Old Friends, New Friends . . .

December brings a lot of things, but one of those things this year is the end of our Amsterdam trip. Cue the rush to do everything that we’ve been putting off, and to re-do a few of the things that left that kind of impression on us.

One of those new stops was the Museum Willet-Holthuysen, former residence of Louisa Wilet-Holthuysen who left her home, furnishings, and art collection to the city when she died in 1895, so long as the canal house became a public museum. In some ways this was a lot like the Van Loom House—Louisa and her husband, Abraham, lived lavish lifestyles in the nineteenth century, and we caught glimpses of this in the Ladies’ Salon, Ballroom, and Garden Room.

Maybe we’re a bit more critical towards museums at this point in our stay, who can say? All I know is neither of the original owners had to actually work during their lifetimes, instead relying on their family fortunes to entertain guests and collect art. All I could think was that if, in 150 years, people visit Paris Hilton’s Beverly Hills mansion to get a taste of 2015, it might be just as authentic. The other thing is that despite Willet-Holthuysen’s fairly clear bequest, the house actually underwent a number of changes to get to the display it is now, which means a lot of negotiation between what was left and what was ultimately presented to the visitors. Things that would have been especially interesting to see, like the servant’s quarters, were essentially disregarded, and displays were reconstructed based on photographs or general styles from the period.

Sinterklaas gave us, amongst other things, tickets for an hour long canal cruise by Holland International Canal Cruises—we had seen the canals in the height of autumn, and so an overcast day on the edge of winter, after a cappuccino at a nearby café, made a nice complement (especially since this time the boat was enclosed and heated!).

I’ve spoken about the mesmerizing, concentric rings of the Dutch canals a couple times before (or at least meant to), but without seeing a picture it’s hard to get a mental image. That’s literally how the centre of Amsterdam is laid out though, along these rings of canals, with narrow canal houses lining the edges. Everywhere you turn in this city, you’re on a different waterway.

Which means that the canals are a perfectly legitimate way of getting around Amsterdam. We started at Centraal Station and took a leisurely route towards the Amstel River, making an arc back toward the centre of the city and then into the IJ—arguably a lake, but considered to be a wide river serving as a waterfront for Amsterdam. By the time we were finished, the Christmas lights in the heart of the city were coming alive.

On Monday evening, we finally made the connection with a family in Badhoevedorp, a somewhat-complicated-but-not-too-far-out-of-the-way spot where we had been invited for a meal that was rescheduled a number of times. Given that dinner is usually a private, family affair, the chance to be a part of that routine was very special to us.

The Arieses are an absolutely lovely family—Karin and Paul warmly welcomed us into their home, introducing us to their three equally lovely children, ranging from ages 9 to 3. The children have not yet started learning English in school, and so much of the conversation (especially focused around Sinterklaas, who had visited them in Delft a few nights earlier) was translated by one of the parents. We had hearty servings of a sausage and sauerkraut dish, with a fresh pie out of the oven topped with cream.

In between bites, we learned that Karin was an anesthesiologist, and Paul is a lecturer in Museum Studies—in typical Dutch fashion, however, both were very modest about what would be fairly prestigious careers in North America. After the meal, the family sang a song together—the same routine was followed at Pieter and Eveliene’s a few nights earlier, and it’s a nice touch.

Ruben, the oldest child, played a game of chess (read: I got destroyed in a game of chess), while his slightly younger sister Sarah showed Kayla her new children’s atlas of the Netherlands, a gift from Sinterklaas that she had been eager to teach Kayla about. The coffee was poured, and Karin and Paul rejoined us for a full family game of “Set”, a popular card game over here where you look for sets in groups of cards. For us newbie Canadians, the rules were a bit tricky at first, but Kayla downloaded the iPhone app as soon as we got home, so hopefully next time we’ll be a bit more competitive!

A couple of observations: Ruben was really good at the game, and even though he won every round, he easily could have won by more. However, his mother told him in Dutch to let us have a chance (because we were slower recognizing the sets), and he had no trouble backing off. He even made me a paper star, which he gave to me before he went to bed.

Second, the only television we noticed was a small one, and at no point was anyone transfixed by a cellphone screen. Family time here actually means family time, and maybe that has something to do with why Dutch people seem so well-mannered and genuinely happy.

All told, it was a very refreshing night out for us, well worth the minor hassle in getting the combination of train, metro, and bus.    

Come Friday afternoon, we got an early tram to Museumplein and spent a few hours in the Stedelijk Museum. Amsterdam’s modern and contemporary art gallery houses a weird and wonderful collection—although the last time we visited it, we were led around a series of empty rooms, getting asked questions about how we perceived progress, so suffice it to say we were at least a little bit nervous about walking into a room without knowing what was supposed to be on display.

Kayla is really into the CoBrA art movement, and so their blend of children’s art and folk styles (which, by the way, when it debuted at the Stedelijk back in 1949, was totally rejected by contemporary audiences) was a definite stop.

A couple of other pieces that I enjoyed, for different reasons. Charley Toorop’s “Recumbent Head of Medusa” from 1938, the style returning to realism imbued with symbolism:

This collection of tetrahedrons, with a cool blend of colour palettes:

Or this 1890 Anna Boch painting of a “Woman in Landscape,” which is kind of remarkable for all the simple brushstrokes that make the whole composition. As per the whole point of art galleries, you really need to see it on the actual canvas, but since most people reading this aren’t in Amsterdam, this will have to suffice:

And, of course, it’s nice to wander through the scattered collection of Van Goghs, Picassos, and Cézannes, if only to recognize the names.

It would have been wishing too much to have come and gone without seeing anything truly weird that looks like it was thrown together at the last minute, the biggest inside joke of the art gallery world, mocking the pseudo-intellectual interpretations some of the hoity-toity visitors manage to come up with and repeat without a trace of irony in their voices. Good for them, I guess.

After the Stediljk, Kayla went with a few friends to the Van Gogh Museum, and I went off to the Rijksmuseum, for one last sojourn in that mighty Dutch artistic palace.

The sprawling collection of art and history is too much to see in one day, but this was my third visit, and I think I’ve done it justice now. I saw a few new things, like the library and a blend of painting and sculpture that was uncannily reminiscent of moose quarters hanging in the shed, but mostly it was revisiting the stuff that I liked from previous visits.

For reasons that I don’t quite get, Barend Cornelis Koekkoek’s “Winter Landscape” from the 1830s remains my absolute favourite piece at the Rijksmuseum. It’s fairly unremarkable, except that it’s a winter day that I can smell, if that makes any sense. He got the glint of sun on the snow right, and the way the dirt shows through the snow on the well-worn tracks.

I’ll definitely miss some of the decidedly Dutch scenes, from “The Singel Bridge at the Paleisstraat” depicting a winter day on the Amsterdam canals (check out how the woman in the foreground is almost walking out of the canvas) to “A Windmill on a Polder Waterway.” Maybe for the same reason that I like the “Winter Landscape”—because I recognize the feelings and atmosphere of the places, even if the actual surroundings are imagined.

Just as dusk was settling in, large glass panes in the lobby of the Rijksmuseum were suddenly illuminated, as if by magic—they looked pretty ordinary if you looked directly up, but take a few steps back . . .

Four months isn’t enough time to grow overly attached to anything, but it is enough time to develop a connection and find familiarity and routine. The Netherlands has that kind of hold on me now—we know people, we like certain food, we know our way around. It’s always a bit sad, leaving something that you’re just getting used to, a far cry from that first day in Uilenstede when I flooded the bathroom and couldn’t imagine ever getting comfortable. But how lucky, to have all these memories to bring back—some of them literally reduced to pieces of art that trigger all the other memories and associations of a truly special place.

After the museum, I reconvened with Kayla, Mary, and Christie, and the four of us walked along the canals of Amsterdam, guided by the illuminated displays of the Amsterdam Light Festival, a public exhibition throughout the city of different light fixtures. Some blink, some are interactive, some are in special shapes—mostly, it’s just a chance to wander the city at night, taking in the festive glow.

We went back to Mary’s afterwards, where we opened a bottle of wine and a bag of chips before a delicious meal of carbonara, joined by half a dozen other young people. I wish we’d made the connection with this crowd earlier in our time here—we’ve been friends for a month or two, and even that limited amount of time has been really special. I guess it’s a case of better late than never.

And, of course, when you leave a place that you feel a connection to, part of the “missing” has nothing to do with the physical location, but with the people who you met there and shared an experience with. Maybe it would have been nicer to have met our Amsterdam friends in August, but imagine if we hadn’t made these connections at all.

Not even all of the paintings in the Rijksmuseum would have been much of a substitute for that.

Cheers,

rb