Max Euweplein and Tiny Souvenirs

Rick Steves' tours always end with a group dinner, our final gathering. And I think this was the first time on this trip where we had to walk in a little downpour on our way to the restaurant. We've been lucky with the weather; in fact, I know I was dressed too warmly on some days.



This scene caught our attention as we scurried by. In a pleasant interior courtyard surrounded by cafés and the ever-popular Hard Rock, this large chessboard with knee-high kings gets a lot of attention. The square is named after Max Euwe, a Dutch world chess champion. He is known for beating 14-year-old Bobby Fischer in 1957 with 20 moves.



We quickly took shelter under a row of tall, grey, Greek-style columns next to the square. Had we not had our heads tucked into our collars to avoid rain in our faces, we might've seen the Latin inscription above the colonnade--"Homo Sapiens non urinat in ventum." It supposedly translates to "People, don't pee into the wind." Good advice.



This is where we paused for Hilbren to give a little speech and hand out a little souvenir. I will add these tiny porcelain blue and white Dutch shoes to my miniature reminders of past Rick Steves' tours.

Our Traditional Old Friend, Plus Dam Square

Sam and I have a tradition of eating at McDonald's in all the European cities we visit. I mentioned to her when we arrived in Amsterdam (our last stop) that we hadn't done it yet on this trip... And yesterday, while walking with the group down the pedestrian street, Kalverstraat, guess what we spied?

So this afternoon, we found our way back to maintain our tradition. Some travelers consider it sacrilege to stop at a Burger King, a Starbucks, a McDonalds when out of the country. But we've stopped hiding from this; sometimes, you just need a "taste of home." (Yes, sir, we've seen a lot of museums in eleven days! I love this shirt!)

On the way back to the hotel, we walked again through Dam Square, which is the historic heart of the city. Amsterdam got its start here around 1250, when fishermen in this marshy delta settled along the built-up banks of the Amstel River. They built a "damme" to bloc the Amstel River and created a small village called "Amstel-damme." Get it?

My memories of Dam Square are from my very first trip to Europe in 1989. The square seemed bigger then (isn't that always the way?) and was busy, busy, busy with drunks, bums, and street entertainers, like this accordion player entering his "venue" today to join the mimes, jugglers, and human statues who still mingle with locals and tourists. I even remember from my first trip a person swinging on a trapeze which reached into the air! And all this was happening during the day--you can imagine what "events" were held in the evenings. But Amsterdam has been cleaned up over the decades and is not as seedy as my first impressions attest. And yet I have very fond memories of that trip.

The Bulldog Café Coffeeshop, towards where the accordion player is headed, is not the most famous or original Bulldog, which is in the Red Light District facing a canal. The chain claims to be the city's very first marijuana coffeeshop established here in 1975. It is a famous and well-known destination for all young American visitors--touristy like a Hard Rock Café. True connoisseurs (and Rick Steves' tour members), however, seek out smaller, neighborhood places with better-quality pot and those playing Donovan music for their older and mellower clientele.

The Outdoor Gardens of the Rijksmuseum

As we left the museum, our paths took us through the relaxing Rijksmuseum garden, also restored with an eye to Cuypers' original vision. It features statues, fountains, ponds, and five centuries of Dutch architectural artifacts.

Sam hopped into the middle of this fountain--and escaped without a drop.

Sculptures by Henry Moore (1898-1986), one of the most influential artists of the 20th century, are featured in the gardens. His monumental figures seem abstract, yet are clearly inspired by natural forms. On Moore's walks across the rolling English countryside, he would often collect animal bones which he sometimes literally transformed into sculptures.

A key theme in Moore's oeuvre is the reclining figure, in which the human body acquires a landscape-like quality. He tried to express--in stone or bronze--the energy he felt in nature: "I would like to think my sculpture has a vitality from inside it."

For example, his "Reclining Woman: Elbow" (above) was placed at the main entrance of the Leeds (England) City Art Gallery in 1982. Detractors complained: "Puzzling, suggestive, ridiculous, and diabolical," the Yorkshire Post commented. But that changed. When the sculpture was removed to be shown at the Rijksmuseum, the newspaper wrote, "You'll miss her when she's gone."

The sensual curves of the "Two Piece Reclining Figure: Cut" are interrupted by the incision in the center. Yet this also creates space, like the eye at the top (not visible in this photo), through which the sky appears. These hollows are typical of Moore's exploration of the sculpture's connection with its environment.

Henry Moore isn't the only sculptor featured in these gardens. "Mercury and Psyche" is a copy of a famous work by Adriaen de Vries now in the Louvre. De Vries worked at Giambologna's studio in Italy and for Emperor Rudolf II in Prague. As a result, he enjoyed considerable fame abroad, while remaining relatively obscure in the Netherlands. This copy was commissioned in 1890 for the Rijksmuseum garden.

I was also fascinated with this beautiful "street art" displayed in a shallow pond stretching out in front of the museum. We wandered around the neighborhood after leaving the museum, looking for a pastry shop my friend asked me to locate. We gave up after about 30 minutes and ended up at a souvenir shop where we bought some t-shirts. Then it was time for some lunch.

Rembrandt's "Night Watch "

This is one of the most famous and well-known paintings hanging in the Rijksmuseum and deserves a separate post. As usual, the more you learn about a painting, the more interesting it becomes. Rembrandt's masterpiece, the "Night Watch," his most famous--though not necessarily greatest--is a group portrait of a company of Amsterdam's militiamen, the city's civic guard. Rembrandt made the painting in 1642 at the age of 36 for their guild headquarters, the Kloveniersdoelen. It hung in the large assembly room, together with six other group portraits.

 

Standing in the foreground are Captain Frans Banninck Cocq (in black with a red sash) giving an order and Lieutenant Willem van Ruytenburch, focusing on the captain's every word. That Rembrandt depicted the militiamen in action is quite exceptional; until then, "sitters" in such group portraits were either standing or sitting stiffly next to one another.

The painting is full of action: flags waving, drums beating, the guardsmen (who, by the 1640s, were really only an honorary militia of rich bigwigs) spilling onto the street from under an arch in the back. It's "all for one and one for all" as the soldiers grab lances, load their muskets, and rush to Amsterdam's rescue.

Rembrandt used light to emphasize important details, such as the captain's hand gesture and the girl in the pale dress. She is probably the civic guard's mascot and is one of the figures Rembrandt added to animate the composition. The drummer at the far right and the boy running at the left were added for similar reasons.

The painting was a smashing success in its day. However, there are elements in it that show why Rembrandt soon fell out of favor as a portrait painter. He seemed to spend as much time painting the dwarf and the mysterious glowing girl with a chicken as he did the faces of his employers.

But Rembrandt caught the optimistic spirit of Holland in the 1600s. Its war of independence from Spain was heading to victory and the economy was booming. These guardsmen on the move epitomize the proud, independent, upwardly mobile Dutch. Compared with other, less famous group portraits, where every face is visible, well-lit, flat, and flashbulb-perfect, these people paid good money to have their faces preserved for posterity, and they wanted to be right up front. Other group portraits may be colorful, dignified works by a master...but not quite masterpieces. Rembrandt rousted the Civic Guards off their fat duffs. And by adding movement and depth to an otherwise static scene, he took posers and turned them into warriors--a simple portrait became great art.

Some other "Night Watch" scuttlebutt. First, "Night Watch" is a misnomer since it's a daytime scene. But over the years, as the preserving varnish darkened and layers of dirt built up, the sun set on this painting and it got its popular title. When the painting was moved in 1715 from the large hall of the Kloveniersdoelen to a smaller room in Amsterdam's town hall, three sides were lopped off so it would fit in between two doors in its new location! This resulted in putting the two main characters in the center and causing the work to become more static than intended. (Unfortunately, the pieces were lost.)



During WWII, when the Nazis where "shopping" for art throughout Europe, the painting was rolled up and hidden for five years. In 1975, a madman attacked it, slicing the captain's legs; and in 1990, it was sprayed with acid (skillfully restored after both incidents). Such a dramatic history.

Rembrandt's life darkened long before his "Night Watch" did. This work marked the peak of his popularity...and the beginning of his fall from grace. Free from the dictates of employers, he painted what he wanted and how he wanted. Rembrandt went beyond mere craftsmanship to probe into, and draw life from, the deepest wells of the human soul.

On our way out of the museum, a person is usually forced into the gift shop. This was a fun construction game for children based on the famous painting. But we didn't indulge in any retail therapy here today.

By the way, "Night Watch" is now back in its original position in this beautiful gallery at the center of the museum, exactly where architect Cuypers had originally placed it in 1885. And it is always surrounded by mobs of people.

Visiting the Rijksmuseum

The 17th century saw the Netherlands at the pinnacle of its power when they won their independence from Spain. Trade and shipping boomed; wealth poured in; the Dutch people were understandably proud; and the arts flourished. This became their Golden Age. And after so much sober religious art from the Middle Ages, artists discovered upper-middle-class businessmen in the Protestant republic who fueled Holland's capitalist economy and thus, commissioned big canvases to flaunt their prosperity. In the 17th century alone, five million paintings were hanging in those peoples' homes. Eventually, the best of these needed a place to be displayed.


This morning found our group marching to a guided tour of the Rijksmuseum (which means, the "State Museum"). Thanks to a ten-year, 374 million euros renovation, it once again matches the vision of its 19th century architect, Pierre Cuypers. Built in 1885 to house the Netherland's greatest art, a series of brutal 20th century renovations chopped up and painted over a great amount of the massive complex. But today, much of Cuypers' original Gothic-revival design is back: natural light floods large rooms with high ceilings and long viewing galleries surround two massive courtyards, walled up for half a century.

The Rijksmuseum has up to 8,000 works on display (from the 13th through the 20th centuries), including several thousand paintings. The incomparable collection of 17th century Dutch Masters includes those by Rembrandt, Vermeer, Hals, and Steen. Now, around the museum, many pieces are displayed together in their cultural context, making the exhibits a lively mix of Delftware, photographs, decorative objects, paintings, etc. The renovation has restored this great building to its original 1885 glory. And it's beautiful inside.

After an informative tour by a docent (we were divided into two groups), we were released to continue exploring on our own. It's a huge place and there were lots of things we wanted to see.



Of course, Sam and I were "forced" to try some fancy drinks and sweets in the fancy café before we continued our treasure hunt. It seems like we're now doing "morning cake and coffee!" Delicious!

Climbing up to the second floor on a staircase which hasn't been replaced since 1885, we entered the Great Hall. With its stained-glass windows, vaulted ceiling, and gilt moldings, this looks like the inside of many cathedrals we've seen on our travels. And it is--a cathedral to Dutch art and history. For more than 50 years, this space was painted over and used as a lobby and gift shop. For the recent restoration, it was returned back to Cuypers' design. The late-Victorian murals on the walls are original, restored after a long absence--the murals were deemed chauvinistic and taken down in the 1920s. They celebrate great moments in Dutch history--lots of explorers and warrior kings.

 

 

Who doesn't recognize Frans Hals' (1581-1666) the "Merry Drinker," which he painted in 1627? This jovial man in a black hat captures the earthy, exuberant spirit of the Dutch Golden Age. The militiaman merrily raises his glass of Berkemeyer to toast us. Hals' bravura painting style--the spontaneously applied brushstrokes enhancing the portrait's sense of liveliness and animation--ensured the continued success of the artist. We were now headed, along with many other museum visitors, to see the famous Vermeer section.

 

 

The master of tranquility and stillness, most of Vermeer's canvases show interiors of Dutch homes where women are engaged in everyday activities, lit by a side window. The Rijksmuseum has the best collection of Vermeers in the world--four of them. (There are only 34 in captivity, including "The Music Lesson" owned by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.)

 

 

In one of my favorites, "The Milkmaid" (1658), a maidservant, entirely absorbed in her work, pours milk  into a bowl. Except for the stream of milk, which you can almost hear, everything else is still. The sign next to the painting explains, "Vermeer took this simple everyday activity and made it the subject of an impressive painting--the woman stands like a statue in the brightly lit room. Vermeer also had an eye for how light by means of hundreds of colorful dots play over the surface of objects."

 

We saw much, much more, like Rembrandt's "Isaac and Rebecca: (a.k.a. "The Jewish Bride", 1667), but our minds were saturated and it was time to move on.

 

Rembrandtplein and Other Street Art

The site of this leafy square was another city gate in the defensive walls constructed to protect the city in the Middle Ages. It was renamed Rembrandtplein when this cast iron statue by Louis Royer (1793-1868) was moved here in 1876. Cast in one piece, it is Amsterdam's oldest surviving statue in a public space and stands on a grey granite base bearing a replica of Rembrandt's signature. Coincidently, the square is near where the famous painter owned a house from 1639 to 1656.

 

 

As part of the artist's 400th birthday celebration in 2006, Russian artists Mikhail Dronov and Alexander Taratynov made bronze-cast representatives of a jaunty group of statues from his most famous painting and displayed them around Royer's work. We'll be seeing the "Night Watch" tomorrow at the Rijksmuseum.

 

Evidently, this is quite a lively area, especially with late-night dance groups who party here into the wee hours. Sam and I just wandered upon it while we were looking for a pharmacy on our way home from the Van Gogh Museum. She hoped to find some heat packs for her black eyes.

 

 

We also came across this rough clay statue reclining on a half roof outside a restaurant. As I snapped the photo, some guy sitting in a courtyard said something about sharing in the profits from my photograph. Huh? And because he wasn't smiling, I pretended I didn't speak English (again) and kept walking.

Which way do we go? Actually, we knew where we were when we got back to the museums. Circular route, anyone? And after stepping into a hotel along the way to ask about the nearest pharmacy (which was just around the corner), Sam discovered that any heat pads they had for sale were w-a-y too big for her face.

The Van Gogh Museum

In 2000, on Sam's first trip to Amsterdam, neither one of us had any interest in Vincent van Gogh. Not only that, we only had about 45 minutes to visit the museum that day and chose, instead, to enjoy the sunshine and vast green space between the Rijksmuseum and Van Gogh's.

But tastes change--or mature. We are now more interested in Vincent--I've been studying and reading about him for the past several years--and we were both looking forward to discovering and exploring the place. So we used our free Thursday afternoon to visit his remarkable museum, which features works by the troubled Dutch artist--works of art which seem to mirror his life.

Vincent, who killed himself in 1890 at age 37, is best known for sunny, Impressionist canvases that vibrate and pulse with vitality. The museum's 200 paintings--which offer a virtual stroll through his work and life--were owned by Theo, Vincent's younger, art-dealer brother. Paintings were divided into five periods of his life--the Netherlands, Paris, Arles, St. Remy, and Auvers-sur-Oise.

The mix of his creative genius and his tumultuous life makes the museum as much a walk with Vincent as with his art. In fact, the paintings, arranged chronologically, leave a series of suicide notes and begin with some dark, gray canvases showing the hard, plain existence of the Dutch people--simple buildings, barren trees, and overcast skies--a world where it seems spring will never arrive.

"The Potato Eaters," painted in 1885, reflects a dark, cramped room lit only by a dim light and poor workers helping themselves to a steaming plate of potatoes. Van Gogh gave their heads "something like the color of a really dusty potato, unpeeled, of course." In line with the theory he was studying at the time, he obtained all his colors by mixing the primary colors red, yellow, and blue. The artist produced a large number of preparatory studies in the cottage of the peasant family that we see eating their meal here, but he made the final painting in his studio.

We really liked the displays and the very interactive audioguide. In fact, it was a SmartPhone-like device and while standing in front of a painting, we'd sometimes receive an email from Vincent. And if I could figure out how to open it....it was intriguing to read the information he provided about a painting or technique. Like the email about the "Courtesan" he painted in 1887.

In Van Gogh's day, many artists were keen collectors of Japanese prints, which presented them with a fresh way of looking at composition, the use of color, and perspective. In fact, Vincent and Theo built up a collection of their own Japanese prints. The "Courtesan" painting was based on a cover illustration for a magazine on Japanese art, using other models for the surrounding landscape which also displayed water plants, a frog, and a crane.

"The Bedroom" was painted in 1888--his actual bedroom in his "yellow house" in Arles--and this was the first version. The second version is in Chicago's Art Institute and the third, in Paris's Musee d'Orsay.

I really liked the openness of the museum, the bright wall colors--the same colors Vincent used--how the paintings were displayed, the general feel of the museum. I think Sam enjoyed it, as well.

A Begijnhof, the English Reformed Church, and Lunch at Blue

We have been introduced to Begijnhofs in other cities, a spot that's not only a tourist attraction but a place where people live. This quiet and peaceful courtyard, lined with houses around a church, has sheltered women since 1346 (and is quite a contrast from noisy Kalverstraat, along which we had walked after leaving the "hidden" church).

The Begijnhof was for centuries the home of a community of Beguines--pious and simple women who removed themselves from the world at large to dedicate their lives to God. When first established, it was literally a "woman's island"--a circle of houses facing the courtyard and surrounded by water.

This statue of one of the charitable sisters sits just beyond the courtyard's entrance near the church. The Beguines' ranks swelled during the Crusades when so many men took off--never to return--leaving society with an abundance of single women. Poor and rich alike--as well as those widowed by the hazards of overseas trade--turned their backs on materialism and marriage to live out their days as Beguines in Christian poverty and to serve others.

Very popular for their simple, unpretentious Christ-like dedication, they spent their days deep in prayer and busy with daily tasks--spinning wool, making lace, teaching, and caring for the sick. Though obedient to a mother superior, the members of the lay order were not nuns. In quiet seclusion, they provided a striking contrast to the more decadent and corrupt Roman Church, inspiring one another as well as their neighbors.

We then walked into the brick-faced English Reformed church, which was built in 1420 to serve the Beguine community. In 1578 when Catholicism was outlawed, the Dutch Reformed Church took over many of these Catholic monasteries. Still, the Begijnhof survived; and in 1607, this church became Anglican.

The church served as a refuge for English traders and religious refugees fleeing persecution in England. Strict Protestants such as the Pilgrims stopped in tolerant Amsterdam, praying in this church before sailing to religious freedom in America. In fact, the stained glass at the far end shows Pilgrims praying before boarding the Mayflower. And on the altar sits a Bible from 1763. Amazing history.

We were finally "dismissed" for lunch so Sam and I headed to the third floor of an American-like shopping center. Their "Blue" café, which Hilbren recommended, was modern, intimate, and comfortable with a beautiful view (also "blue" today).

And the food was great, too! We both had sandwiches but mine was an open-faced one with cheese, honey, and pecans. Ahhh, we needed the break and did I mention the view?

We were now fueled up for our next stop, the Van Gogh Museum.

The Singel Canal and Others

The Singel Canal, viewed from the Torensluis Bridge with the Mint Tower in the background, was the original moat running around the old walled city. This bridge is so wide because it was the road that led to one of the original city gates where the Mint Tower stood. The area still looks much as it might have during the Dutch Golden Age of the 1600s. This was when Amsterdam's sea-going merchants ruled the waves, establishing trading colonies as far away as modern Indonesia.

Fueled with this wealth, the city quickly became a major urban center, lined with impressive homes. Each proud merchant tried to outdo his neighbor and the buildings are varied. Crowded together, shoulder-to-shoulder, the houses are built on top of thousands of logs hammered vertically into the marshy soil to provide a foundation. Over the years, they've shifted with the tides, leaving some leaning this way and that.

The Singel canal is just one of Amsterdam's many canals. There are nearly 100, most about ten feet deep and covering roughly 50 miles. Why so many? In this marshy river delta, its citizens needed to keep the water at bay. So they built a dike, near where Central Station stands today, to keep out the sea tide surge and then they dammed the Amstel River. The excess water was channeled safely away into canals, creating pockets of dry land on which to build. Windmills, of course, were used to harness wind power and pump excess water into the canals. Locks near Central Station are opened periodically to flush out the system and control the flow.

Today, the city has about 100 canals, most of which are about ten feet deep. They're crossed by some 1,200 bridges, fringed with 100,000 Dutch elm and lime trees, and bedecked with 2,500 houseboats.

Some of the boats in the canals look pretty funky. That's because Amsterdam is an unpretentious, anti-status city. When the sun goes down and the lights come on, people cruise the sparkling canals with an on-board hibachi and a bottle of wine, and even scows can become chick-magnets.

De Papegaai Hidden Church

Continuing along our walk, Hilbren introduced us to some more sites where he thought we might want to explore during our free afternoon. Tucked amongst chain stores on the pedestrian-only Kalverstraat, he invited us into a "hidden church," not uncommon in some cities and countries around the world.

 

In the 1500s, Protestants were fighting Catholics all over Europe. Amsterdam had long made an effort to put business above ideological differences; but by 1578, Protestant extremists took political control of the city. They expelled Catholic leaders and bishops and outlawed the religion, stripping their churches of lavish decorations and converting them into Dutch Reformed churches. Simultaneously, the Dutch rose up against their (Catholic) Spanish overlords, and eventually threw them out.

 

For the next two centuries, Amsterdam's Catholics were driven underground. While technically illegal here, Catholicism was tolerated (kind of like marijuana is these days). Catholics could worship so long as they practiced in humble, unadvertised places, like this church.

It gets its name (De Papegaai) from a parrot carved over the entrance of the house that formerly stood on this site. I read that a stuffed parrot hangs in the nave as a nod to that original papegaai. But I didn't notice that. I know I was zoning out--we passed by and saw lots of stuff on this particular walk.

Today, the church asks visitors for a mere "15 minutes for God" (as the sign says: Kwartier voor God)--an indication of how religion has long been a marginal part of highly commercial and secular Amsterdam. I, of course, noticed the vertical French message along the wooden edge of the board: Un quart d'heure pour Dieu.