Katie Compa: Comedian

Eurotrip: Amsterdam - Coffeeshop Roundup

You know what they say: “When in Rome…. eat all the pasta!” No, no, I’m pretty sure that’s it. Don’t correct me.

Since I was in Amsterdam, I decided I was gonna do that. Not with pasta, with the other thing. I will tell you, the sight of a woman showing up alone to a coffeeshop was met with a range of reactions. Mostly impressed (I got an undisclosed number of head nods), quizzical (“You sure?” Yes, I’m sure. My euros are good. Hand it over) and just plain bored, which obviously I respect the most. And, um, that’s it, because I definitely only went to three coffeeshops.

I was in town for a week, minus Queen’s Day recovery time, and I spent a lot of time at museums (because I was alone and just out of a coffeeshop, and they’re relatively safe places). (I also did not consume marijuana outside the safety of coffeeshops because, naturally, my Locked Up: Abroad phobia kicked into high gear while here.)

If you ever go to Amsterdam, whether or not you plan to go to coffeeshops, get the IAmsterdam card. It is fantastic. You can get it for 1, 2 or 3 days, it gets you an unlimited tram card (which is worth it right there), a slew of discounts at places you were going to go anyway, and free entry into most of the city’s museums. AND you can cut the line at the Van Gogh! It’s the American way.

So, coffeeshops and museums. Coffeeshops… and museums… Museums and coffeeshops! (Really though, I will say it beats the “just museums” I was dealing with in Ireland.)*

First up:

• Barney’s Uptown
  
  I got up (relatively) nearly for this one, because I read on the interwebs that it was going to be crowded. Nope! Not even a little bit. It was me, another lone dude, and a couple with an iPad, who obviously irked the hell out of me, all flashing their Apple products right in my face. But I got a really good smoothie (I would’ve gone bigger, but I was saving myself for a pancake lunch).

After breakfast… and lunch (the bacon-and-cheese pancake won. It owned me. I was a broken woman), I made it my business to go to the Museum of Bags and Purses, and oh my god, I went G6** in that place. There were the most awesome bags. From throughout history. Historical purses! No one ever thought to mention this shit when we were learning about the Renaissance?! I would have been a History major. Anyway. BAGS! It was AWESOME. I was slightly disappointed with the gift shop, though.

I mean, can’t a girl get a replica of this shit? It is so PRACTICAL.

There was also a photo of Imelda Marcos, which I don’t think I need to explain.

A moment of silence for our hero, please, everyone.

• Coffeeshop Trinity
  
  This was moved from a building adjacent to a construction site that was blocking the front door… TO A TRAILER.
  
  
  
  But look inside!
  
  
  It’s just like a regular coffeeshop/dorm room, batik print hangings and all! I adore it.
  
  

Then I left and saw some combination of the the Canal House-Van Loon-Rembrandthuis. Basically all the same thing, houses redone in the style of when Dutch people were rich as hell. The Rembrandthuis (click English Language, unless you’re tripping on acid, which I believe is the only way to learn Dutch) was restored kiiiind of as Rembrandt had it— actually, the studio is pretty cool because it looks just like his painting of it. And! Beds were way short back then, because everyone slept sitting up, because they thought they could die from A Rush of Blood to the Head (f*** off, Coldplay). It was my favorite of those three museums.

• Coffeeshop Amnesia
  This is the coffeeshop that my friends and I frequented on a 2008 visit to the ‘dam. Lots of Americans, just like the last time. Bonus: They have a juice bar.
  
  
  (It’s just regular juice.)

Then I went to the Woonbootmuseum.** That’s the houseboat museum, decorated roughly as the residents had it, and it was awesome. I really, really, really want a houseboat. In Amsterdam. Seriously, if it’s not in Amsterdam, I don’t want it. Well, that’s not precisely true. I actually saw a nice one in Paris, and I would accept that one, IF good faith could be proven ahead of time w/r/t the Amsterdam houseboat and there was an actionable plan in place to accede to one eventually. Got it, Dutch boys? Bring it.

Anyway, when you walk in the girl at reception says, “What is your mother language?” (cute), gives you an info card, and says, “Please feel free to sit down!” And you can buy an espresso from her and just… hang out in the living room on the houseboat. That is awesome. If I’d been there with someone I would have taken over the couch for hours. As it was, I just stared at all the other visitors like they had just walked into my living room uninvited. They weren’t fazed, oddly. My bitchface is pretty well practiced.

I did take the time to sit and read a book about houseboats, and I almost bought this one about the Communists trying to take away this man’s houseboat. I think I love with him in an eccentric great-uncle sort of way.

They also had a sleeping area, with a creepy fake hand sticking out of the sheets as if an 8th-grade haunted house, and a little movie theater with a brief documentary about houseboats in Amsterdam. I watched it… one and a half times. I mean, I love sitting, and movies, but a girl’s gotta have some self-respect. Also, I almost took an accidental nap.

The kids’ quarters were kid-sized, and so adorable that they may or may not have caused me to spray ova all ova the boat. (Heyoooo!)

The thing next to my arm is the top of the door.  TINY DOOR!

 
Five-year-old Katie is JEALOUS right now.

Then I went and checked off “pickled herring” from my list of things that I put in my body that day.

It was extremely slimy, but I still finished. That’s what she said. I’m sorry. I can’t help it. It’s a disease. That’s what sh— sorry, SORRY.

Anyway, now that we’re done with the coffeeshop and museum tour, here’s my real question about Amsterdam: Where are my prostitutes? It is seriously taxing walking around the red light district making eye contact with women prostitutes in a way that is supportive, non-judgmental AND ALSO being clear that I’m not trying to solicit their services. No matter which of those I’m trying to achieve, I’m pretty sure my face looks exactly the same (awkward. Also probably why my bitchface didn’t actually scare any of the visitors off the houseboat), but it’s not comfortable.

Finally, a word of warning: Amsterdam has a lot going on at pretty much all times, so sometimes something like this will happen after you’ve just been in a coffeeshop, and you should take a picture of it so that you can look at it later to determine whether you are in fact losing your mind.

I still don’t know.

*I am GOOD WITH THE FRIDA KAHLO, OKAY? Yes. I agree. She’s awesome. No, I love looking at her interpretation of her multiple miscarriages, depression and relationship with her philandering twice-her-age muralist husband. SERIOUSLY, WHERE THE F IS SALMA HAYEK?

**Girl 6000. I made it up! It’s funny, ri—.

***I should note here that I have no clue which day I did what. I definitely did all of these things, just probably not in this order.