Wow, I swear, I am about a week away from finishing this series. I’m not going to stop now. But yes, I realize the relevance of this trip has worn off, as I’m writing about New Years three months after the fact.
This felt like two days in one because day and night were literally like…day and night. I will divide this post as such.
The Day:
The day started off routine enough. The three of us wandered aimlessly for miles trying to find breakfast. We walked so long, passing plenty of dining establishments once again, that it soon turned into lunch. We eventually all settled on this great little cafe that was still serving breakfast food. From the window, you could see rows of Belgian waffles with all sorts of toppings. That was inviting enough for us. It was a hipster crowd, I had a lovely egg sandwich, and there was seemingly out-of-place R&B soul baby-making music playing. According to Ezeibe and Alan, just weird music to listen to while eating breakfast. Whatever, it made me love the place more.
Then, we walked over the museumplein, a square similar to Washington D.C. Mall where all the major museums are. Alan nearly lost his life again when he stood in a bike lane and nearly got run over by a girl. There was ice skating going on. It looked fun, I wanted to do it, but didn’t. We took photos like good little tourists on the “I Amsterdam” sculpture. Being the excellent photographer that I am, I didn’t get a shot with the entire phrase. The size of the thing and the placement of tourists with the same idea kind of made that difficult. Short rant: I realize “I Amsterdam” is supposed to be a cute pun and all, but it’s not even grammatically correct.
Alan humps a Dam
Total tourist trap, this sculpture. There will always be at least one person ruining your shot every time. My Flickr pool proves it.
Surprise! Alan and I went to another museum. This time, it was the van Gogh museum. We thought the wait to get into the Orsay was bad, but we hadn’t been to this museum yet. We were outside for a good hour in 0 degree weather with snow flurries. By the time we got to the ticket counter (by the way, this museum is muy overpriced), I could barely open my wallet and pull out my credit card. Hands frozen, legs stinging. One hour before, Ezeibe took one look at the line that stretched far across the plein, attempted to wait with us for five minutes, and instantly decided he wanted nothing to do with that shit. I believe he took the metro/trolley back home, the one we followed on foot for a good mile rather than actually ride, much to Ezeibe’s chagrin).
The van Gogh Museum was pretty extensive for such a small little place. It had quite a collection of his masterpieces, and a cool sponsored exhibit on how scientists and art analysts conclude that something is an authentic van Gogh. What I liked was how the floors and pieces were arranged to tell his life story and his growth as an artist. It had English explanations, which was nice too. I became quite the hypocrite of the same type of tourists I hate when I snapped pictures all throughout the museum. I thought it was odd that no one was doing the same. After a guard nearly confiscated my camera, it was then I realized no photography was allowed inside the museum. Good times.
Illegal shot #1.
Illegal Shot #2...You know you're becoming an art snob when you see this painting and it's almost as breathtaking as the scenery in the Cardona.
After that, we took a short stroll to the Heineken factory tour, but that too was overpriced, so we shrugged and walked back home instead. On the way, Alan went inside a tourist shop to look for a present for people back home. Suddenly, my eyes honed in on…fake BLING!! I bought a neck chain with an oversized cash money sign that spun like rims. Alan left me in disgust. That 10 euro purchase was worth every penny, I don’t care what people say. My trip was complete.
The tour seemed like a rpioff, but Heineken does taste MUCH better in its home country.
Night:
So Ezeibe decided he would stay in and run out as it got closer to New Year’s. This may sound mad lazy, but to be fair, the main square really was only a few blocks up. I, however, was not about to be denied a good seat at this New Year’s experience. And Alan just wanted to get out of our hotel room. So 7PM rolls around, and we’re already out circling Dam Square, the Times Square equivalent of Amsterdam, except replace all the billboards and bright lights with cobblestone streets, old buildings, and a phallic statue. Practically the same thing.
Much earlier in the day. It's...about...to...go...down.
Miraculously, while circle the square, we find a nice bar/restaurant that isn’t a weed cafe or infested with a million revelers. A rare establishment indeed in Amsterdam. We had a variety of the standard bar grub: greasy chicken wings, greasy spring rolls, and a bunch of those delicious greasy fries. In hindsight, we probably shouldn’t have left that restaurant so soon, because it was a pretty chill atmosphere. We had a great corner table right on the windows so you could see all the revelers walking up and down the street. I got mad anxious that the square would be filling up (it wasn’t, it was barely 8PM).
So the square was bustling, but there was far from a crowd yet. We strolled the alleys and streets of the Red Light District to kill more time. Why not get some window shopping done, amiright? So let’s back up to the day before. Our first visit to the Red Light area was kind of disappointing, borderline traumatic. It was only late afternoon, and clearly the pimps did not bring out their freshest selection yet, ifyouknowwhatimean. What we saw was a horrifying display of uggos and transvestites (maybe Alan just took the two of us down the wrong alleys, but it was man-central up in there). I think it might’ve crushed Ezeibe’s spirits as he had been looking forward to the Red Light District for days previously. The night of New Year’s Eve, the girls were much better quality (too bad Eze wasn’t there to enjoy the view). Unfortunately, the amount of douchey fratboys and creepy old men ogling these girls made me feel dirty by association. Way to kill the mood, fellas.
Also crazy, fireworks. I hate fireworks. But the locals light them up everywhere once the sun disappears. We had to watch out for dicks that would light, then kick firecrackers at unsuspecting crowds of people.
Dam Square was the only relatively safe spot from all of the fireworks. There was still a bit of time left, but crowds were gathering and they had opened up the main stage and pit. Perfect time to just get a good spot and start people watching. Alan and I camped right behind a rotating aerial camera platform (you know the one that hovers and glides above the crowd as they all wave like lemmings). The barrier around the platform gave me a good view of the stage without being in the pit. We were facing the other direction of the stage mostly watching people avoid standing next to us. I wouldn’t want to stand behind Alan either. It didn’t help he was next to a dumpster and camera platform.
The crowd starting to gather. We were much further up by the time we settled on a spot.
Our spot next to a dumpster. No one wanted to stand within 5 feet of Alan. Alan also spent the night dodging flying beer bottles. Still...amazing view of the stage.
Dam Square with Phallic Statue. This was the crowd at around 10'ish. It increased in size exponentially each minute.
10:30 or so, the show begins. At this point, Dam Square doubled in population. Highlights from Amsterdam’s New Year’s Spectacular:
1) The same three ads/spots play on the jumbo screens at each commercial break. We could have made a drinking game out of it, had we thought to bring drinks.
2) A guy who Alan dubbed “DJ 90’s Hip Hop” played sets in between the main acts. He should have performed the entire night.
My new favorite person.
3) The main headliners were Alain Clark, Blof, and Anouk. Yes, that Anouk from the iPhone commercials. Of the three, only Blof sang in Dutch. They are the Dutch U2, apparently. They had some admittedly nice rock anthems. The crowd went nuts for them. I thought Anouk was pretty hot, I only realized later she’s a bit of a cougar. Alain Clark seemed really generic blue-eyed-soul singer at the time. Now, I play his album almost daily.
4) Being behind the barrier to a secured area had its benefits. We were one of the first to get lighted foam tubes. I even ended up with two. Not so cool…Getting nearly trampled against the barrier when people realized they were giving out free lighted foam tools.
5) The trampling mostly came from a group of annoying Indian men who must have thought diamonds were hidden inside these tubes or something, but they were mad aggressive about getting these tubes and were hording as many of them as possible. Not cool. Other fun people around us: Two well-behaved short Asian-Dutch girls by me. By Alan and the dumpster, some equally respectful revelrers around our age that pretty much ignored us until close to the countdown, when they offered Alan a glass of their leftover champagne. It was as if Alan was a stray dog being adopted from the pound after spending half his life living in a box. Alan grew a heart and learned the true meaning of Christmas that night.
It's not New Year's without GLOW TUBES!! Went well with the matching 2009 Santa hat from Paris. This was the only time Alan allowed me to wear it in public.
5) 20 seconds left until midnight, and some singer chick was still finishing up her glory note. They sure cut it close in Amsterdam. 3…2…1, FIREWORKS! Everywhere. Orgasm of fireworks is the only way I can describe it. Even shooting out of rotating globe spheres. Cue the Motown/Stevie Wonder medley. Crazy celebrations. This was as close to mass euphoria as I’ll probably ever feel. I don’t get out much, after all.
6) 20 seconds after the awesome Motown/Stevie Wonder medley…things get a little dicey. They ended the concert rather abruptly, and the announcement came on to get out in a quick and orderly manner. Quite the killjoy. I looked around after singing my lungs out, and people were pretty much filing out of the tiny square, except for super drunk teenage boys, who were eye-ing that camera platform and barrier like it was the Berlin Wall. Shit was about to go down, time to run out of there. We made it back to the hotel, where Ezeibe was awaiting, and I only *nearly* lost a leg to a rogue firecracker, instead of actually losing one. Consider this night a success!
7) One more celebratory drink at the bar and it was time for bed. Goodnight Amsterdam!
This night would be best expressed in video, which is why my pictures are lacking. Don’t worry, keep with me until the end and I’ll get the videos up for you all to see.
