So where were we? Oh that’s right, my stay at the Generator Hotel in Amsterdam. Did I mention it was a pod hotel? For those yet to experience what a pod hotel is, imagine any science fiction movie that has some degree of space travel in it. Visualise the little pods that astronauts sleep in - about 1.2m wide, 1m high and 2m long, with individual controls for lighting and air conditioning. There’s a 7mm mattress, a doona and a pillow to sleep on, and a lockable door, so you are effectively sealed in a lit and ventilated “mega coffin” for your overnight stay.
My first pod experience was in Sydney about 10 years ago when this new novelty was introduced. You could hear every movement of the people around you, including snoring, tooting and talking. This experience was a little better, as most of the individual noise was muted, however anyone talking outside of the pods, and the security door that slammed loudly each time someone buzzed in were definitely going to interrupt sleep!
After settling all my gear into my pod, I went out to explore the area - the hotel backs onto a gorgeous park and I walked the nearby streets to find somewhere to eat that didn’t involve burgers and fries. I settled on a little Italian place, run by a couple of Argentinians! The lasagna was next level, washed down by a refreshing Heineken (when in Holland!)
The walk back through the park was entertaining, with a drum circle doing their thing, alongside an African dance troop. As expected, the sleep wasn’t ideal, but at least it was a week night, and the nightclub that operates in the venue on a Friday and Saturday night wasn’t in operation. The bathrooms at this place were split by gender (although the sleeping areas aren’t - the pods were mixed gender). I woke up at 6am, and with no hope of getting back to sleep, I decided to pack up, have a shower and make my way slowly into the centre of the city to find somewhere to take my luggage while I did my bike tour.
Thankfully there was a luggage storage place at the train station, so after stowing my very heavy pack there, I started the walk to the bike rental store, while also searching for somewhere to have breakfast.
Amsterbikes is only a short walk down from the train station, and in between were a number of cafes, but I wasn’t feeling a hot breakfast, so I opted for a supermarket bacon and egg sandwich and an orange juice.
Once at Amsterbikes, I was measured up for my bike, given some brief instructions and then introduced to my tour guide, Peter, a retired gentleman who took up guiding to give him “something to do”. There was also a mum and her teenage daughter from Seattle in the group, a dad and his four daughters, and another American couple with their teenage son.
Now I was more than a little nervous to be doing this ride. Amsterdam is a biking city. There are thousands of them on the road at any point in time, and the thought of riding in a bunch with people I don’t know, and who I have no trust in was a little daunting. I was in the middle of the bunch, with just the dad and his daughters behind me, and the mum and daughter in front. Mum wasn’t particularly confident riding, so I was going to be keeping a safe distance.
But of course, as always, when I get on a bike, after about 2 seconds, I felt totally at home and was in my element riding the streets of the most bike-friendly city I have every ridden in. Our bikes identified us as tourists, so the residents of the city were patient with us and tolerated us sharing their bike lanes.
For three hours, we rode together, exploring the city, hearing stories about the building of the city, the construction of the many canals and waterways and the history - both the good and the bad. Sober moments spent at the Anne Frank house and holocaust memorial, inscribed with the name of every person lost in the purge. Stories about the different suburbs and their histories, from warehouse districts converted to residences, Jewish communities rebuilt after arson attacks, affluent areas going through rebuilds and of course the famous red-light district.
Made friends with the mum and daughter from Seattle, and shared a table at a cafe at the halfway point, enjoying a hot chocolate and chatting about our travels. I realised how lucky I am to travel, when the mum noted how much I had travelled in the last two years! She couldn’t believe my Yosemite trip, and how much of the road I’d travelled in the US on that visit. She was a much more regular traveller than me though, as she flew a lot for work, but I had her beat on two wheels - she was a very tentative rider!
We only rode 15kms in total, but wow, did we learn a lot in that time. I even saw the Bondi Magnet Fishing guy throwing his magnet off a bridge to see what he could bring in from the canals. As we rode back to the bike store I spied three bikes that made me think they had fun off-roading as they were caked in mud and leaned up against the railings. It wasn’t til I was walking past them again to head to the train station that I realised they had been pulled out of the canals and that’s why they were covered in mud!
After grabbing a bite to eat, and snacks for the train, I picked up my backpack, checked in to the Eurostar counter, passed Dutch immigration, passed UK immigration and settled into my train seat for the five hour trip back to London. The holiday is almost over, and while I can’t wait to get home, I’m also mourning the end of the adventures I was having.
The train ride was uneventful - lots of beautiful countryside, pockets of buildings as we passed through towns, many old churches spotted and finally back at St Pancras Station. Short walk to pick up my stored luggage, back to the bus stop and it’s not long before I’m getting ready to check into my final accommodation for the trip. But more on that in the next (and final) blog for the trip.
