On the Lamb: Amsterdam 2012 (Part Drie)
The Bloggist Is Away

Whatever happened to our drunk bloggist?

When last we caught him, he just finished touring the Heineken Experience. Although profoundly thankful for the generous rations of good Dutch beer, our bloggist discovered that his liver had the same capacity as that of a puppy’s.

Our impaired bloggist, together with his girl-beard (geard?), Joanne, decided to set off to look for some culture.

We left his face looking like this:

“I thought I told you to go away?”

Having just had three beers in the last hour (damn, but weren’t they good?)… we decided that lunch should be the next order of business, however late. We trekked over to the Museumplein, a nearby square containing some of Amsterdam’s most important museums. We passed the Rijksmuseum, although it was partially closed for renovation.

Doesn’t mean you don’t get a gratuitous photo of this bloggist, anyway.

Just a bit beyond that, we stopped to take a picture at the huge ‘I amsterdam’ sign, promoting the city’s tourism program.

Some of these tourists thought there was an Apple Store nearby.

At this point, I really needed some form of sustenance – what with quickly getting drunk after a seventeen-hour flight. With my head still throbbing from being under the influence, we settled at a food kiosk among others in a row. Like many others we passed before it, this one served ‘real American hotdogs’. It was less blatant compared to the others, however, because it wasn’t all decked out in the stars and stripes. What it had though – and I regret not taking a photo then – was a three-foot fiberglass figure of a crazy-eyed anthropomorphic hotdog sandwich squirting itself with ketchup.

Thanks to Google, I would find out that this thing is not that uncommon. You may even buy one here. [thanks, cindy47452]

I got myself a ‘real American hotdog’, mildly amused at the Dutch fascination with ‘exotic’ American culture. Of course, I knew better than to expect an authentic American hotdog (whatever that means) in Amsterdam South. The condiment section had the usual – ketchup, mustard, onions, mild relish, and fried onions – eh, what that? Fried onions? Those are good! I encountered fried onions for hotdogs only once last year in Denmark – and the Danish røde pølse (‘red sausage’) was indeed a cultural experience. Looking at my overpriced tourist-trap Dutch ‘American’ hotdog, I decided that the best way to enjoy it would be to: 1.) bury it under fried onion bits, and 2.) throw away the hotdog – it would just get in the way of the fried onion. Of course, I was too cheap to throw away a €5 hotdog… I simply went back for seconds of fried onion, even bringing Joanne’s Dutch meatloaf sandwich for a helping of the same. I was tempted to go a third time, bringing only our empty paper plates, but the hotdog dude started looking at me funny.

It’s the crazy eyes! [thanks again, cindy47452]

During our visit, two major art museums at the Museumplein were undergoing rework: the aforementioned Rijksmuseum (partly open), and Stedelijk Museum (yet a month from re-opening). A third one, the Van Gogh Museum, was itself only a few weeks away from renovation. Incidentally, the Van Gogh was the most visited national museum in the Netherlands last year… well, it was open, wasn’t it? Not to take away from the Van Gogh Museum, of course, because Vincent Van Gogh is easily the best-known Dutch painter. I guess one may argue for Rembrandt in that category, but whom, between them, did the folky dude responsible for American Pie write a song for?

Anything with Eugene Levy is OK in my book. [thanks, American Pie]

I was, at that point, transitioning from inebriated to hungover. For an hour or so, I tested whether exposure to high culture – or Impressionism, at least – could remedy my sorry state. Spoiler: it did not – but we did get to look at an extensive collection of Van Gogh art that were on loan from the artist’s family, no less. Among the significant works we saw were The Potato Eaters, Wheatfield with Crows, Bedroom in Arles (one version), and various self-portraits. I would remember more if my head wasn’t trying to escape its cranial confines then. The best takeaway from the museum was that Joanne and I learned how to properly pronounce ‘Gogh’ – it doesn’t rhyme with ‘go’, but rather ‘awe’. Also, you had to expectorate a bit – something we couldn’t do without the risk of regurgitating fried onion.

Across the Van Gogh Museum, fronted by a somewhat unassuming entrance, one would find the House of Bols – and you can bet that I would run away with that on the puns alone.

For example, their signature Blue Curaçao is called – no shit – Bols Blue. [thanks, Bols]

Pardon the tease… the bad puns shall continue in a few. Please hold onto your belt buckles and cocktail glasses for the meantime…


If you want the (yet again) intoxicating CONTINUATION, please click here.

If you missed what happened immediately before, please click this.

If you want to rewind back to the start of the Amsterdam write-ups, please click this instead.

If you want to go through past TRAVEL pieces, please go here.

If you want to visit stuff about FOOD, please go here.

Categories: [culture], [food], [travel]

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