Amsterdam, 25–27 May 2019
Six years after my first visit, I returned to Amsterdam knowing just enough about the city to do it completely differently. The first trip had been full of walking tours, museums, couchsurfing, cycling to Holysloot and the extraordinary colour of Gay Pride. This one was shorter, more social and — according to the summary I left behind — destined to be remembered for the effect of space cakes on me, Maurice and Mattias.
The photographs preserve the respectable parts rather better than the disreputable ones. There are gardens, canals, an excellent breakfast and a cheerful group portrait. The space cakes themselves are nowhere to be seen. This may have been an accident, but it was probably good judgement.
A different Amsterdam
My camera roll begins on Saturday afternoon in the Rijksmuseum gardens, on the opening day of an exhibition of outdoor sculptures by Louise Bourgeois. Her enormous spider rose above immaculate flower beds beside the museum, managing to look elegant and faintly threatening at the same time.
From there, Amsterdam supplied the familiar combination of water, handsome houses and bicycles waiting just outside the frame. The sky was grey enough to make the buildings look even more theatrical, while the canal boats carried on beneath them as though none of it required a second glance.
Breakfast before bad decisions
Sunday started in a bright, split-level café with the sort of breakfast that suggests everyone is taking very good care of themselves. There was a berry smoothie decorated with coconut and chocolate, and a plate of pancakes covered in fruit, yoghurt and enough sauce to remove any remaining claim that this was the healthy option.
Across the IJ
Later that day we crossed the IJ on ferry 63 towards Buiksloterweg. Amsterdam’s free ferries are part public transport and part moving viewpoint: a few minutes of wind, water and skyline before the ramp drops and everybody disappears into the city again.
The part nobody photographed
The summary of this holiday is very clear about what was supposed to dominate the story: space cakes, and their hilarious effect on me and my trusty partners in crime, Maurice and Mattias. The camera roll is much less helpful. It records breakfast and a ferry, then falls completely silent for the rest of Sunday.
That absence may be the most reliable evidence in the whole album. Whatever happened was memorable enough to become the headline for the trip, but not organised enough to produce a single photograph. Some experiences are improved by careful documentation. Others are probably best left as a gap between two timestamps.
Proof of life
By Monday morning, the photographs return. Four of us are standing beside a canal in leather jackets and sunglasses, looking remarkably composed. This proves that we got up, got dressed and found our way back into daylight. It does not necessarily prove that everybody felt normal.
The final photograph is, fittingly, a display of cakes. These appear to be entirely innocent: lemon and poppy seed, banana bread, coconut cookies and something involving sweet potato. After a weekend whose missing chapter was defined by a very different sort of cake, ending the album here feels either beautifully circular or like a private joke I neglected to explain.
Second time around
My first Amsterdam trip is remembered through everything I did: museums, tours, cycling and the crowds of Gay Pride. Amsterdam II is remembered through the people I was with — and through one decision that left almost no photographic record at all.
It was shorter, less ambitious and considerably less informative as a travel guide. It may also have been funnier.