Haarlem

We often forget that the Dutch were among some of the first settlers in the US, well, at least I do. But New York was originally New Amsterdam, I'm not sure how or why it was changed. And then there is Harlem with Amsterdam Avenue and probably other traces of the Dutch elsewhere in NYC.

Well, that has nothing to do with anything other than I wonder what the United States would be like if the Dutch had had more influence than the British. I still curse those Puritans for some of the "values" they left imprinted on American culture.

Ok, so today I went to the other Haarlem, the original.

My Lonely Planet said it was a nice day trip from Amsterdam, and it was.

To be honest, I would absolutely love Amsterdam if there were not hoardes of tourists here. I know it's kind of selfish to say, but I want the city to myself - just me and the Dutch. It is impossible for me to do something simple like make a run to the supermarket without having to run a major obstacle course of dopey and doped up tourists weaving their way along the narrow sidewalks trying to avoid getting hit by a bicycle. I know I am a dopey tourist too, but I wouldn't mind it so much if it were only me.

So as much as I like walking around Amsterdam in the early morning before anyone is up and out (it is really amazing to be out with hardly anyone on the street), today I felt like a little escape.

I wasn't really sure if I would make it to Haarlem. If I wasn't able to figure it out easily, I was just going to turn around and return home.

I walked to Central Station, happily finding a route that takes me to Dam Plaza that is not choked up with people. I was almost the only person and a few bikes passed me on my walk. From Dam Plaza I had to walk up Damrak, which was kind of crowded, but manageable. Then I got to the station and had no idea where to go. I walked in and right inside the entrance was an information booth where of course they spoke English (hear that Daegu?). The clerk directed me to the place I could buy my ticket. It was filled with foreigners standing in several lines to be helped by real people. There were also a bunch of ticket machines out in the station area, but I think I was directed to this "service area" because maybe it's too hard for tourists to figure out the ticket machines (I struggled but did get it at the airport). I was happy to wait to be able to talk to a real person.

I asked the clerk for a round trip ticket to Haarlem. She told me the platform and the time. I went up the stairs, the train was waiting, I got on, and in a few minutes, it left. Eeeeeasy! It was amazingly easy.

The train was very nice and comfortable and the scenery was also very lovely - farmland and apartment blocks,people cycling on trails.

I got to Haarlem in about 15 minutes and walked out of the station. The town seemed deserted compared to Amsterdam. I quickly figured out the direction I wanted to go and started walking. But because it wasn't that big, and there didn't seem to be many canals to throw off my sense of direction, I took a few detours when I saw something of interest, like a windmill or a church - two things that stood above everything else.

I was walking towards the medieval church and plaza and from there the Franz Hals museum.

I found both.

In the plaza next to the church there were lots of cafes filled with people. A big tent was set up in the plaza but I didn't know what it was for. It looked like something was still being set up.

I walked down a little street towards where I thought the museum was and came across a tourist information office. I got a map, directions to the museum and a ticket and was on my way to my first museum in the Netherlands.

It was a worthwhile trip and visit. The art was okay. Lots of Dutch masters kind of stuff. I didn't know which paintings were by Franz Hals and which were by other Dutch artists of his time. It didn't matter to me. The style of painting was familiar to me as was the subject matter - portraits of "important" people, Aristocrats, Aldermen, etc., landscapes and still lifes. My favorite paintings were the ones of a bunch of men who must of been Aldermen, Councilmen or some type of government body. In some of them, they were sitting at a table and each one was posed in a different way. They had those big ruffly collars. You could tell the artist had each one pose individually and then painted him into the painting as a composite portrait. There was something dynamic, but also comically forced about the whole thing.

I also liked one painting of a bunch of guys with Dutch boy haircuts painted in a row. They were painted in this Dutch style which was super realistic, but against a flat background, which gave them this almost collage type effect. Again, there was something kind of comical about the whole thing.

But for me the best part of the museum was the building itself. According to my Lonely Planet it was the poorhouse where Frans Hals spent his last years. So ironic.

It was a huge building with a very large central garden. Each room was in itself a masterpiece, lush wallpapers, elaborate fireplaces, detailed woodwork, and each room filled with all kinds of paintings, ceramics and metal work.

And best of all, the museum was hardly crowded. Often I was in a room by myself.

I went and sat in the garden where they were playing classical music and ate an apple and relaxed before returning to the central square by the church.

In the information office they told me there was a jazz festival, when I got to the square, I could see it had begun. But before getting there I saw a couple eating fried potatoes in a paper cone. I had seen a couple in the same area eating them on my way to the museum. I wanted them. Even though the ones I had the other night with garlic sauce were not thrilling, I thought I would try again. I had read that the Dutch way was with mayonnaise and peanut sauce. It was exotic enough to pique my interest.

So, following my incredible sense of smell, I finally spotted a little house that looked to be the origin of the fries. I walked in and sure enough, there were piles of cut potatoes, and a menu in Dutch (no English).

Well, I kind of knew what I wanted and just said "one order with peanut sauce" (I wasn't able to tell if they had the peanut sauce/mayo combination or not, but I did recognize peanut sauce and went just for that).

For 2 Euros I got a paper cone filled with freshly fried potatoes, cut from real potatoes, with a topping of a yummy Indonesian style peanut sauce (kind of like a satay sauce).

With my yummy fries (could this be the replacement for stroopwafels?) I walked over to the plaza where everyone was crowded under the big tent listening to jazz. There were some tables set up outside the tent for people to stand at and stalls with some people selling beer and other alcohol as well as oysters and crepes. To my disappointment, they didn't have..., you guess it, stroopwafels.... I was very disappointed, even though I wondered if I'd be able to eat one after the fries.

I stood at a table in the sun enjoying my fries and the music and then decided to get a beer. I had to buy a ticket first and then get my beer. It was 2.20 Euros for a little dixie cup of beer. Really a rip-off in my opinion, but it was nice to wash my fries down with beer and listen to jazz.

After finishing my fries and beer, I'd had enough of Haarlem and returned to Amsterdam, again, marveling at the efficiency and cleanliness of the train. Why can't we have something resembling a decent public transportation system in the US?

I took as much of a back route from Central Station home, but it was noticeably more crowded than Haarlem. I had to dodge tourists, bicycles and traffic to get back to the little quiet alley that runs to my apartment, which I was so glad I had found on my way out.

It's good to be home and to feel like I have a home here in Amsterdam. I am just madly, fanatically, seriously in love with this apartment. It's a beautiful day, I have the windows open and fresh air blowing through the apartment with the sun shining in. Down below, confused tourists walk around bumping into one another, consulting their maps trying to figure out where in the maze of canals they are, trying to avoid getting hit by a bicycle.