
While the rest of the world has suffered agonising withdrawal symptoms over the past couple of days, in the absence of any football, the free time came as a boon to this reporter. Time to recharge batteries and so off I went to Amsterdam, a two-hour train journey from Dortmund 8212; and seamless, thanks to the Schengen visa.
A late start meant I had just seven hours in Amsterdam 8212; not enough to see all of it but you can8217;t have it all. The best place to start, I was advised, was a canal tour; hop off and on whenever you like, see what you want, one pass valid for 24 hours.
I duly did so, a very wise decision. The ride takes you around the three main canals that go round central Amsterdam, dug in the 16th century when Amsterdam grew four times in size. That was when the Dutch empire was approaching its zenith; though overshadowed by the British, French, Spanish and Portuguese, the Dutch were no mean colonisers themselves. Their rule, in some form or the other, ranged from South America including Suriname, where most of their black footballers come from; Indonesia; India Chinsurah in Bengal, parts of Kerala; South Africa; Sri Lanka. New York City was formerly known as New Amsterdam and, strange though it may sound, Harlem8217;s roots are more Dutch than African.
Evidence of that power is found all along the canals in the magnificent gabled houses, palaces, churches and office buildings built in those days, all in apparently good condition. The real signs of power, however, lie in the warehouses which at one time would stock goods as diverse as whale oil from Greenland and Norway and spices from the East Indies. The Dutch also had an East India Company and it was here, in the wooden buildings along the canals, that their hard work came to fruit.
The canals themselves are not exceptionally clean but they provide a wonderful space for public enjoyment. On this blazing hot day the canals were full of boats of various shapes, sizes and persuasions; some were permanent houseboats, others day-cruise boats, others still pedal not paddle! 8212; boats. Most had people sunning themselves in various stages of undress. One boat stood out; the brass trimming were polished, it was moving at a very sedate pace; there were two couples in it, elegantly dressed, with a picnic basket open, white linen tablecloth, a bottle of wine in the ice-bucketm 8212; you could almost sniff the pate and hard-crust rolls. No better way to enjoy a Sunday afternoon.
I was brought back to earth, though, on the train back to Dortmund: Before it left Amsterdam, the PA system issued a warning to be wary of pickpockets. 8220;They are on the train,8221; it said ominously. Before I had time to recover, something more unpleasant: A huge, visibly tense, Dutch man flopped down in a seat after putting his huge bag on the overhead rack. It was, however, among the seats booked by a group of Japanese boys and they told him, with typical politeness. 8220;Too late!8221;, he expostulated. 8220;I wait for 10 minutes, this seat stay empty. Now too late. You sit behind.8221; To their credit the boys 8212; joined by others in the carriage 8212; protested several times; eventually the man got up, muttering audibly his very racist views. It was not a good way to end the evening but I8217;d like to believe he was in a minority of one.