Babes in Amsterdam
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I used to be a babe. I used to be babe in Amsterdam, strolling along the canals, alternating between museums, coffee shops and design shops. But not anymore. On this trip, the babes dictating the day's (and night's) events were eight and 11 months of age.
And the red light? It was on the street, and we didn't dare run it, lest we get hit by a bike or 10.
This trip was inspired by a talk a baby daddy had to give at a conference. He invited one my best friends (and his wife and baby mama) to come along. And they invited me to keep his babes company.
We stayed at the Movenpick City Centre, which isn't exactly in the city centre. It's about 20 minutes along the river from Central Station, along a walk that far too often has no sea wall. Never would I have noticed this until I was pushing my baby in high winds - Bugaboo with one hand, rolling suitcase in the other.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked my baby. "They allow this? And the bikes are on the inside - and safer than the pedestrians?" I cast a scornful look at the bikes and landed on a winded guy. No one can look cool going uphill on a bike. It's simply not possible.
We had dinner on the beautiful terrace of the hotel, then turned in for the night. As the babes had adjoining rooms, this meant that my baby slept in one room while we drank wine (and hung out with the jet-lagged baby) in the other.
The next day, we had amazing sandwiches at the restaurant connected to the Muziekgebouw (Concert Hall), next to the hotel. We ate on the patio, which formed a cement echo chamber. It amplified my child's excited yells for food - his, mine, the woman's at the next table, the food going by on a tray - much to the dismay of the chic crowd. It was so good that we ate there again the next day - inside.
By the time we actually made it to the city centre each day, it was 4pm. We had changed diapers, honoured naps, stopped for snacks and bottles. It left a little time for shopping, a rice table, and an anniversary gift purchase from one of the Bulldog Cafes.
But for the moment that we sat in peace along the canal, boys fast asleep in their Bugaboos, we were happy to relinquish our old role as babes to those who were far more deserving.
This trip was inspired by a talk a baby daddy had to give at a conference. He invited one my best friends (and his wife and baby mama) to come along. And they invited me to keep his babes company.
We stayed at the Movenpick City Centre, which isn't exactly in the city centre. It's about 20 minutes along the river from Central Station, along a walk that far too often has no sea wall. Never would I have noticed this until I was pushing my baby in high winds - Bugaboo with one hand, rolling suitcase in the other.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked my baby. "They allow this? And the bikes are on the inside - and safer than the pedestrians?" I cast a scornful look at the bikes and landed on a winded guy. No one can look cool going uphill on a bike. It's simply not possible.
We had dinner on the beautiful terrace of the hotel, then turned in for the night. As the babes had adjoining rooms, this meant that my baby slept in one room while we drank wine (and hung out with the jet-lagged baby) in the other.
The next day, we had amazing sandwiches at the restaurant connected to the Muziekgebouw (Concert Hall), next to the hotel. We ate on the patio, which formed a cement echo chamber. It amplified my child's excited yells for food - his, mine, the woman's at the next table, the food going by on a tray - much to the dismay of the chic crowd. It was so good that we ate there again the next day - inside.
By the time we actually made it to the city centre each day, it was 4pm. We had changed diapers, honoured naps, stopped for snacks and bottles. It left a little time for shopping, a rice table, and an anniversary gift purchase from one of the Bulldog Cafes.
But for the moment that we sat in peace along the canal, boys fast asleep in their Bugaboos, we were happy to relinquish our old role as babes to those who were far more deserving.
Here Is The Writer : Sarah Western Balzer
Sarah Western Balzer is the managing director of HITC Life and is always on the lookout for reader-writers, so if you'd like to be one, make yourself known (sarah.western@hereisthecity.com). Sarah moved to London six years ago from New York but is originally from Florida, and still suntans like it's 1989. She is so grateful to the banker who introduced her to Here Is The City that she married him, and they live in Wapping with their son.
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