Bread at Last

Tonight I kind of ate in a restaurant recommended by Rick Steves for a traditional Dutch meal. My landlady listed another place but it's far away. Rick says this restaurant is so big, it hosts tour groups. Still, because it's famous, it's best to make a reservation. I got turned away and they wouldn't let me eat outside because it's too cold which is ridiculous since every other restaurant was serving outside. On the other hand, it was freezing. But, they said, go to the bar two doors down and you get basically the same food.  Basically?  They carried it from the restaurant.  I got the traditional poor man's meal, hutspot,  which is mashed potatoes with carrots in them, a big meatball, sausage, bacon and pickles and onions on the side. And real bread with butter. I knew it existed somewhere. It was the best meal I've had in Amsterdam.

  Then I walked to Rembrandt square for apple pie. I sat in one of the only outside areas with heaters.  Since every restaurant seems to have more outside than inside tables, I'm surprised no one has heaters, like every other civilized country in Europe. It's Friday night so there were loads of people meeting for a drink after work.  That's on every square--and there's a square at the end of every street.

The Dutch are just different. For one thing, I don't know why they insist on speaking Dutch when they all know English anyway. I checked their bicycles, too. They have no gears and they're all old and ratty. Most of them don't have a basket in the front; instead, they have wire racks in the front and back where they bungee their purchases. They might have a kid seat with a kid in it; meanwhile, they're talking on their cell phones, holding an umbrella over their heads, balancing some tulips, and maybe holding a leash for the dog running beside them. They're not as talented as the Chinese who can move furniture on a bike, but they're good. Meanwhile, there are very few crosswalks in this town which means pedestrians have to watch out for bikes, cars, and trams in order to cross the street.

I felt obligated to take a picture of Rembrandt on Rembrandt square since we share the same birthday (mine is a few years after his). The other picture is the flower market right in front of my apartment. You would think it would be bustling early in the morning with deliveries, but no--the people just open up their "garage doors" about 9 or 10 and close them at 6. The street is packed with tourists and I can't understand why. Who has room to take home a lot of bulbs. Plus, every one of these places has a website. And just what's so special about Dutch gladiolas anyway? Tulips, maybe, but bonsai trees?