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Non-fiction

Memories of Amsterdam

Martin Swapan Pandey
Five Asian and African journalists, who recently gathered in Hamburg to attend the IIJ Summer Academy 2012, set out on a trip to Amsterdam, the Dutch capital, one Friday in July. It was an experience to be remembered in years to come. Being in a European city for the first time in their lives was in itself an excitement incomparable with any other. And travelling to another city of the continent was a real adventure.
Founded in the 12th century as a small fishing village, Amsterdam is now the largest city of the Netherlands and one of the main tourist attractions in Europe. The name Amsterdam derives from “Amstelredamme" a dam on the river Amstel.
I did not know all these historical facts before reaching the city of about 800,000 people early Saturday morning after a seven-hour journey by bus. It was chilling chilling in its literal sense. It was in fact summer, but the temperature felt more like autumn and I was shivering in the cold. But my excitement kept me warm.
The first thing I was caught by was the automatic ticket machine that gave us tickets for public transport (bus and tram) for two days. It requires no human help and can collect the fare by itself, something unthinkable as yet in Bangladesh where I come from. "Europe has some intelligent machines machines with brains," I told myself. Most big cities in the Western world have such machines.
Having collected our tickets, three of us two from Vietnam and myself headed for the Jordaan neighbourhood where a friend of one of our Vietnamese colleagues lives.
The real excitement began when, after the morning tea, we set out for the Van Gogh Museum, the most visited museum in the Netherlands. Set up in 1973 in the memory of the great Dutch painter Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890), the museum houses the largest collection of his works. Free for journalists (one must bring one's press card along), the museum has more than 200 paintings, about 500 drawings and over 1,100 letters written by the artist. It offers a general audio tour, a multimedia tour on Van Gogh's letters and a special audio tour for children, in several languages, including English. In addition to the works by Van Gogh, the museum has a rich and varied collection of other 19th-century art.
City of canals
Coincidently, we paid the visit just a day before the anniversary of the master's death
at the age of 37 on 29 July of 1890, two days after he shot himself in the chest. It is understood that he had been suffering from some kind of mental illness and he took his own life because he felt there was no cure for his mental anguish.
Another fascinating thing about Amsterdam is its canal system. The plan for this was developed in the 17th century and three of these four canals, including the Emperor’s Canal and the Prince's Canal (their English names), were dug mosdy for residential development.
So in the evening, after a short visit around the Anne Frank House, we went on a guided boat tour on the canals. It was as refreshing as educating to find out how many secrets a waterway, an old bridge or a
shabby building can hold for hundreds of years. For example, many of the now-colourful homes by the canal were built in the 16th century as warehouses.
Sunday being our second and last day in the Dutch capital, we set out in the morning again to explore a little more about the city. We had wanted to visit a windmill village but changed the plan after taking the wrong route. Running out of time, we headed for the Amsterdam Museum. It opened in 1926 in a 15th-century building and has been relocated in 1975.
The museum exhibits various items related to the history of Amsterdam, from the Middle Ages to the present time and offers audio-visual facility like most museums in Europe. Also free for journalists, the museum has on display
paintings, models, archeological findings and photographs.
A tight call
Deeply engrossed in the sightseeing and some shopping for friends at home, we forgot that we had a 16:30 train to catch to return to Hamburg about 230 miles from Amsterdam. When we looked at the watch, it was 15:50, which means we had just forty minutes to go back to our "home" in Amsterdam, pack our things and reach the train station. Tension heightened with the passage of every second. "How will we go back if we miss this train?” I asked myself.
We started running towards our "home" after getting down from the tram, so fast so that our female colleague from Vietnam seemed to stumble, one of her shoes
coming off and landing a few yards away (she was quicker than me, I must admit). We started running again, now even faster, after she collected her shoes. We finally reached our home, packed our belongings and started running again. It was 16:10.
We were lucky that our friend in Amsterdam got a taxi cab that took us to the train station when the clock struck 16:25.1 heaved a sigh of relief and thought I heard several. After a painful train journey (the train to Hamburg stopped virtually at every station), we reached our home in Hamburg around midnight.
Tired, I went to bed. But Amsterdam kept calling me even as I closed my eyes. It still does and it does so so very intensely.
MARTIN SWAPAN PANDEY IS SUB-EDITOR, THE DAILY STAR.