After a string of busy days, we gave ourselves permission to start slow this morning. Sometimes the best way to enjoy a trip is to pause, breathe, and wander without rushing.
Our plan was to visit the Van Gogh Museum, about a half-hour walk from where we’re staying. On the way, we stopped for a stroopwafel—a must-try treat in Amsterdam and the Netherlands. Sweet, chewy, and delicious, it’s the kind of snack that makes you wonder why you don’t eat one every
Unfortunately, we hadn’t factored in that it was Saturday. The museum was packed, and tickets were sold out. A rookie holiday mistake! Still, we browsed the museum gift shop and enjoyed the lively atmosphere nearby, where an ice rink had been set up in a square. Families and friends were skating, laughing, and soaking up the winter spirit—it looked like pure fun.
For lunch, we found a cozy café near the Rijksmuseum. Getting there meant climbing a classic Dutch spiral staircase, narrow and steep, which felt like part of the adventure. The restaurant was bustling, but we managed to snag one of the last tables. We sampled more Dutch specialties:
• A sour salad served on bread with melted cheese and mustard
• Bitterballen-style sausage bites with a mushroom filling
• A crisp local cider called Apple Bandit, which paired perfectly with the meal
The café was noisy, warm, and full of energy—quite the contrast to the chilly but manageable weather outside.
The afternoon was devoted to the Rijksmuseum, a treasure trove of art and history spread across multiple floors. We admired Van Gogh’s self-portrait and explored galleries dedicated to the Dutch Golden Age (1600–1700). Another section highlighted the colonial history of Indonesia, offering sobering context to Holland’s past and its independence in 1948.
From there, we made our way to the Heineken Brewery Museum. The tour walked us through the old brewing process and the brand’s history. The place was buzzing, packed wall-to-wall with millennials and Gen Z dudes, like some kind of beer frat reunion. Honestly, it felt less like a museum and more like a festival where history was just an excuse to drink.
They showed us the brewing process, or maybe they did—I was distracted by the promise of samples. First sip came mid-tour, crisp and foamy, and then two more at the bar. The floor was sticky, squeaky under our boots, like walking across a giant beer-soaked sticky fly paper. Every step was a reminder of the thousands of pints sacrificed before us.
But the real magic? The rooftop tasting. Melissa went adventurous with some foam-infused espresso beer (yes, coffee beer foam is apparently a thing, it is experimental), while Cos stuck with a silver Heineken brew. Both were surprisingly delicious—or maybe everything tastes better after three beers. We braved the damp weather, warm and fuzzy, to snap a few rooftop photos. Were they artistic? Probably not. Were they fuzzy most differently.
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By the time we headed back, the world felt warmer, and the bikes seemed faster.
Dinner was simple but satisfying, and along the way we perfected the art of dodging Amsterdam’s cyclists—every bit as daring as Italian scooter riders weaving through traffic.
All in all, it was a day of slower rhythms, unexpected detours, and plenty of local flavor
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