Our day began with a hearty buffet breakfast. The choice of breakfast items was very different from the Spanish hotels we’ve stayed in elsewhere. They had the usual selection of breads (commonly found in continental hotels), pastries (inc croissant, pain-au-chocolat, pain-aux-raisins), Greek-style yoghurt in assorted flavours (strawberry, vanilla, banana, cherry) served in giant bowls. The vanilla one was really good, and the local pastries (raisin bread, apple cake, chocolate brownie squares and apple turnovers) were delicious. As usual, none of us ventured anywhere near the cooked breakfast items.

Having eaten our fill and washed it down with enough tea and cappuccino to sink several battleships, we hopped aboard the free bus back to the airport. Twenty minutes later, we stepped out of the station into a sunny Amsterdam, which was a beautiful sight, compared to the chilli, grey and windy city we experienced the day before. Luckily, I’d packed my sunglasses, which were a strange combination with my woolly hat.

We’d deliberately not rushed into Amsterdam this morning because we knew we’d still be here at 10:30pm, due to the night walking tour not starting until 8pm. 

We resumed our exploration of the city centre with the flower market, which we discovered we’d stumbled upon by accident the previous day. Engrossed in our explorations, time slipped past and all too soon it was lunchtime. Having checked out a bagel house across the street, we decided that would work well. The bagels were lovely and soft, freshly toasted with a wedge of fillings working together to provide a symphony of flavour. 

While we had access to the bagel shop’s wifi, we downloaded a walking tour of the old Jewish quarter. It was quite interesting, but by the time we reached the bottom end of the tour, our feet were feeling the effects of all the cobbles. The city hop-on-hop-off bus came to our rescue. Tickets purchased, the sales assistant was just pointing out where the bus stop was located, and then looked up, her face fell, and she added, “but there it is, so you’ll never make it in time.” I assessed the distance to the bus stop, the volume of traffic and our chances of success and yelled at the ladies to hustle themselves. Luckily, the traffic lights combined with the number of people already at the bus stop worked in our favour, and we made it in time. Although poor Char looked very puffed out.   

We rode a full circuit around the bus tour with the hot sun streaming through the glass-topped bus. It was very warm and, a combination of all the walking we’d been doing, and bright sunshine made all the female eyelids in our group feel very heavy indeed. Their nap over, we disembarked at the station, where (yes, dear reader, you guessed right,) we twisted Char’s arm and dragged her into a cafe for another cappuccino. As it had been a beautiful day, we decided to sit outside on one of the canalside tables.

While we were sipping our beverages, I began to silently contemplate our evening meal. Figuring there would be a gourmet burger place somewhere close by, a quick Google search revealed an establishment with 5-star reviews only a 5-minute walk away. Needless to say, when we arrived at the Burger Restaurant, both ladies complained and asked to go somewhere vegan.

Needing to avoid arriving too early at the meeting point for our walking tour, I consulted my map for a less direct route and noticed the Lego store was nearby. I always recommend visiting the Lego store in different European cities, because they often have a huge model of a well-known landmark. The Amsterdam store sported an impressive windmill.

A few streets away we found our meeting point at The Voyager Hotel. It was nestled at the top end of a street we’d walked along earlier that day, but it was hidden behind other buildings. Our guide was a real character with his long swept back hair, a short beard and an unbuttoned yellow camel hair coat. The other people on our tour were a group of five lads, fresh from Mumbai, intent on savouring everything Amsterdam had to offer. Consequently, they’d already been into a coffee shop to buy a joint (or three) and were full of smiles and laughter.

Our tour began with the guide highlighting a small Catholic church in the centre of the red light district, which had quickly become unpopular due to the area being entirely protestant. (So he said. The next day we found it unlocked, so judge this statement how you choose.) 

The harbour trading post was the next stop. This was where the merchants used to declare the goods they’d brought back to Holland.

The next landmark had a chilling tale. The bronze plaque marked the spot where a jazz player had fallen to his death while high on heroin. According to our guide, the city had a big drug problem back then, and he lay on the street for a couple of days before somebody noticed he’d passed away. The city started a clean-up, which led to the eventual legalisation of the coffee shops or brown cafes.

When we got to his favourite watering hole, we popped in to use their facilities, and for him to partake of a swift half. Our next stop was a painted bronze ear fixed to the wall. Back in the day, ear removal was the punishment for the working girls who served married men. The punishment, which was meant to deter them, didn’t last very long because the girls quickly worked out they could only be caught and punished twice. It then became a badge of honour.

A little further along the next street, he gave us a potted history of “Dutch Courage”, which refers to the extra-strong gin the sailors used to be paid with.

By now, the lads in our group were straggling behind, and despite waiting for them, only two of them caught us up. The guide queried where the remaining lads were, just before the others made excuses and left. Our host attributed this to the amount of weed they’d been smoking and the low temperatures. Being used to Mumbai’s climate, most of them had arrived with no coat or hat. A little further on we found ourselves at the foot of the afore mentioned church, and gathered a few steps away at a bronze statue in remembrance of one of the working girls who was killed by her client. 

We assumed he was about to say a date in the 1800s, or maybe at the start of the 20th Century. And you’d be wrong. Sadly, she died in 2005, I confess to feeling a bit stunned that the poor girl had suffered such brutality. But it ushered in more security for the girls. They now have cameras outside and panic buttons in the rooms. Along the next road and around the corner,r we were shown the small shop front bathed in red lights, with the girls standing or sitting in the window.

Our small side street ended and joined with another with a canal down the middle. Our guide highlighted the Moulin Rouge and some Peep Shows, both of which are local landmarks. 

Your scribe suspects that our guide had intended showing us all the things on his list, but then got bored with only three of us in the group due to the lack of interactions and feedback. A bigger group would probably have been more animated and kept him buoyant. He also looked like he was getting cold. Around the next corner, we found ourselves unexpectedly outside his favourite watering hole, with him bidding us a good night, before retreating back inside out of the cold to sample another swift half (or three).

Keeping our focus firmly on the hotel shuttle bus timetable, we scurried back to the station and managed to get a seat on the last bus of the evening back to the hotel.

Good night!