Contraindications: This report should not be administered to travelers who want to know Amsterdam in depth, not even to those looking for a handful of tips to navigate it. This post has no other aspiration than to guide those who, as the author, only have a couple of hours in the city, straddling two flights, and don't want to languish at the airport.
Side effects: for readers looking for detailed information about Amsterdam, unknown corners or walks not to be missed, Reading these lines may cause anxiety, a feeling of disappointment and, even in the city's angriest enthusiasts, an outburst of annoyance. VaP is not responsible for any of these reactions.
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It was the sixth time I was in Amsterdam. Well, To be honest, It was the sixth time I was at Amsterdam airport. All coming and going on African trips. And Schiphol I felt almost at home, with the familiarity of someone who has already spent a few hours on their terminals, and was even able to appreciate the improvements in its facilities.
On this occasion, however, The wait between flights was going to be long.. Five hours, if everything was going well. I thought it would be a good opportunity to walk around the city.. Counting on boarding and being proactive, I figured I'd have a maximum of three hours to wander around Amsterdam, so I looked on the internet what I could do in such a short time.. I didn't find anything. That's why I write this post: so that those who, like me, are in the same situation, know that there is an alternative to airport Wi-Fi to entertain traffic (pardon me) airport.
There is an alternative to airport Wi-Fi to entertain a transit (pardon me) a few hours at Schiphol
I did find detailed information about the train connection between Schiphol and Amsterdam central station.. Very frequent trips and barely twenty minutes of travel. It was all I needed to know.. On half a sheet, I dumped some information on places to see on a walking tour of the center, fearing that I wouldn't have time for a peaceful walk.
Aterricé and Amsterdam, after two weeks in Kenya, with a piece of my heart still wandering the savannah, with masai dirt on the sole of my sneakers, with the sun of Indian dawning on my nostalgia and the sunsets of fire lighting the embers of the evil of Africa. I didn't know if I was ready, so suddenly, to appreciate the charms of one of the great cities of Europe, that old whore that shelters us.
I landed with the Indian sun rising over my nostalgia and the fiery sunsets illuminating the embers of Africa's evil.
Once in the terminal, and now with my boarding pass in my hand (I wore it Nairobi, but there are numerous self-checking machines that speed up the process), and still undecided, I approached an information desk looking for a little enthusiasm. The kind lady did not transmit even a gram to me, but at least I heard that it gave me time. "It's up to you", he crossed his arms.
I went down the stairs towards the lower floor ready to buy a round trip ticket to the central station.. But the vending machines only accepted cards (This statement is not an absolute truth and may be due to my clumsiness, disorientation or lack of habit). I wasted a few minutes trying to overcome the first setback. After, I went to the ticket office and bought a "one day ticket" for 8,30 EUR (which allows you to make the round trip on the same day). I paid in cash, my reunion with the euro after two weeks of Kenyan and dollar shillings.
I approached an information desk looking for a little enthusiasm, but the kind lady did not transmit even a gram to me
With the ticket in hand and without any lathe that would force it to be validated, I went down to the platform that had been indicated to me. The train was passing in ten minutes, but reviewing the itinerary announced on the screens I got confused and remembered (at what time) something I read on the internet about a clueless traveler who had ended up in Utrecht. When the train arrived, I let it go. I went back up to the platforms to make sure. I got on the next one, twenty minutes later, and at five in the afternoon I was at Amsterdam central station.
The evening light invited you to take photos. The works at the station doors, in. I walked aimlessly enjoying that everlasting first impression of an unknown city. But, where to go? Time was slowly creeping up on me as I continued with my doubts amidst the traffic of cars., bicycles and pedestrians. In a city with 100 kilometers of canals, thought, perhaps the most natural thing was to navigate it. I approached a pier, at the mouth of the river Amstel, by the St. Nicholas Church. A sign announced a "boat trip" in ten minutes.. I asked how long it lasted. One hour and a quarter. I made sure, in case, that the route was circular so as not to end up on the other side of Amsterdam. That was. It was worth only 15 EUR. I took out a ticket.
Where to go? In a city with 100 kilometers of canals, thought, perhaps the most natural thing was to navigate it
The boat was one of those tourist bateaux that frequent the Sena. My body seemed to resist getting into any form of transportation other than a 4×4. When I went down the stairs I tripped and almost knocked over the table with my headphones.. a few steps later, I hit my head on the ceiling. Thirty seconds had been enough for the entire passenger to know that there was a fool on board.. But I, accustomed in recent days to the high roof of the off-roader, I knew why he hadn't bowed his head.
Sented me, I opened the window, I took out the camera and the blog and got ready to enjoy a sunset in Amsterdam navigating the city. The audio guide took care of the rest, listing the milestones to the left and right as we progressed. But where he pointed to the oldest lock in the city, I was looking for a leopard; where the flea market seemed to be, I scrutinized trying to guess the silhouette of an eland; through the waters of the Herengracht I thought I saw crocodiles and, when the boat stirred the waters in hundreds of waves bathed in the evening light, I always expected the eyes and ears of a hippopotamus to appear.
Towards where the flea market seemed to be, I scrutinized trying to guess the silhouette of an eland and in the waters of the Herengracht I thought I saw crocodiles…
I was not prepared to face Amsterdam. I would have to come back another time and with more time. And I was sure I would. That's what my two hours in the capital of Holland would be good for. The camera ended up passing sentence. The battery ran out. Not even the Brewers Channel rescued me from Africa. Right away, made me long for a Tusker.
PDTA.- At seven in the afternoon, no news, I got on the train at the central station that took me back to the airport.. Before, I went to information to ask the platform. It was not necessary. The number of foreigners with the same doubt in their mouths must be so enormous that they had hung a very large poster so that we would not be able to perpetrate the question.. «Train to Schiphol via 14A» (included the minutes at which he left each hour). I felt embarrassed. At 19:17 I was at the airport. I still had an hour left to board.
