Getting the boot

Have you ever realized you had a completely blank schedule on a beautiful, sunny Saturday and thought to yourself: "Omigod! It's absolutely perfect! Today is the day! We can finally get the boot!" 

Probably not. But that's because you didn't know that boot is the Dutch word for boat!

In this city of canals, one of the most popular weekend pastimes is boating. With large cushions and blankets lining the deck, wine glasses in hand, in their preppy-chic Ralph Lauren/Tommy Hilfiger-type sailing getups (on cloudy days) or shirtless (on sunny days), a fluffy dog or two peeking out from the prow, the Dutch are experts in taking cozy chic to the canals. And yes, many of them actually own their own boats. I've seen so many happy Dutchies on boats since spring that I've developed an entirely new form of envy... boat envy. 

I've actually had a standing reservation at Mokumboot, a boat rental company two blocks from my house, since April. Weather had been so uncooperative, especially through our crappy rainy summer, that I feared I would never get to use it. Whenever I had the odd sunny day in my sights, boats would get fully booked up a week in advance.

But September gave us a stunning gift: a rare, two-week stretch of blissful sunshine and good vibes. So on one glorious Sunday morning, the planets aligned. And we could finally, finally get the damn boot.

Marlon and I showed up at the Mokumboot dock at 11 in the morning to pick up our boat. I actually got us out of the driveway, so to speak before handing the wheel to my college friend Jec. She moved here with her boyfriend KD for work, and I'm lucky to have a Pinay friend I already know pretty well!

Steering is not as easy as the Dutchies make it look. You need to keep the steering wheel going pretty much continuously, constantly going back and forth between left and right, to keep the boat going in a straight line. Also, being an electric boat as opposed to a gas-fueled boat, our top speed was pretty pathetic. But it was all good. We were all just ridiculously excited to finally be on a boat!



Jec's boyfriend KD took over as captain of the ship for the first half of our four-hour boat ride. Marlon got started chilling the wine...



... while I unpacked our picnic basket, filled with snacks for grazing: chips, cheese, olives, bread and a highly addictive truffle tapenade from the Albert Cuypmarkt.

I also served up a vegetarian lunch of fusilli with roasted broccoli and walnuts.

We set off from the Olympic quarter, which is our neighborhood, in the direction of Amsterdam's famous canal belt. Along the way, autumn waved its cheery greeting from the apartments of the Old South.

Passing the Rijksmuseum, or the national museum, was a signpost telling us to expect very busy waters up ahead. 

 

As soon as we hit the busy Leidseplein area, huge tourist boats started coming at us from every direction. Boat police patrol these busier waterways in the center of town.

It's not unlike being a student driver and finding yourself on the South Super Highway-Sucat interchange for the first time. Except everything moves much more slowly, you have no idea how people will signal for turns, and collisions with large vessels will be documented by the sound of fifty cameras clicking. Chalk that last bit up to experience.

Having run the stressful gauntlet that was Leidseplein, our entry into the famous Grachtengordel, or canal belt, was rewarded with some postcard views... like this one along Prinsengracht. The Anne Frank House lies just behind Westerkerk, on the right.

Sailing along all four major canals that encircle Amsterdam's old center—Singel, Herengracht, Keizersgracht, and Prinsengracht—is something that pretty much all tourist boats do on the standard canal tour. But many of them won't bother into the smaller canals intersecting these major waterways—which, shaded with trees and lined with cafes, have a quiet charm that made all of us breathe more deeply and contentedly.

Heading even further away from tourist territory, we took our little boat into the tiny canals of the Jordaan. Formerly home to Amsterdam's working-class immigrants, this neighborhood is now one of the hippest (and most expensive) places to live in the city. Its narrow canals are off-limits to the big tourist boats.

And as we came up to this alarmingly low bridge, we all realized why.

Marlon turned off the engine. Drifting ever so slowly toward the bridge gave the four of us time to ponder a short list of possible fates, which consisted of a) getting stuck, and b) sailing clean through.

"We're going to get stuck!" cried Jec. "No, I think we'll make it," I objected, discreetly grabbing my phone and tapping out the first few digits of the Mokumboot helpline... just in case I was wrong.

Drawn to our obvious (and by now, rather loud) distress, an old man in a battered coat tottered up to the bridge. "Geen problem," he said with an amused grin and a vaguely encouraging wave of his hand. "No problem!"

"O, no problem daw sabi ni lolo! He must know what he's talking about, right? He's Dutch!" I said.

Asserting the ultimate faith in the innate goodness of humankind, Marlon switched the engine back on to its lowest setting. Which left nothing else for us to do but plaster ourselves to the floor of the boat and laugh like hyenas on crack.

It was the longest minute of my Amsterdam life.

As we emerged, laughing hysterically, nerves shredded but boat and bumbunans intact, lolo waving cheerfully from the bridge, I knew we had just made another awesome Amsterdam memory.

We sure could have used one of these, though!

Apart from our hilarious/harrowing encounter with the bridge, plus an unexpected stretch of large choppy waves on the Overtoomse Sluis, it was smooth sailing all the way home. 

Water seems to be the Dutch element. They seem happier, warmer, more relaxed and more gracious in their boats. People in passing boats will joke with each other, like this dad who played at throwing his squealing toddler over to us. Naturally, we pretended to prepare to catch the little boy. Everyone smiles and waves at each other, sharing good vibes in passing. 

We might not share the confidence or adeptness with which this boat-loving culture navigates the waters. That can only come from a relationship with the water that begins from childhood, and is woven into the very history of a people.



But the sunshine sparkling on the water, the sound of the water lapping gently against the boat, the calming stillness in in its movement—these are available to all.

So though we are not adept in the intricacies of boat and water, we can partake in their pleasures... even just for a little while.