An Amsterdam afternoon

On the afternoon of Day 3 of the cruise I took leave of Mrs PBT’s and headed off into Central Amsterdam. In contrast to the previous day’s sunshine, Sunday was wet and windy, although by the time I’d left the ship the rain had largely eased off and turn to a light drizzle. Just before the exit from the cruise terminal, I stopped by at the information desk to pick up a street plan of the city. After a quick glance I folded it back up and placed in the inside pocket of my coat. As far as I'm aware it's still there because I didn't really need to refer to it, keeping it in reserve in case I really became lost.

My route took me towards Amsterdam’s imposing central station, scene of my first arrival in the city four and half decades beforehand, and also scene of my last departure from the Dutch capital following the 2016 Beer Writers Conference. I didn't set foot in the station, on this occasion, instead I followed the route beneath the rail tracks towards the main tourist area of the city. Having done a bit of prior research I had a particular destination in mind as my first port of call. This would be the Bierkonig beer shop, just a stone’s throw from Dam Square and the Royal Palace.

I wanted to call in there first, and purchase a few bottles, before calling in at a supermarket to pick up some biscuits and crisps. This wasn't due to there being insufficient food on the ship; far from it, instead it was because these “snack” items were intended for work colleagues, and also for son Matthew. I had also promised a few treats for Mrs PBT’s. It obviously made sense to have the heavy beer bottles at the bottom of my rucksack, and then place the snack items on top of them.

I found Bierkonig without any trouble; in fact, I just followed my nose, so no street plan was needed at this stage. The shop was closer to the centre of town than I first thought and was certainly well worth visiting. I won't go into too much detail here, as I intend writing a separate article about the shop, but what I will say is that not only is it an Aladdin’s cave crammed full of all the bottled beers you've ever dreamt about, it is also run by highly knowledgeable staff willing to give their unbiased advice on any particular beer that you may have in mind. So, without giving too much away, a big thank you to owner Jelle Hultink for your help and recommendations, as well as reinforcing my preconceptions about a particular beer that I intended to buy.

After purchasing my beers, I thought that rather than going straight to a pub, it would be best to find a supermarket and buy a few of those aforementioned goodies. I was unsure of Sunday shopping hours in the Netherlands, and didn’t want to return to the boat, empty handed.  I'd noticed a branch of Dutch supermarket Albert Heijn, in the road directly behind the royal palace, so I popped inside for a look around. I managed to obtain the items I was looking for and managed to squeeze them into my rucksack without damaging them. I also added a couple of extra beers from the ‘tJI Brewery, that I picked up in the supermarket.

It was now time for a beer, and to guide me was a copy of the excellent pub - Around Amsterdam in 80 Beers. Researched and written by Tim Skelton, a UK national who has lived in the Netherlands since 1989, Tim's book is a packed full of useful information that not only directs you to 80 of Amsterdam’s best pubs, but also provides general background guidance on matters such as the city’s culinary offerings it's beer styles and how to get around, particularly by public transport. I’d acquired the guide prior to my previous visit, and whilst a new edition has probably been published by now, I worked on the assumption there would not have been too many changes.

As an aside, whilst at lunch, the previous day, before we departed from the boat, Mrs PBT’s took great delight in telling the couple sitting on the adjacent table, that I had brought a book along, describing how to get around the city, by visiting 80 different pubs. I described this as a piece of good planning, but the subject went right over the heads of the pair, one of whom seemed more interested as to where a replacement pair of designer sunglasses could be obtained. Talk about getting one’s priorities wrong, but the couple did provide proof, if it were needed, that the company on cruise ships can sometimes leave much to be desired.

Getting back to the subject in hand, I had drawn up a shortlist of pubs to visit but was hamstrung by the fact that quite a few of them were closed on a Sunday or didn’t open until early evening. I was especially disappointed that the one pub, that I really wanted to visit, was one that was closed on the sabbath. The pub in question was In De Wildeman, and it is one of Amsterdam’s most famous beer bars.

I visited De Wildeman back in 2016 and was really impressed with what I found, as its combination of cosy intimate bars, tiled floors, wide selection of beers plus friendly and knowledgeable staff, made it the ideal pub. One has to respect the fact that everyone deserves at least one day off a week, and I suppose Sunday is as good a day as any but given Amsterdam’s popularity as an all-year-round tourist destination, I’m surprised the pub hasn’t sorted out some sort of rota. On the way back from Dam Square, I came upon De Drie Fleschjes – Three Little Bottles, a famous gin bar owned by Bol’s, but like De Wildeman, unfortunately closed.

Onwards and upwards, as they say, and as part of my forward planning I had earmarked several small closely and intimate street corner pubs, but here again, I discovered that many of them didn’t open until later on. This was no use to me, as I’d promised Eileen to be back on the ship in time for our evening meal. I walked up and down a street on the edge of the red-light district, but despite recognising some of the pubs, I didn’t really want to be walking around with my head stuck in the guide, looking like a tourist

One possible option was Proeflokaal de Ooievaar – the Stork. The pub looked lovely and cosy through the window but was rather crowded. Another candidate, Café Heffer, seemed to have been converted to a burger bar, since my edition of pub guide was published, in 2015. There was no shortage of fake Irish pubs, of course, all waiting to pull in the stag do crowds, plus the occasional cannabis shop. I took a photo of one, for the benefit of a work colleague, but despite coming of age in the early 70’s, that really isn’t my sort of thing.

The one pub I missed, was the one recommended by Bierkonig owner, Jelle Hultink. “Give Elfde Gebod, a try,” he said, “it’s on the way back to the station.” He even wrote the name down for me, on a slip of paper, but the name wasn’t very clear from his handwriting, and for some reason I couldn’t find it in the guide – probably because I didn’t want to look like a tourist, walking around with my head stuck in a guide book! It was only when we arrived home, that its name jumped out at me, off the page.  

This was obviously far too late, and a real shame too, as this charming looking pub looked a good one. It offered a range of mainly Belgian beers, but also Zundert – the only beer brewed by the Netherlands second Trappist brewery, Trappistenbrouwereij De Kievit. The only saving grace is Zundert was one of the bottles I bought at Bierk0onig. I still would like to have visited the pub though, especially following the recommendation I was given, and its write up in Tim Skelton’s guide. Next time, perhaps?

Time was getting on, so I ended up at a bar I’d visited before. De Prael Proeflokaal had been closed when I walked by earlier, but on my way to Haven van Texel – pub I had chosen from the guide, I noticed it had since opened. Seeing as this was the bar where, in 2016, I’d enjoyed a few farewell beers, before saying farewell to Amsterdam, it seemed rude not to stop off at, and do the same. I stepped inside, approached the tiled bar counter to the right of the entrance, where the friendly young barman told me to find a seat anywhere, I liked, and he would be over to take my order.

I did as instructed, finding a seat in what I thought would be a quiet part of the pub, in a raised area, towards the rear of the building, but hadn’t been sitting there long, when a large mixed party arrived, and one of the waitresses came over to take their order. I wanted to shout, “I was here first,” plus my order would be a lot easier than the rather involved and complicated one being placed, but I didn’t, of course. After all, there’s no point in making a fool of oneself in a foreign country, even if I was in the right!

I had two beers whilst there, both De Prael offerings brewed on the premises. Untappd tells me they were Herman IPA 6.5% and Johnny Green Label – a 5.7% American IPA. I much preferred the second beer. To accompany the beer, I ordered some Bitterballen, the archetypal Dutch pub snack. Made from finely ground beef, that is rolled into a ball. Coated with breadcrumbs, deep-fried, and then served with a dollop of yellow mustard, Bitterballen are the perfect accompaniment to a glass or two of beer, but don’t make the mistake of being too eager, and biting straight into them, as soon as they arrive at the table, as their interior temperature can resemble a volcano, as the soft interior can sear the roof of one’s mouth.

It was time for me to go, and on my way back to the cruise terminal, I again missed out on that other Dutch street food delicacy, a portion of chips, smothered in mayonnaise, and served up in a paper cone. I had meant to buy a cone earlier, and had several opportunities to do so, but as the afternoon wore on, my quest to find the perfect pub began to dominate all other designs. My route back to the ship took me away from the shops and the fast-food outlets, and instead took me past the ornate and imposing Basilica of Saint Nicholas, a large Catholic church, close to Central Station.

 The service had just ended, and the congregation was starting to file out, I too took my leave of Amsterdam and headed back to the Queen Victoria, to be reunited with Mrs PBT’s and share a nice buffet dinner.

Testing the waters in Amsterdam at Hannekes Boom

It was an interesting voyage to the Netherlands from Southampton, and I was wondering exactly how we would reach the Dutch capital, seeing as Amsterdam faces east, onto the Ijsselmeer, and we would be approaching from the east. An announcement from the captain, in one of his few daily updates, revealed all, as he explained the ship would be entering the North Sea Canal, via two large sea-locks, which would then take us directly into the city centre, from the west.

The locks are large enough to accommodate ocean-going liners, such as Queen Victoria, and after a short transit time we leisurely traversed this flat and rather tranquil areas of the Netherlands. The sun was shining, and the surrounding countryside was looking both pleasant and serene, and by the time our vessel sailed into the Port of Amsterdam, Mrs PBT’s and I were sitting in the restaurant, enjoying a spot of lunch. We weren’t in a great hurry to leave the ship, as we knew it would take time to berth, moor up and then wait for the land-bridge to be moved into place.

We returned to our cabin, put on our coats and walking shoes, made sure we’d got our passports, plus ship’s boarding passes, and headed down to the disembarkation deck. After swiping out, we traipsed along the covered walkway leading to the exit from the Amsterdam Cruise terminal. Despite having our passports with us, as instructed, there were no immigration officials present, and no one asked to see our papers.

This was all very different from our previous cruise when, after docking at Hamburg, our passports were examined, and stamped. Perhaps the Dutch are rather more laid back than their German counterparts, said I but, as Mrs PBT’s pointed out, details such as our passport numbers and photos were all held on the Victoria’s manifest and would be made available to the Dutch authorities, if required.

It was about a twenty-minute walk into the city, which is marked by the imposing Amsterdam Central Station. Unlike me, Mrs PBT’s has never been one for walking far, and even though her hospitalisation and spell in ICU, was nearly five years ago, still suffers from mobility issues. So, sensing that she was struggling, I suggested we pop into the nearest bar, and grab a drink, and rethink our strategy from there.

Looking back, we should perhaps have taken a cab – there were several waiting outside the cruise terminal, but I’ve never been a taxi person, preferring to walk if possible, or make use of public transport. Eileen, on the other hand, has always championed taxis as a means of getting around. Talking to a number of fellow passengers, later that evening, we learned that several of them had taken cabs into the city centre, as they considered the walk to be too long.

We were roughly hallway towards the station when I suggested the nearby bar as a compromise, and Eileen agreed that it seemed the best option. I’d already noticed signs for a bar called “Delirium”, as we walked towards a bridge over one of the canals. The bar was directly below us and, as the signs pointed out, overlooked the water. Eileen wondered what sort of bar Delirium was, but I’d recognised that the logo and the signage were identical to those I’d seen several years ago in Brussels. I therefore knew exactly what to expect – a bar offering a wide selection of around 500 different beers.

Convinced I was telling the truth, and that it wasn’t one of Amsterdam’s “alternative” hashish cafés, Eileen agreed to give Delirium a try, so we walked down the steps to the water front, and found the bar nestling under the bridge, overlooking the water. The only trouble was that with few lights on inside, it didn’t look very open. Not being someone who takes “no” for an answer, I tried the door. It opened, so I stepped inside, and this is where a member of staff appeared and told us the bar didn’t open until 4pm. He asked whether we had a reservation – a remark I thought rather strange given the substantial size of the place.

We hadn’t, of course, until Eileen reminded me that it was Saturday, and Amsterdam was a favourite destination for stag and hen nights. The staff member seemed quite apologetic, so I asked if he could recommend a bar nearby, and true to form he directed us to a place called Hannekes Boom, just a few minutes’ walk away on the other side of the underpass. We thanked him for his recommendation and headed off beneath the wide concrete bridge carrying the road and rail lines into the centre of Amsterdam.

Hannekes Boom was quite well hidden, but Mrs PBT’s saw the entrance tucked away, in a corner, almost obscured by some bushes. It was a two-storey, rambling building, with an adjoining single floor section overlooking the river. With its canvas roof, and no side walls, this part of the bar was partially open to the elements, and seemed more of a fair-weather, overspill area than anything else, but there were quite a few hardy souls taking advantage of the relatively mild conditions.

Fortunately, we managed to find a table inside, and once seated the friendly young waitress brought us over a beer menu. After a quick flick through I ordered a bottled IPA from local Amsterdam brewery ‘TJI, whilst Eileen went for a Diet Coke. Looking around we were almost certainly the oldest people present, not that it mattered, as I liked the place, and by degrees Mrs PBT’s slowly warmed to it as well. Slowly, but surely, the crowd in the bar began to drift away, although after chatting to one of the waiters, we learned that many would be back, come the evening.

I decided another beer was in order, and this time I went for one of the draft offerings – a La Chouffe Blonde. La Chouffe use a picture of a little dwarf to advertise their beers, and whilst I have enjoyed this beer in bottled form, several times in the UK, this was the first time I had sampled it on tap. The waiter, who brought the beer over, told us that he’d spent time living in Norfolk, although he didn’t say where, but reinforced what he’d said earlier about Hannekes Boom expecting a busy Saturday evening.

We were fortunate to have experienced the bar during a quiet period, and going on what we’d witnessed earlier, it did seem a proper community pub. Given its situation, right on the waterfront, we could understand its popularity, but given its tucked away location we wouldn’t have found it without the guidance from the barman at Delirium.

After paying our tab, we took a slow wander back to the cruise terminal. Mrs PBT’s hadn’t exactly seen the sights of Amsterdam, but she had experienced a little of the friendly and easy-going attitude of its inhabitants.  However, knowing that I wanted to refresh myself further with Amsterdam, she suggested I took a trip into the city the following day, a suggestion I was more than happy to follow up on. Next time read about what I got up in the city centre, how I found quite a few pubs closed, and how I tracked down what is certainly one of the best beer shops in the Netherlands, and probably further afield as well.

Sailing into calmer waters

It’s the end of November and Mrs PBT’s and I have stopped for an overnight stay at a Southampton hotel in readiness to board our cruise ship, Queen Victoria, the following afternoon. Situated just five miles away from the docks, it’s a Doubletree by Hilton, and after an overnight stay, we shall be setting off for the cruise terminal shortly before midday tomorrow.

We enjoyed a good dinner in the hotel’s restaurant, with both of us opting for the pie option. They were steak and ale pies, from local butcher and pie maker, Upton’s of Bassett, and we both agreed that they were excellent. They had a filling of tender and succulent beef, encased in hot water crust pastry which, according to Mrs PBT’s, who knows about these things, is a rigid type of pastry, similar to the cold-water crust used for pork pies. It is designed to hold its shape, without becoming soggy, unlike the normal short-crust variety. She’s obviously been paying attention to the Great British Bake-Off! The following morning, with a touch of serendipity, our taxi drove us past Upton’s shop, on the way down to the cruise terminal– proof, if it was needed, that you can’t get much more local than that!

Beer-wise, I went for a bottle of Leffe Blonde, the best of a bad choice of exclusively bottled beers. It’s an age since I last drank a Leffe Blonde, as given the choice I would normally go for the darker Bruin, but it was pleasant enough, and was certainly a better choice than the bland international lagers that made up the rest of the range. Still, what else should one expect from a large, multi-national hotel chain?

This was my first experience of a Doubletree hotel, in the UK, although I have stayed at one in the United States – the chain’s home country. The brand isn’t that dissimilar to other hotel chains and having experienced quite a few different ones over the years, there’s really not much to choose between any of them. One thing I didn’t like, was the non-discretionary 10% service charge, added to the bill, especially as this did not appear to be passed on to the staff.

There was also a mix-up with the taxi transfer, booked the following morning, to take us to the cruise terminal. The receptionist had to chase the taxi company, who claimed they hadn’t received the email booking, and to make matters worse, the driver charged us for the journey, even though it was supposed to have been included as part of the booking. It wasn’t the cabbies fault, and he gave me a receipt, so I can take the matter up with Holiday Extras, when we get back, but it wasn’t the best of starts.

Fortunately, the embarkation experience was fairly straight forward this time around, although cruise ships have adopted the same security-screening procedures that make travel by air, such a pain in the proverbial. Fortunately, there was no need for us to take off our shoes, although removing one’s belt is a real nuisance. I suppose it makes sense in the general run of things, as the last thing anyone needs is a crazed lunatic, armed to the teeth, roaming around the vessel.

After attending at our muster station, and having our ship’s cards swiped, we were free to unpack, go for a stroll around the ship, and grab something to eat. Rather than heading up to the buffet, we slipped into the Golden Lion – the ship’s pub. Food is available there at lunchtime, although not in the evening, but meals in the Golden Lion are included as part of the cruise package. Drinks are not – no surprises there, but after managing to grab a table for two, we ordered food and drink for two.

The food offering, amongst others, was a rather nice chicken tikka, which also came with naan bread, as well as saffron rice, and drink wise, I of course went for the excellent Cunard Black, a “breakfast stout,” brewed for the cruise line by Dark Revelation. I’ve enjoyed quite a few glasses of this excellent rich, dark beer on previous cruises, and looking around at some of the other tables, I was no means the only person drinking it. Mrs PBT’s went for a dessert after the main course, but I opted out, having enjoyed a cooked breakfast at the hotel, earlier that morning. We were lucky to have arrived when we did, as the Golden Lion started to get very busy – apparently there is some sort of football tournament going on in a small middle eastern country, and the game between the host nation, and an African team, whose name escapes me, was attracting a lot of attention.

Our boat slipped its moorings, shortly before 5pm, and after turning around, we sailed off down the Solent, and out into the open waters of the English Channel. Sitting in the buffet bar, up on Deck 9, enjoying a spot of dinner, we could feel some slight movement from the ship. Eileen noticed it more than I did, even after clambering into bed, although I was dead to the world, and I slept like the proverbial log. The following morning, we were surprised to see how calm the sea was, with the swell of the previous evening having died right down.

There was some confusion as to what time it was when we woke up, as the ships’ clocks were due to be advanced by one hour, to bring us in line with Central European Time. My phone normally performs this change automatically, as does my Smart Watch, but with no phone signal in the middle of the North Sea, this was unlikely to happen. I worked on the assumption that as our phones and watches weren’t showing any change, it was best to get up, although next time I shall bring an analogue watch along, to make certain.

Soon after, there was a knock on the door, and the room service breakfast that Mrs PBT’s had ordered for us, the night before, was delivered to our room. I normally prefer a walk up to the buffet, or perhaps head for the restaurant, but I do know that the room service breakfast option on Cunard is very good, so on this occasion I enjoyed scrambled eggs, streaky bacon – American style, Cumberland sausage, a couple of hash browns and some toast. In short, the full Monty!

I took a walk afterwards, leaving Eileen to get herself ready, getting several circuits of the promenade deck under my belt. With all the food available on board, it’s important not to let things slip on the exercise front. It was quite bracing up on deck, although the south facing starboard side was quite sheltered. It was also quite sunny, and surprisingly warm, especially for the time of year.

A couple of days before we set sail, I’d received an email from Cunard, with the heading “Important Announcement about Your Upcoming Voyage.” My first thoughts were along the lines of “Oh no, what now?” So, thinking there had been a change of plan, or the voyage had even been cancelled, I was more than a little relieved to discover that whilst there had been an alteration in the travel arrangements, but it was a change to the good. Now, instead of spending one night in Amsterdam as originally advised, we would be staying for two. There would be no change regarding the disembarkation arrangements, meaning we would still be leaving the ship on Tuesday morning, as advised. This was good news as we would now have more time to enjoy the Dutch capital.