In the weeks preceding our trip to Amsterdam, I did my best to learn a couple of essential phrases in Dutch. My travel buddy and dear friend Harriet spent the time perfecting her comedy Dutch accent.
It was a magical trip. I threw up into my own handbag and we met a man whose primary dance move was slapping himself in the face, a maneuver mysteriously called “denzelling.” We snacked around the Albert Cuyp Street Market, viewed the famous poppenhausen of Rijksmuseum, smoked mojito cigarettes and spent a pleasant afternoon in the mental cat museum.
I was struggling with veganism during our trip, primarily because chips and mayonnaise is a national dish and there’s cheese literally everywhere. Snacking around the market was a personal highlight, however. It’s the largest street market in the Netherlands, and sells everything from dried fruit to flavoured cheese, fabric to fresh stroopwafels. At the Albert Cuyp market we stocked up on jewel-coloured dried fruit and bottles of freshly squeezed juice.
Most the food stalls had free samples, so we cruised up and down the market, stuffing our faces with scraps of bread dipped in fresh harissa, little morsels of pesto, wasabi and cumin flavoured cheeses, crackers and nuts, between cups of coffee and hilarious photos of us eating stuff.
Amsterdam is an amazing city, and it’s compact enough to walk everywhere. I didn’t manage to hunt out a single veggie or vegan specific eatery (apart from Moaz, which doesn’t count as there’s two in London), but we ate a lot of pancakes and went to the Sex Museum and, y’know, did general Amsterdamish things.
Oh, the fresh stroopwafel man. Warm, gooey caramel oozing from warm waffly things. Totally unvegan, but I have absolutely no regrets.