Footloose and Fancy-Free
I’ve been debating the pros and cons of solo travelling for many years now, and this month, after finally getting a long-term Schengen visa, I thought it was time to put those theories to test.
Also, bless Eurostar – it is infinitely easier to arrive just an hour in advance to an accessible part of the city and have your check-in completed in 20 minutes than to go through the rigmarole of air travel.
My destination was Amsterdam, thanks to its proximity to London (4 hours by train), and Brussels to visit a cousin. So, this might qualify as a semi-solo trip.
To all the advocates out there, I hear you. It is liberating to go where you want, when you want, chat with friendly strangers and break out of your daily routine. It just takes some getting used to. Also, as someone who’d visited the city more than a decade ago with her friend and experienced a coffeeshop for the first time, the first two days had me wishing for the company of said friends who made such trips more enjoyable.
I did get to experience an apple pie shop suggested by another friend (Winkel 43 for those interested), which served its famous and delicious homemade apple pie along with the best mulled wine I’ve had. They also let me cut the queue (thanks to my being a party of one) and join the community table. I was grateful to escape the cold but also relieved to see that the line was quick-moving. It let me enjoy my meal in peace.
People braving the cold for a slice of apple pie.
Worth it!
In the second leg, I visited Belgium (even closer home), including the postcard-perfect Bruges. Sipping Islay whiskey with cousins in a bustling pub at night, hot chocolate with marshmallows the next day, and later viewing the only Michaelangelo sculpture outside of Italy were the highlights of my trip. Also, it felt good to progress from Han Solo to Three’s Company.
My planning was haphazard at best, so instead of booking a return ticket from Brussels (which made more sense), I returned to Amsterdam for another day and a half to catch my train back. But the worst-laid plans also work. I got to meet an ex-boss and his wife for dinner, who were back in the city that day and on my cousin’s recommendation, decided to visit the lesser-known Haarlem (which the New York neighbourhood gets its name from).
It was a good call. Being off-season and off-tourist maps, it was less windy (with fewer canals) and warmer (with friendlier locals). A trip to Jopenkerk provided shelter from rain and had me day drinking fruity beers while humming favourite Freddie Mercury numbers serendipitously playing in the background. With a sunnier disposition than when I had entered, I visited a windmill from those quintessential Netherlands adverts, the sole surviving city gate (of twelve) and a former prison turned work-study-theatre space. Here, a barista took help from three of his colleagues to make sure that the dancing miniature I was looking at worked. The third one could finally locate the button, and all curious friends gathered around, saying that they now needed to see the model in action and cheered when it did. I was cheered too, and sat down to have coffee and their generous serving of cookies.
Windmill De Adriaan, Haarlem, The Netherlands
Finally, a protestant church that housed the most depicted musical instrument in the world (played by 10-year-old Mozart) and a genial septuagenarian guide telling me the church was never quite as empty rounded up the trip.
The Müller organ at St. Bavokerk, Haarlem
The way back was even smoother, if possible, and I fittingly bought a book by a Dutch author and professor teaching us about the reality of migration. I’ve loved the book so far (as both an internal and international migrant) and will review it here in the near future. So watch this space.
My verdict is that solo travel is good for you if you keep the journeys short and the conversations going. Tot ziens.
