The Amsterdam curse

I've been thinking about my previous visits to Amsterdam all afternoon and come to the conclusion that I am destined never to have the perfect experience with the city. I do realise that a romantic destination can be elevated to the heights of great expectation, especially following my first alcohol fuelled exploits on a Royal Naval ship filled with three hundred like minded souls, but, even with other locations I have revisited I have not experienced the same levels of disappointment.

I have accepted that I am no longer able to carouse and enjoy the decadent pleasures of a location to the  extent that I could even ten years ago, but my deflation extends far beyond that. In as much the same way that I struggled to engender a respect for the cultural diversity of Prague in my comrades a few years ago, I believe that the reason and company I hold close on any trip to Amsterdam has prevented me from seeing the real side of a city that I know has so much to offer.

My first visit, on HMS Brave in 1989 will not be described nor further referred to in this post.

When in 2000 I was offered the opportunity to attend IBC, the International Broadcast Conferenece, in Amsterdam, fully paid for by employer at the time, Merlin Communications, I leapt at the chance. It seemed that they considered me sufficiently important to represent them, albeit for a short period of time at their stand in the satellite technology hall. Unfortunately Merlin, as they did in most area of operation, completely miscalculated the requirements and booked my hotel for one day less than I needed. I ended up sleeping at Schipol airport and had y coat, which I was using as a pillow, half-inched from beneath my head.

I returned a few years later, in 2004 I think, when I was working, at least on paper, for a broadcast related company. Although the organisation of the trip was sound, I soon discovered that the company was only dabbling in the satellite industry and I was let go two days after my Grandmothers funeral. Happy days!

In 2006 I was working for a body shop, they consider themselves a consultancy company but placing any old idiot (including me) into any contract possible is hardly that, and argued a trip to IBC under the pretext of 'Business Development'. I honestly believed that this was within my capabilities and set off with a happy heart. Unfortunately this was the first time I had attended on my own and the result was a depressing lonely four days which returned absolutely no leads at all. I subsequently left this outfit.

In 2009 I went to Amsterdam twice. The first time was at the end of a charity banger rally to Prague (as mentioned earlier) in a fantastic Jaguar XJ6. On the whole the trip was great but when we rocked in to Amsterdam, in April at 2230 hundred hours PM, the place was bloody shut. This was a shock to me as I had only experienced either the fiscally fuelled availability of IBC or the testosterone fuelled visits to the red light district. Another failure. The subsequent business trip to IBC with my rallying colleagues was spoiled by the fact that the hotel was thirty-five miles outside of Amsterdam and as such required a taxi journey costing a minimum of fifty euros. On top of this we achieved 'kin nothing.

Last year, 2011, I took Sam to Amsters' to allow him to meet up with a couple of mates from his EQ2 adventures. Although this was successful, once more the selection of accommodation was unwise and spoiled my visit.

Now, IBC 2012, the hotel has let me down again but, and this is a fantastic but, I have discovered an area of the city where I was happy and felt relaxed. Marie Heinekplein is the most laid back, fantastic area I've ever visited in Amsterdam. Located directly behind the Heineken Brewery it houses a number of inexpensive restaurants, bars and shops that I will revisit.

I think I have found a way to exorcise my demons. I the past I have argued against taking Emma to Amsterdam solely, and lamely due to a recurring dream I experienced over two decades ago. We were in a bright street near a small shop when I was grabbed, robbed and unceremoniously dragged into a secluded, fenced off building site and shot in the back of the head. I think it is time to ignore this, take my wife to Amsterdam and enjoy the culture of a fantastic city.