For Many, Amsterdam is about Sex and Drugs and… not Hector. Bier and Curry are held in higher regard.
The Sixties
I had never felt Cold as Extreme as my first Trip to Amsterdam. The Canals were frozen, people were skating everywhere. I had the school coat, Burberry as I recall, and Short Trousers. Father did not believe in Young Boys in Long Trousers. There were Tears. I was bought an Anorak, I was the first person at school to have one. The top of the Body was Warm, the Legs remained Frozen. The Tears stopped.
The Seventies – She’s in the Attic!
1976 was the year of the first Inter Rail. Archie and Hector went everywhere possible. This included a day in Amsterdam. The Van Gogh Museum was visited, not something I would consider these days, and the Anne Frank House. We were Tourists.
The Eighties
I met a Chap called Eric in Israel who suggested I could have a prolonged stay in Amsterdam. He showed me an Attic Room in his Squat that I could call Home. I imagined it in Winter and headed back to München.
The Noughties
Marg and Hector stayed in the worst hotel we have ever found ourselves in. Above an Irish Bar which stayed open very late. Paper thin walls. Loose floorboards, and Mein Host did not honour the price that the Booking.com Printout stated. I was offered a Credit Note. I promised never to return. We found Arends Nest and In de Wildeman. There was still smoking and phones did not have T’Internet.
The Company tend to pass through Amsterdam, either en route to Köln or even at New Year returning from München. We all stayed at the Ibis at Schipol during Hector’s Hollandisch Hootenanny in 2011. This is the best value accommodation we have ever found. A Courtesy Bus takes one to the Hotels in the Airport Hinterland, ideal.