By Collin Kornfeind
Turn to the person seated next to you, whether you know them or not, and ask them, “What’s the first that comes to your mind when you hear ‘Amsterdam’?” Odds are, if you’re reading this on campus, your seat neighbor won’t say, “Oh, the canals are supposed to be beautiful,” or, “They have a wide array of incredible museums.” The most obvious response will be: “Weed!” or “Red-light district!” Maybe even “Heineken!” if you’re lucky. “‘Shrooms!” if you’re extremely so.
When I got the letter stating that I was going to be studying in Amsterdam for my entire junior year of college, I started thinking about the things I’d miss at Hofstra. The list was admittedly short: friends, girlfriend, parties, the city, school clubs, Hofstra basketball. Now, two months into my term at the Universiteit van Amsterdam, the list is even shorter.
I’ve fallen in love with this city and not for its drugs (whose legal thrill passes quickly), its pay-by-the-minute women in windows (which I have yet to become desperate enough-or rich enough-to visit) or even its beer (which, I confess, is delicious and on tap at every pub). I have fallen in love with Amsterdam because of the things for which it is not stereotypically known. Now, I’m writing to inform you all of what Amsterdam really has to offer.
Upon my arrival, the sun was shining, people were trying their hardest to get me my directional bearings and exchange students were clinging to me out of mutual recognition of the “lost foreigner” face that we all wore that day. Everything has changed from the first day except the friendliness of the people. Exchange students don’t cling anymore either, now that they know where they are and what’s what.
It feels like I’m in the movie “Insomnia” half the time because the sun is almost always veiled by grey clouds. You get a newfound appreciation for that big star when you don’t see it for a week. Nonetheless, the weather doesn’t deter from the Dutch people’s infectiously high quality of life.
If you think New York is a liberal city, come here and behold the endless strips of gay bars, the infamous red-light district and stoners walking up to cops with spliffs in their mouths asking for a light. In fact, within the red-light district, there’s actually a corner where there exists one of the oldest churches in Amsterdam, a set of windows displaying some of Amsterdam’s finest tramps and a local kindergarten school-all about touching one another within a twenty-foot area. That’s liberalism. And yet, despite what some Americans would call mental corruption and degeneracy, the Dutch just let what is be. Those with baggage, check it at the door.
Is it healthy, this lifestyle? I’m not one to say. Is it healthy to have a legal drinking age of 21 when college starts with kids who are 17 and 18? One thing I do know: riding a bike everywhere is definitely healthy. Amsterdam is an incredibly flat, port city with bike lanes next to its cars and trams. Bikes even have their own light signals hanging next to the roads. Obesity is not as culturally acceptable here as it is in America. There isn’t something wrong with you if you’re fat in America, but it is considered a problem in the Netherlands. People here wonder what’s wrong with you if you’re fat and what you do with your life that you can’t get some daily exercise.
So, after a typical Dutch meal of frites (the “Pulp Fiction” referenced French fries with Dutch mayonnaise), cauliflower and a kroket (Dutch croquettes, which are like hot dogs in which no one knows what it’s actually made of, yet they do know that it’s fried, delicious goodness), one gets on a bike, pedals off the food and goes to the bar for some cold, tapped Heineken and ends the night with a nice stroopwaffle or hageslag. Hageslag is basically just thick, chocolate sprinkles that the Dutch love to put on everything. Stroopwaffles are like crack. Not literally, but you’ll get addicted to them just as quickly. They are rounded, thin, graham cracker-esque cookies that sandwich a thin layer of caramel. They come in sacks of 10 at every supermarket and will turn you into a junkie after the first bite. After a while you start thinking of the physical possibilities of intravenous stroopwaffles, just so you can get them into your body quicker. They’re that good.
Next time, I’ll hopefully get my stroopwaffle addiction under control and divulge some info on day-to-day life, the real-deal with the coffeeshops and the must-see sights of the ‘Dam. Until then, tot ziens!