Both “Am” and “Mokum” are nicknames for Amsterdam. Mokum is a Yiddish word meaning “safe haven”. After a quick Uber to Boulangerie Carton in Paris, a Boulangerie within sight of Gare du Nord where we would soon be boarding our train to Amsterdam, we enjoyed a breakfast of coffee cremes and two almond croissants, which were much better than those from the previous morning. I ordered a Jamon Buerre sandwich and two chocolate eclairs to have for lunch on the train and we make the short walk to the station. While I had enjoyed the dining experience in Paris, I have to admit to being slightly underwhelmed with the quality of the dinner plats (entrees in Paris are starters), I had ordered. A steak med-rare prepared Hemingway style. When the steak arrived it barely had a hint of pink inside, the waiter, looking down his nose, declare there was pink to be seen ,thankfully it was a tenderloin and was passable and I wasn’t about to attempt a do over. We visited the Trois Mailletz for the entertainment. My overcooked, very large, prawns and Janet’s shrimp appetizer were not particularly notable. Our glass of Tiramisu came as a strawberry and cream concoction which was tasty enough so we didn’t mention the error of the order. There will be time for redemption on our return visit in September.
The train was on time and we made our way down the walkway to the last/ first car in the train and settled in to our reserved seats for the three and a half hour ride to Amsterdam. We finished our lunch and arrived at the Central Station in Amsterdam which was much different than the previous stations we had visited in Europe. It was not impressive inside and became a confusing maze of unlabeled hallway intersections and escalators needed to find the location of the pickup area for the Uber I had arranged. Finally we gave up and grabbed a taxi because it was drizzling rain and we had no idea where to find the Uber lot. The short ride to our hotel through the narrow cobble stone and brick lanes that ran along the canals, came with the usual driver fitness of taxis in Europe, dodging cars pedestrians and the bicyclists who seem to feel they have no equal as on the road as they whisk through intersections seemingly daring vulnerable pedestrians to get in the way. My lasting symbol of Amsterdam is of a tall, woman sitting upright on her bicycle with her blond hair flowing behind her. Of all of the many bicyclists we saw, I can’t remember one in the tight cycling outfit, bent over, grabbing down turned handle bars we are familiar with at home.
Our hotel, the Andanz Amsterdam Prinsengracht by Hyatt is located on a narrow brick street, Prinsengracht, that runs along a canal and is barely notable from the street. Once inside it was very elegant with a restaurant and bar. We were greeted with a Heineken for me and a Prosecco for Janet. There was a lush meditation garden in the courtyard. The hotel was stylishly decorated with both modern and traditional Dutch art prints. The elevator was spacious. When we arrived at our hotel in Paris the elevator was under repair. In fact, after the elevator was claimed to be fixed, they neglected to remove the numerous “Caution, Elevator Under Repair” on the doors but we decided it was worth the risk to avoid the narrow, circular stairs down from the forth floor, or was it the fifth? Not sure because the first floor was labeled zero on the “lift”. The Andaz was in a different class all together. The room was spacious with a big bed, a large walk-in shower and a more reassuring elevator. We settled in, got our bearings and took a rest.
At dinner time we walked a few blocks to a restaurant I had noticed earlier on the internet. The Cafe Klos was, well, it was close by. It was a classic Dutch dive bar. The menu declared proudly “SERVING MEAT TO THE MASSES SINCE 1971”. As we walked up the steps there was a horseshoe bar and a few benches with tables in the dark wood paneled dining room. There was an open display grill with glass dividers, clouded from the smoke off the grills. The atmosphere was dimly lit Ketch with only one dining area. We felt right at home seated at the bar. Our young female bartender was American and friendly enough and their idea of bourbon was Jack Danials, so I ordered a Gordon’s gin on the rocks and Janet had an Amstel draft along with an order of crusty bread with garlic butter while we looked over the limited menu. No place for a Vegan, the menu offered a choice of three steaks, prime rib, a grilled chicken, lamb chops or pork. The house speciality was spareribs cooked either Classic, Smoked or a mix of the two. A “Normal”, order was two bones, “A Lot” three bones and “Even More” four. We each got a Normal order and split a baked potato. I ordered a Die Blonde Barbier which was a light and tasty lager in a stem glass with a barber on the stemmed glass, that we both agreed was excellent. The food arrived with a very nice small chopped salad. I am a barbecue snob but the ribs were good and Janet loved hers. After a brief search for bottled water to take back we headed back to our hotel and called it a night. We had one full day left in the Dam and the Rijksmuseum will be the highlight. So welterusten and sweet dreams.
