Amsterdam

I love a city that can fit neatly into a weekend. They say Amsterdam is one of the most livable cities on earth but for me, the thrill of dodging all those beautiful people with their bikes piled with perfect blond children wears thin after a couple of days. As does cheese. And more cheese. Still, for a couple of nights, neatly packaged and wrapped up like a fabulous Dutch bouquet, Amsterdam is a delight.

Let’s start with flowers because the city pretty much did and even today about 80% of the world’s flower trade is connected in some way to Holland. The most beautiful florist in the world is in Amsterdam and that’s a fact. Visit Menno Kroon and you’ll know I am right.

The other thing Amsterdam is brilliant at is really pretty clothes for girls with busts. They say (oh, who is that they?) that the Dutch are among the world’s most well endowed and certainly, when a friend of mine worked for a classy-not-trashy underwear company, they shipped plenty of FF cups to the Netherlands. So, should you be stacked and in search of something pretty, this is your town. Even if you are not blessed in the manner of Christina Hendricks, aka Joan Hollyway of Mad Men, (who come to think of it, does look a bit Dutch) or are less curvy that fashion’s current muse, Dutch girl, Lara Stone, you can still find really gorgeous things to wear, and at a good price from Sissy Boy which despite the name, caters in lovely stuff for girls too.

Did I mention cheese? And more cheese? Perhaps my half-Dutch nephews will chase me out of town on their bikes at this point, but can we put on record NO ONE goes to Holland for the food. (I’ve been back and forth over those dykes and polders since I was 14 years old and I’m sticking to that opinion). You order a starter at 8pm, it turns up at 9pm and if, more fool you, you skipped the first course to go straight to the main, then don’t expect it until about 11:15pm. So you need to nip out for a snack? There are some who love croquetas - those veal or cheese stuffed breaded things. One of them is my mother who even takes them home to put in the freezer. Emphatically not another is my husband whose description of their taste and texture in your mouth is such that you will never eat one again. And that would be a pity, given they are this town’s snack-on-the-go.

Please don’t take them with you into the cinema though, which you must visit considering Amsterdam has one of the world’s finest, the Pathe Tuschinski, built in 1921 and still with its sumptuous Art Deco interior intact. In the unlikely event all the movies showing on Saturday night are in Dutch, no one seems to mind if you don’t even buy a ticket and just wander about inside anyway.

In a country where the language has a special word for “the cold that comes of the water” you may well want to spend much of your visit inside. Might I suggest you include some of the old merchants’ houses, which are now museums? I love the Van Loon so much I have written about it for RunawayNow before, so here we go again - don’t miss the secret doors.

Amsterdam’s most famous resident was the one who never got to grow up. Anne Frank’s house receives so many visitors, they’ve had to buy up the houses next door. I’ve been several times and poor Anne’s words ring in your head as those not of someone who ever suspected she would become globally famous for the very worst of reasons, but instead as any teenage girl, just desperate to get outside and feel the sun on her face and maybe even talk to a boy.

But through the emotion (and this museum is extremely well done) you might be surprised that the house is well, bigger than you might have thought. I am not as brave as the humourist David Sedaris, so I’ll let him tell you about his apartment envy. Click here.

More culture? Amsterdam is famous for its Van Gogh museum (go early, although when you get there, you’ll believe every “it’s Wednesday this must be Amsterdam” tour group has mistakenly arrived today, Sunday, just ahead of you).

But don’t go to the Rijksmuseum unless you are reading this after 2013. Yeah, it’s famous and Rembrandt’s magestic, “The Night Watch” is there, but currently the Rijks is a rip off. For 12.50 Euros, you’ll get what is described as an hour long display of the hot hits, housed in one small annex while the rest of this huge museum is being overhauled, but within 20 minutes I found myself at the gift shop (nice tulip vases) and within 30 minutes, hang on - here’s the exit. Yes the tulip drawings are delightful, but while the builders are in, this joint should be cheaper.

Thankfully, the new Hermitage, the first outside of St Petersburg, is excellent, firstly because the building - formerly an old people’s home - has been beautifully restored. As for the works on display, the exhibitions will change, so suffice to say you get a massive dose of art bang for your buck, plus some of the most stunning works were completely new to me and even my mother, who used to lecture on the history of art AND travel regularly to St Petersburg. We “found” a Russian artist neither of us had ever heard of. It felt a little like finding a lost masterpiece down the back of the wardrobe.

Where to stay in Amsterdam? Here you may have a problem. I’d always rather fancied the little hotel (cheery candy striped awnings) near my sister’s family home, until my worldly nephew pointed out that the somewhat steep tariffs of over 200 euro per room were actually cheap because each room is for 7 or 9 people. He then had to spell it that it’s a dope house. He can be so very Dutch at times.

I’ve been to Amsterdam on some pretty swanky press trips and found the hotels - which I’m not naming - really horrible. Firstly, the Dutch don’t really do service - when everyone is equal and no one ever tips, why would they? Which is all fine until you’ve come in on the last flight and the stairs in Dutch canal side houses are really steep and your bag is damn heavy. But there’s worse to come. “Did you sleep at all?” an American said to me when we met looking miserable at the breakfast bar. What to say? I’m British and we have a reputation for whinging, but the truth had been that my five star bed was so damp that I had had to pile the towels from the bathroom over the sheets, which, this morning had rather cancelled out my will to wash my hair. “I slept in my coat on the floor”, he interjected. “Were you with the other Brits? They said their beds were so cold, they all got dressed again and stayed out all night.” Which is of course easy to do in Amsterdam. I’m told Trouw, in a vast derelict newspaper building on the outskirts of town is worth the journey, or you can snuggle up at minibar, where you are served your very own minibar.

Next morning, there’s always excellent coffee, crusty bread, butter and cheese and, should you want to go for it, good ham and fresh, tasty tomatoes. Then it is back out on the street and a bike whizzes almost over your feet, peddled by an absolutely beautiful girl in platform shoes, cellphone to ear, ciggie in mouth, dry cleaning over the handlebars, shopping to the rear and maybe a couple of kids aboard too.

What to buy? A bag from Rika (she’s Swedish, but an Amsterdam fashion queen) something vintage (Lady Day has long been, and remains, a cool source). Wander the Negen Straatjes, the nine streets, of lovely little shopping finds, have another coffee or a beer, wander some more. If it’s legal where you are flying back to, head for the flower market in the centre of town (it’s hugely touristy, but there’s locals there too) and stock up on bulbs so when it’s spring again, there’ll be tulips from Amsterdam. Then catch the train to the airport. 48 hours. Done.