hoarder’s dream palace, with curiosities aplenty. There were torture devices and real shrunken heads; and wax figures and carvings and cannibal necklaces made of human teeth. It was wacky — that’s the right word for it. At The Bulldog — Amsterdam’s first coffeeshop — we bought cupcakes and all the necessary paraphernalia to ensure a good time in the Netherlands. Then there was lunch: a Moroccan pancake packed with cheese and spicy tuna in a little café down a side-street.
Narrow, tall houses; each unique, yet harmonious. It’s like they all got together for a family photo — the houseboat is the family pet.
Speaking of cheese: the first shop we chanced to enter was a cheese shop, where we sampled the best cheeses I have ever eaten in my life. They were of every colour and kind: beer-flavoured; lavender; jalepeño; goat’s cheese with truffle; aged goudas. We exercised restraint in buying only two modest blocks — a four-year-aged goat’s cheese and a Lutjewinkel — along with a delicate slicer to accompany them.
So many shops of such marvellous variety. We saw several shops selling all kinds of rubber ducks and several others selling sex toys. Every fashion you could imagine was available to purchase, stuffed into crowded shop windows. Pop-up shops selling herring sandwiches, and proper walk-in shops packed with barrels that overflowed with piles of sweets of every conceivable colour. Bakeries showing off row upon row of cream-and-fruit-stuffed pastries. You couldn’t help but snap your head back and forth, turning this way and that in a vain attempt to take in even a slice of what was on display.
I wanted to go into every single shop.
We walked and walked until the sun began to slip below the horizon, after which we cut through the Red Light District, passing girls with Barbie doll curves standing in red-trimmed neon shop windows, displaying their wares and trying to lock eyes with passersby. A train and a bus ride later and we were back at our campsite, heads still spinning.
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Our second and last day in Amsterdam was cold, and a pervasive and insistent rain somewhat dampened our spirits. That Saturday marked the fourth year since Alessandra and I first met, and a year since I proposed to her. We had hoped to ferret out all of Amsterdam’s hidden gems, but the weather would not allow it. Not to be dissuaded, we then walked to the art museum, only to find that tickets had to be pre-purchased several weeks in advance. We did still get to enjoy the aesthetic of the building itself though, with gothic-scrawled letters and paintings all across its façade. Together, we watched a woman riding a tall, white horse down the thoroughfare, as another performed opera in the echoing acoustics of the chambered entrance. Pretty soon, we were running out of ideas for places to go, and the rain was showing no sign of letting up. With too much time to kill until dinner, I suggested a movie. We settled on the Hunger Games prequel, and snuggled up with snacks in the movie theater as we watched the excellent series get slowly butchered by bewildering plot decisions and pulp romance script writing.
Rolling out of the cinema, we picked a local Argentinian restaurant for dinner, where average food was followed by a comically long wait for the bill. We couldn’t help but laugh — it was, after all, turning out to be the least successful anniversary ever, and that made it its own kind of fun. It was late by the time we headed back through the Red Light District and toward the central train station, where we blearily navigated public transport back to Ziggy and a warm bed.
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Sunday involved a visit to Zaanse Schans — an idyllic spot outside Amsterdam, where windmills still creak and turn with the wind; and cottages are separated by streams and brooks and canals, featuring narrow bridges for access by foot. The cold and rain gave it a different kind of beauty to how it would present in its summer clothes, but it was still a lovely place to be. We bought tickets for access into the guts of the windmills and entry into the local museums, with discounted parking and food. The museums were surprisingly interesting, describing how the mills were used to make paper, or linseed oil, or the pigmented powders that would become paints or pastels. Some continue to do so even today. One museum showed the process of making the Dutch wooden clog, and pair after shiny pair of lacquered, carved and painted shoes lined the walls. It was in this way that we bade goodbye to the Netherlands, and thanked it for its hospitality.
Peace and quiet
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What a week, what a week. What can be gleaned from our glorious, spontaneous visit to the Netherlands and its treasures?
There are those who like hustle and bustle, and those who like calm and quiet — and we all need a dose of the other side of things, from time to time.
Make use of opportunities for a good night’s rest, a nice hot shower, and a delicious meal with family.
When exploring, don’t rush — the best parts of the adventure are often the things you weren’t looking for and didn’t expect, and you only find those things when you take your time.
When in Amsterdam, try the muffins. They’re delightful.
