So after lunch, we went right to the Rijksmuseum, where my clothes actually fit in with the rest of the crowd. I have to believe that we were the only ones going from the Rijks Restaurant to the museum after lunch. Everyone else at the restaurant struck me as locals, although there might have been a few trendy foreigners there.
Most of my knowledge base about the Dutch Masters is remembering the late 1960s/early 1970s where I believe they sponsored Yankees or Mets games (trust me when I say it was a different time) and I think they were a cigar of choice for my Uncle Mike.
(It’s actually a good test of whether or not my brother Rick reads the blog. Either he will affirm me or correct me – the smart money is on “correct me.” Younger brother Rod is a faithful reader of the blog. I appreciate all faithful readers, especially if they are related to me by blood, marriage., or friendship.)
My friend, the great political analyst Charlie Cook, emailed that he loves the Rijksmuseum and could spend hours there looking at the Dutch Masters paintings. I, on the other hand, only have so much bandwidth for art in a day. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the museum, but couldn’t spend hours plural there.
Personally, rating the three museums we went to, I’d go “Anne Frank House/Museum” first, Van Gogh second, and this one third. It’s not a slight on the Dutch Masters or this massive museum, just a matter of personal taste. Anyhow, more on the Anne Frank House/Museum in another post.
We started with Rembrandt’s classic, and massive, “The Nightwatchman.” Ready to take a bunch of pictures, I took two before my camera battery unexpectedly died. I didn’t think I had used this battery a lot, so I was unprepared and had left the fully charged spare at the Canalboat. Oh well.
(Editor: Your “camera battery unexpectedly died”? Of course it was unexpected! If you had expected it, you would either brought the second battery or switched it out already! Blogger, head hanging down: Yes sir.)
We then wandered the top floor, blown away by the paintings. When I think of the Dutch Masters, I tend to focus on Rembrandt and Vermeer (after I think of the crappy cigars of the ‘60s-70s of course), but there were impressive paintings by artists I’ve never heard of before, and probably will never hear of again.
The Gallery of Fabulous Superlatives (not the real name – it’s actually the the Gallery of Honor) alone was worth the entrance fee.
Then, we decided that, between 90 minutes of Van Gogh, over an hour of Dutch Masters, and nine miles of walking from the Canalboat to the museums, back again, and back again, it was time to wrap up our museum-ing for the day, so we headed down to the second floor to find the largest painting in the building, “Waterloo” which, as the title implies, is a grand painting depicting different events at the Battle of Waterloo in an art mash-up.
(Editor: This could be the first time this famous painting has been called “an art mash-up.” Blogger: I know, pretty cool, no? Editor: No.)
After that, we made our way out of the building, and headed back to the Canalboat so I could do my last conference call of the week in Europe.
After enjoying some Rose wine out on the Canalboat patio, we met our back home neighborhood friend Kurt Dupuis and his ladyfriend Shannon Kiewitt for drinks. That was a fabulous time AND the subject of a different blog post.
After that, we didn’t really have a plan for dinner, so we figured we would wander the streets till we found a restaurant. We grabbed an outside table at a corner restaurant. With the temperature dropping, we put on our light raincoats, the only long sleeve garments we packed.
We ate at Der Struisvogel, which could mean “ostrich” in Dutch, as you can see from the sign. The restaurant is in the basement, but our table overlooked the canal and a bridge.
When the weather is good, or even just good enough, we always enjoy eating outside, and Amsterdam is no different. It really enhances the food, the wine, and the experience. I’m not one for remembering what I even had for dinner (that was last Friday night, and now it’s Wednesday morning on a plane to Phoenix as I write this).
Just another lovely evening.
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