3 Days in Amsterdam (+ The Hague)
Amsterdam first emerged in my consciousness as a tourist destination after reading The Fault in Our Stars in 2016 (a book I reread dozens of times as a teenager, and will stubbornly continue to love). Usually, the season determines our trip-planning decisions; we always try to see each place at its best. March across Europe is generally a ‘low season’ for tourism, as the weather hasn’t fully warmed up yet. It can be gloomy or unpredictably rainy. Additionally, for the Netherlands specifically, tulip season doesn’t hit until mid-April and May, which never coincides with a school break.
However, last March was my last college spring break (in my head, this felt like my last extended, no-responsibilities vacation ever; I now realize that work-life balance is possible) — so I was itching to visit at least one country I’d never been to before. Naturally, my mind went to Europe, with its convenient transit infrastructure. Ultimately, our 10-day itinerary took us to three countries: the Netherlands (Amsterdam, The Hague), Belgium (Antwerp, Brussels, Ghent, and Bruges), and France (Paris).
How did we decide on this particular constellation of destinations? I’d never been to the Netherlands or to Belgium, and had barely been to Paris (we hadn’t even gone to the Musée d'Orsay on our last trip, when I was ten!). Serendipitously, my mom and I stumbled upon news that the Rijksmuseum was to host a once-in-a-lifetime Vermeer exhibition from February 10th to June 4th, 2023, featuring the largest number of the artist’s works ever assembled. As of today, only 34 paintings are firmly attributed to him, and this exhibition would gather 28 from around the world. This rare opportunity sealed the deal for us. Focusing on city destinations also meant we could be relatively weather-ambivalent: these three countries are art and culinary havens with endless assortments of museums, cafes, and restaurants we could tap into, rain or shine.
Not so fast: a trip of near-misses
We started trip planning only a month in advance, so we immediately hit one unfortunate roadblock: the Vermeer exhibition was sold out. We desperately and determinedly looked for solutions: were there overpriced resellers? Hotels with ticket packages? Our solution ended up being simple and satisfying: friendship.
For €50 per year (or €75 per year for two people. For reference, a single adult entrance ticket is €22.50), you can become a patron of the arts as a Friend of the Rijksmuseum, which grants you unlimited free access to the museum and all of its exhibitions, use of a Friends Fast Lane and Cloakroom, invitations to previews of major exhibitions and evening opening hours, and discounts at the Rijksmuseum shop and cafe. I could scarcely believe it (I even emailed to double-check), but indeed, Friends could visit the Vermeer exhibition freely, through a faster queue, with no need to book an entry time. Even if the tickets hadn’t sold out initially, I’m so glad we found out about their Friends program because we ended up visiting the museum twice, and that still did not feel like enough time to fully appreciate everything the Rijksmuseum has to offer.
Tickets secured, I went on trip planning as usual, only to realize a week prior to the trip that I hadn’t received my new passport, which I’d mailed out for renewal in January. It was March 6th, and our flight to Amsterdam was on March 15th. Chaos and tears ensued. I contemplated paying enormous fees for expedited processing services of unclear legitimacy. I stayed on hold with Chicago’s Passport Agency for hours only to be told there were no more appointments in Chicago prior to my travel date. Passport agencies in the US don’t have an online reservation system. You just have to keep calling them (and being put on hold) until, by chance, a slot opens up at the time of your call. Thus, I called repeatedly, and even desperately made an appointment at the Buffalo Passport Agency (though I’m not sure how I intended to get to New York from Illinois with no photo ID), before finally, miraculously, getting a March 13th appointment at the Chicago agency. In the meantime, I rushed to Chicago to apply for an Illinois state ID, which I’d need to bring to my appointment since I didn’t have my old passport for identification. I ended up spending the entire day in Chicago, waiting first for my check-in to the counter to verify my documents and itinerary, then for my new passport to be printed, before rushing back to campus for a final presentation. Lesson learned: get your passport renewed well in advance of any international travel!
I cannot sufficiently verbalize the relief I felt holding onto my new passport. I knew there had been a very real possibility that I wouldn’t be able to go on the trip at all; at that moment, I felt that as long as I stepped foot on European soil, I would be grateful for whatever happened on the trip. This wouldn’t be the end of our misadventures, but for the most part, this was a gloriously vibrant itinerary in terms of art and cuisine. Amsterdam certainly secured a spot in the list of my favorite cities in the world.
Day 1: Rijksmuseum, Van Gogh Museum, Grachtengordel, Bloemenmarkt
After a smooth direct flight from Chicago to Amsterdam, we arrived in the morning and dropped our bags off at Sonder Park House. This hotel is right by Vondelpark and only a 10 minute walk from the Museumplein, but our room with two twin beds was tiny. We couldn’t open our suitcases flat without opening the door. I generally like Sonder developments — they’re often well-located and relatively affordable — but if you’re at all claustrophobic, pay attention to your room’s square footage.
We headed straight to the Rijksmuseum, which opens at 9am, to be first in the Friends line. To be honest, besides the fame of Girl with the Pearl Earring (c. 1665) and The Milkmaid (c. 1657-1658), I had little knowledge or appreciation of Johannes Vermeer prior to doing the research for this trip. His paintings certainly appealed to my taste with their contemplative, interior scenes and delicate lighting. His small oeuvre contributes to his allure, as every opportunity to view his work feels precious.
Reading more about the mysteries and quirks of his life and work quickly piqued my curiosity. It’s unclear whether Vermeer had any formal training in painting, yet he used exorbitantly expensive pigments early and often in his career, and there is limited evidence that he created any preparatory sketches or tracings for his paintings. The realism of his lighting, perspective, and detail has led to speculation that Vermeer used tools such as curved mirrors and/or a camera obscura to create his paintings — a theory explored in the fascinating 2013 documentary, Tim’s Vermeer, where inventor Tim Jenison spends five years attempting (successfully!) to recreate a Vermeer using a camera obscura. It’s interesting to ponder how Vermeer may have created his intimate, photorealistic works, whether they were the products of sheer talent and artistic vision or an innovative use of new technology.
By the time we were on the Rijksmuseum’s doorstep, I was filled with anticipation for my first gaze at one of his masterpieces. Neither of us really believed that our loophole would work until we actually stepped foot into the Vermeer exhibition. Hearts in our throats and misty-eyed, we breathed a shared sigh of relief when we came face-to-face with the first two humble pieces: The Little Street (c. 1658-1659) and View of Delft (c. 1660-1661). The description of this segment of the exhibition read: “Venturing into Town.” Starting out the exhibition with the only two paintings not focused on human subjects was a smart re-orientation on the curator’s part. In this dimly-lit corner, visitors coming from all over the world are at once placed in Vermeer’s hometown of Delft and begin the exhibition by considering: where (in place and time) was Vermeer coming from? What might his daily life have looked like?
The exhibition then moved from mythological and religious paintings to Vermeer’s first interiors, including one of my now-favorites: Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window (c. 1657-1658). A green curtain of exquisite detail (notice the fine tassels and stitching at the bottom of the curtain!) seems to hang in front of the painting, creating depth. The large painting-within-the-painting behind her, which was actually hidden under white overpaint until 2019, features Cupid, the god of love — is it a love letter? Interestingly, variants of the Cupid painting are included in some of Vermeer’s other works as well. The girl’s reflection shimmers in the window.
I’ve always been drawn to art that emphasizes interiority and bestows significance and complexity upon the seemingly mundane, whether this takes the form of novels focused on characters’ internal dialogues, sculptures that make monuments out of daily life, or paintings such as Vermeer’s, which allow us a glimpse into Dutch middle-class life. His most famous, intimate work complicates this pattern as it isn’t a portrait, but a ‘tronie’ (painting of an imaginary figure). His soulful Girl with the Pearl Earring’s rare reciprocated glance towards the audience has invited imagination of numerous stories, which can never be confirmed — or perhaps, more optimistically, can never be disproven. I suppose in truth, the private experiences of any figures depicted in painting (and even the other people in our lives) are as much a mystery to us as the story of this captivating imagined girl.
Beyond the Vermeer exhibition, the Rijksmuseum has its own enormous, world-class collection including masterpieces such as Rembrandt’s enormous The Night Watch (1642), Jan Asselijn’s dynamic The Threatened Swan (1650), and of course, many sumptuous still-lifes (this one by Willem Claesz Heda is stunning). After exploring the galleries, we took a break with lunch at RIJKS, their one-Michelin-starred restaurant featuring both a la carte and tasting menu options, often inspired by their exhibitions (we had a white-and-blue ‘Milkmaid’ dessert, for example). At €65 for a four-course lunch menu, the pricing felt fair for the quality and presentation. We were particularly impressed by their signature dish, a millefeuille of beetroot.
Once you’ve gotten a satisfying taste of the Rijksmuseum, head to any of the other art museums nearby! We didn’t get a chance to properly visit the Stedelijk Museum of contemporary art and design or the Moco Museum, a smaller collection of modern and surrealist art, but both come highly recommended and Moco’s garden is a lovely spot for some people-watching.
Our next stop at the Museumplein was the Van Gogh Museum, to enjoy the world’s largest collection of one of our favorite artist’s works. There, we learned more about Vincent’s close relationship with his older brother Theo, an art dealer, and how his work achieved prominence after they both died because Theo’s wife Johanna worked to promote Vincent’s art and ensure he received recognition. Here’s a passage I particularly like on Van Gogh’s art:
“You could say that we’re drawn to van Gogh because his life crackled with complexity. You might also say that this is putting the cart before the horse—that any life or object, no matter how ordinary-seeming, contains multitudes, if we bother to look. This happens to have been the premise of van Gogh’s art. The plainer his subject, the more he found. “When the object represented is […] at one with the way it is represented,” he wrote in June, 1889, “isn’t that what gives a work of art its quality?” Here and elsewhere in his letters, he doesn’t sound as though he’s making things look a certain way. He’s just reporting, with a sort of scientific rapture, on how they really are—exaggerating the essential, as he put it.” (Jackson Arn, The New Yorker)
After gazing at Van Gogh’s vivid curlicues, the world outside the museum looked more vibrant, especially as the cloudy sky turned blue. We strolled around Amsterdam’s iconic canal area, Grachtengordel, to take photos and stumbled upon the Bloemenmarket, a flower market floating in the canal.
From there, it was a short walk to Restaurant Flore. I couldn’t have picked a better fine dining restaurant to kick off our trip; it was flawless in terms of flavor and service. My strong recommendation would be to go with their vegetarian menu. While my mom’s omnivore menu was still excellent, the vegetarian menu was so inventive. Each bite is dainty, but there are many courses and by the end, you’ll definitely feel satisfied. The chefs present each course and this kitchen displays mastery over every flavor: sour, umami, sweet, spicy. We especially enjoyed their surprise experience: each table is invited to privately enjoy one of their courses in the kitchen, so you can watch the magic happen!
Day 2: Anne Frank House, the Royal Palace of Amsterdam, Foam, more Rijksmuseum, Vondelpark
The focus of our first day was art, and the focus of our second was history. Any first-time trip to Amsterdam must include a visit to the Anne Frank House, a biographical museum dedicated to Anne Frank’s story and the history of the Holocaust. The tour includes a segment where you will walk through the Secret Annex where Anne Frank’s family and four other Jews sought refuge from Nazi persecution for over two years. Their family’s story feels particularly devastating because they were deported on one of the last trains from the Westerbork transit camp to Auschwitz. Anne’s writing is filled with her hopes and dreams for a future that could very nearly have come to fruition. I cannot imagine the grief of Otto Frank, who searched for his family and friends after returning to the Netherlands from Auschwitz, only to realize he was the sole survivor of those who had hidden in this house.
When visiting Anne Frank House, I kept thinking, how could humanity reach this point? The Holocaust birthed theories such as Hannah Arendt’s ‘banality of evil’: unimaginable atrocities can be committed by people who seem good or at least ordinary, in the name of duty or following the law. For all of the actively hateful, antisemitic, hyper-nationalistic Nazis, there were many more bystanders acting out of fear or ignorance — motivations that many can sympathize with — but in retrospect, we still collectively agree that genocides are devastating and inexcusable. The heroes we uplift are those who overcame the ease of compliance or inaction in order to save lives, as well as those who documented what was happening for posterity. Museums, war memorials, and documentaries on the Holocaust and other historical tragedies all implicitly have a goal of preventing such things from occurring again. We believe that with more information, we will do better. Now, we live in what has been dubbed the ‘Information Age,’ but I worry that this abundance hasn’t created a more thoughtful, informed society, but one bombarded by profitably polarizing ‘news’ delivered with the intent to spark immediate, strong reactions rather than to shape people’s longer-term values and decision-making.
On any side of a conflict, there is room to ask why you feel strongly about your beliefs: what facts form the foundation? Be honest with yourself. What would it mean for you to change your mind, and do you feel like you would be able to change your mind if you received new information that supported ‘the other side’? What consequences do you endorse by holding your belief? What kind of person would hold your belief, and is that who you want to be?
Inside Anne Frank House, you find people asking themselves what they would have done if they had the ability to help. Most people won’t be heroes or world leaders in their lifetimes, and we’re not always able to provide direct support to those affected by an ongoing conflict. Yet, what you believe still matters. As the world grows more volatile and uncertain, it’s more important than ever for people to remain committed to being good: to raise or teach empathetic and compassionate children and to learn from our predecessors’ mistakes. Call me an idealist, but in a Rawlsian, ‘veil of ignorance’ sense, I think most people want to live in a society where they trust that leaders have civilian interests at heart, and where every person is afforded the dignity to live in safe conditions (and be treated as a person!) regardless of the specific socioeconomic or geopolitical circumstances they are born into. I hope that for all of the sanctity we confer upon history, we actually learn from it — “never again” for all.
We walked to Amsterdam’s Oude Kerk (Old Church), but since their tower — which typically offers a panoramic view of the city — was closed for the season, we ambled around the world’s most infamous Red Light District instead. In the daytime, it seems the main attraction here are the many ‘coffeeshops’ (establishments that legally sell cannabis products). Though the Red Light District also has a fascinating history if you’d like to read more about it, this wasn’t really our scene.
Next, we walked to the Royal Palace, which was originally built as a city hall during the Dutch Golden Age in the 17th century. Their audioguide was also fantastic for in-depth explanations of the building’s design choices. Every statue had some meaning, especially focused on the importance of peace and trade to the Netherlands. For example, maps on the marble floor documented the Dutch understanding of world geography, and by extension, revealed the extent of their colonial expansion.
If you’re willing to go a little out of the way, my #1 Amsterdam food recommendation is De Kas, located in a greenhouse and park about a fifteen-minute drive from the Oude Kerk. They’ve been awarded one Michelin star and one Green star, indicative of their ‘plant-to-plate’ efforts to draw on local, fresh ingredients. They grow about 300 varieties of vegetables, herbs, and fruit on-site and in their larger field in the Beemster Polder (a UNESCO World Heritage Site—dating from the early 17th century, the Beemster Polder is the first polder reclaimed from a lake. Its well-preserved landscape of fields, roads, canals, dykes, and settlements is included in the list as an exceptional example of reclaimed land).
De Kas offers 3/4-course lunch menus or 5/6-course dinner menus at extremely reasonable prices for the level of creativity and presentation. We could not get enough of their celery dip, which came with the free bread. Even once the bread was gone, we eagerly scraped any remaining, glistening celery goodness out of the bowl. We also enjoyed the cod, which was so tender and smooth that it felt textureless (a step beyond melt-in-your-mouth). With the sun streaming into the greenhouse terrace where we dined, our lunch could not have been more enchanting.
After lunch, we were ready to wander back into the art world: we visited Foam, a photography museum. There was an interesting exhibition on gentrification in cities, and a substantial exhibition on Ernest Cole’s documentation of the Apartheid in South Africa (House of Bondage, 1967, reissued in 2022). We also revisited the Rijksmuseum, including the Vermeer exhibition; this time, we wandered around more slowly to pay attention to each texture and detail. Our long day of walking was completed with a surprisingly satisfying dinner at Wagamama. Noodles will always be our choice comfort food!
Day 3: Day trip to The Hague (Peace Palace, Mauritshuis, Kunstmuseum, Nederlands Dans Theater)
We could scarcely believe our luck when we woke up, again, to a blue sky. We enjoyed a charming breakfast at Gartine, a cozy organic restaurant serving breakfast, lunch, and high tea. There are only ten tables, but we arrived right when they opened at 9:30am and didn’t have to wait (it was packed by the time we left!).
We enjoyed the 18-minute stroll from Gartine to the train station, Amsterdam Centraal, enchanted by flocks of birds and beautiful architecture along the way. When we arrived, we realized we could try to catch an earlier train to the Hague since the tickets weren’t associated with specific times or seat reservations. Our new train had a transfer stop at Schiphol Airport, but we ultimately arrived in the Hague at the time we originally would have departed from Amsterdam.
Our first stop was the Peace Palace visitors center, which walks through the histories of the International Court of Justice and the Permanent Court of Arbitration. We couldn’t help finding it ironic that the first World War started a year after it opened in 1913 (and we were both surprised to learn that the Peace Palace is managed by the Carnegie Foundation).
Nevertheless, I enjoyed thinking about the process of designing a physical space to represent peace. The palace is constructed from a combination of brick and stone, sourced from various countries; the interior also contains international contributions, such as woodwork from Indonesia, marble from Italy, and tapestries from Japan.
From there, we were charmed by all of the cute cafes on the way to the Mauritshuis, which accurately describes itself as the most beautiful museum in The Hague. Their collection is relatively small, at under 900 items, but includes the best of Dutch Golden Age painting. For example, typically, Vermeer’s Girl With the Pearl Earring is housed at the Mauritshuis. Artists featured prominently include Rembrandt, Jan Steen, Frans Hals, and Jacob van Ruisdael, amongst others. When we visited, they were also showing a temporary exhibition on Jacobus Vrel, a relatively obscure forerunner to Vermeer with similarly serene interiors.
Since we’d arrived in The Hague earlier than expected, we had time to squeeze in the Kunstmuseum — and though we had to rush through the museum before it closed at 5pm, I’m so glad we did! The Kunstmuseum is renowned for having the largest collection of Piet Mondrian works in the world, including Mondrian’s unfinished last work, Victory Boogie-Woogie (1944).
It was particularly interesting to see how his work evolved over time: his earliest paintings were naturalistic or Impressionistic, mostly depicting trees and houses or windmills reflected in water. Even working within this era of Dutch art, Mondrian developed a distinct style. He worked hastily, in short brushstrokes or in dynamic lines. In 1917, as the Netherlands began to industrialize, Mondrian and other young artists launched a journal, De Stijl. These artists were looking for a vivid, modern, and optimistic form of art.
“To Mondrian, art was more than merely a representation of reality. He had a higher purpose, a universal art. He found support for his ideas in theosophy, the spiritual movement that rejected materialism in search of inner wisdom attained through the development of the mind. The more false elements like superstition and empty forms were purged from existing religions, the closer one would come to the core of all belief. The same applied to art. From the very beginning, Mondrian was in search of a radical harmony that would lead to an abstract art.” (Kunstmuseum, ‘A Universal Art’)
For modern art skeptics, Mondrian’s works feel like a typical target of the critique, ‘those are just lines and colors; anyone could make that.’ Indeed, he was never commercially successful; for much of his long career, he produced more palatable watercolors of flowers to support himself. Yet, his project wasn’t to create beautiful, decorative forms or to represent the world as it was. He saw in light and color access to the profound and spiritual, and a way to “make tangible the spirit of the coming age.” Towers became strong vertical motifs; seascapes were horizontal. The utopian, abstract visual vocabulary he created has resonated with many, influencing fashion, architecture, and even music.
I was struck by an exhibition description that talked about how, when Mondrian reflected on his earlier works, he felt he was influenced by everything: “There is no ‘within us’ to counteract the intrusive force of the ‘outside us’ […] as one grew more self-aware, so the ‘inner’ grew, counterbalancing outward appearance and tradition. A new visual outlook then emerged.” While most of us don’t spearhead new artistic periods (or even diverge from external influences) upon developing self-awareness, it did make me wonder how I might visually trace the development of my own sense of self. In Mondrian’s earliest art, he grappled with the same questions and goals that led him to develop Neo-Plasticism; his most recognizable pieces are now seen as the maturation or ‘conclusion’ of those initial impulses. In contrast, like most people, I will optimize for many different things throughout my life, rather than pursuing a single goal or acting according to a single guiding principle. Perhaps this makes the exercise of isolating my core motivations even more interesting — what lines of thinking can be found across all of my decision-making? As my external activities change, what are the constants of my ‘inner’ life?
When we visited, the Kunstmuseum was also hosting a fantastic temporary exhibition, Escher: Other World, featuring many of Maurits Cornelis Escher’s curious tessellations, optical illusions, and impossible architectures. My first memory of Escher was having to replicate his tessellations in middle school geometry classes, so I hadn’t associated him with the art world at all. It was interesting to read about how his mathematical designs were initially inspired by the decorative tiles in the Alhambra and the architecture of Cordoba’s mosque — and it was impressive to see hints of Surrealism in his futuristic prints of endless staircases or birds with human faces, despite the fact that Escher never formally interacted with the Surrealists. Some people are simply imaginative!
We enjoyed a lovely dinner at Restaurant Basaal, which really solidified the Netherlands as one of my favorite culinary countries — I wish I knew how to make vegetables taste so good.
After dinner, we headed to the Amare concert hall for a performance by the Nederlands Dans Theater (NDT), Climb the sky. I have been a fan of NDT for years. When I still took dance classes, I watched their rehearsal videos religiously and was consistently inspired by their inventive choreography and the sincerity and fluidity of their movements. I admittedly added The Hague to our itinerary in large part to be able to watch them perform. The show was incredible; perhaps one of my favorite live performances I’ve ever seen. I was particularly blown away by the last performance, Out of Breath, which included stunning partner work. Johan Inger choreographed Out of Breath after the dramatic birth of his daughter, and the piece addresses how “that anxiety [of the ever lingering presence of death] is constantly surpassed and transcended by the vibration and passion for life.”
Our affordable tickets (37.50 Euros each!) had a fantastic view, and we were surprised and delighted to find that the intermission included free red and white wine. If only the arts were so accessible in the United States!
While we’d originally planned to take a late-night train back to Amsterdam, we knew from our experience in the morning that we could take an earlier train, so after the show, we sprinted to the station in the rain. We ended up arriving back at the hotel an hour earlier than anticipated, which gave us more time to rest (and reflect upon our art-filled day) as we looked forward to our next stop: Antwerp, Belgium.
