Three Hours in Amsterdam

View this post at: http://www.thesoapbox.fm/2010/03/22/three-hours-in-amsterdam/

The free dictionary defines a layover as “A short stop or break in a journey, usually imposed by scheduling requirements”, but does not include the truism that it has become the curse of the modern traveler, as it can easily double the time of one’s journey.

A necessary evil to save money on flights, it is quite conceivable nowadays to fly half way around the world in the opposite direction to one’s destination before heading back the right way.

However, if one is lucky, layovers might not involve booking into an extortionately expensive airport hotel for the night or camping underneath a smelly metal chair outside your gate but rather a quick browse through duty free, followed by free champers in a plush airport lounge. Leaving Cape Town for New York, this is what my husband and I had in mind for our three-hour layover in Schiphol Airport. As we descended into the Netherlands we started chatting to the Dutch lady besides us, who recommend we get out of the airport and see the city, assuring us that we had more than enough time to jump on a train to downtown Amsterdam and explore.

This sounded a little risky to us, as we certainly could not afford to miss our connection, so we smiled and nodded politely — both wishing we really could see the city. She was very persuasive. Refusing to let us remain content with our browse/drink plan, she ushered us out through customs (having no bags makes this so easy), helped us to buy a train ticket (we had to try four machines and eventually used her credit card at her generous insistence) and pointed us in the direction of the right platform (it was not the correct platform, and we took twenty minutes to ascertain which one we should be on – our eyes big with fear at jumping onto a train and heading into Belgium).



The train ride was clean, efficient and ever so boring, the scenery industrial and the stations generic. Only until we pulled in to Amsterdam proper, however. Old buildings loomed imposingly over cobbled streets and bicycles were everywhere, some parked in stacks and some moving in frantic motion. We narrowly dodged them, as well as the cars, trams and buses as we walked around the main square and up the narrow streets. These, even at eight in the morning, were festively decorated with rainbow-colored flags, sidewalk café and coffee houses from whence people and music from all around the world poured out.

We finally settled on a café and attempted to order breakfast and coffees while we sat there quietly and tried to take in all that was happening around us. Funnily shaped vehicles appeared between bike riders of all ages — some towing carts as wide as a car, some transporting their children or pets while wearing high heels, floral dresses and absolutely no helmets. Getting food from our waitress and then eventually finding her to pay was painful, but we managed and strolled back to the station, hoping that the return trip would not take as long as the outbound one. We frantically checked the time as we waited and waited for the train to move. Finally it did, and we were in due course deposited back at Schiphol.

Luckily for us it is a well signposted airport, so we could literally run helter-skelter to our gate, hoping all the time that boarding was still open; ears pricked for announcements of our names. We joined the queue in the nick of time, sweaty and panting – attracting loads of weird looks from our fellow passengers.

Despite the excruciatingly close shave, we were thrilled that we had seen a little bit of this fascinating city and even managed to eat dinner in Cape Town, breakfast in Amsterdam and afternoon tea in New York with no airport meals included. All thanks to our convincing and charitable Dutch friend at whose insistence we explored her city!