Marendy Blog: November 2025

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.

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

Amsterdam greeted us with a soft drizzle and muted light, the kind of dampness that clings to your coat but doesn’t quite spoil the mood. Our destination was the Anne Frank House, a short twenty‑minute walk from the hotel.

Damp and wet

Canal near Anne Franks

Anne Frank’s

Arriving a little early and slightly wet, we ducked into the pancake shop next door for a comforting coffee before our timed entry.

At 9:30 a.m., we stepped inside the museum and began the self‑guided journey through Anne Frank’s hiding place. The experience was sobering yet dignified, designed to invite reflection rather than overwhelm. In Anne’s small room—shared with another—the walls were covered with magazine clippings and film star photos, the kind of decorations any teenager might choose. Though they belonged to the 1940s, they felt strikingly familiar, as if they could have been our own daughters’ posters from another era. No photos allowed at the Museum and house but bookshop had a room by room description and photos of the house.

After leaving the museum, we wandered through the surrounding streets. Though close to the canals, the area felt distinctly urban, with bicycles dominating every spare inch of pavement. At times, walking the footpath was nearly impossible thanks to the sheer number of bikes parked there—a reminder of how deeply cycling is woven into Dutch life.

Eventually, we stumbled upon a cozy café where we shared a hearty lunch: grandma’s homemade meatballs served with mustard and a light salad, tucked into a crusty roll nearly 30 centimetres long baked on premises.

No prices but friendly locals

Meat balls and mustard

It was simple, filling, and wonderfully warming. By then, the weather had lifted, the dampness easing into a milder autumn day. We continued strolling, browsing souvenir shops, and pausing often to admire the postcard‑perfect canals that seemed to appear around every corner.

Typical street

Canals

16-17th century

Typical street view

More canals

Italians parking in Amsterdam?

After lunch, practicality called. We returned to the hotel to collect our laundry and made our way through the red‑light district to the Happy Inn laundry. Even errands in Amsterdam carry their own charm—passing neon windows and narrow canal bridges on the way to something as ordinary as washing clothes.

Who on earth names a laundry Happy Inn? The sign alone was enough to make us chuckle as we waited our washing. While we waited, a tour group paused outside, peering in as though the laundromat itself were a local attraction. A few exchanged smiles—perhaps amused by the name, just as we were.

It wasn’t glamorous, but the stop gave us something valuable: time. Time to sit, reflect, and jot down notes for today’s blog. Sometimes travel isn’t about grand cathedrals or canal views—it’s about the quirky corners, the everyday errands, and the unexpected humour tucked into a place called Happy Inn.

This afternoon we set off toward another canal, ready to experience Amsterdam’s Festival of Lights from the water. With plenty of time before our boat departure, we wandered into a different corner of the city, determined to sample its food and drink scene.

After locating our meeting point, we retraced our steps and stumbled upon a lively square. It was buzzing with cafés, an ice-skating rink, and pop-up stalls reminiscent of a Christmas market.

Mulled Wine

The air smelled of spices and roasted treats, and we couldn’t resist warming our hands around cups of mulled wine—rich, fragrant, and exactly what the chilly evening called for.

Cos ever on the hunt for comfort food, scanned the menus of nearby cafés until one promised the Dutch classics we were craving. We tucked into local dishes, including the quintessential bitterballen: crispy, golden bites with a creamy, savory filling that instantly justified their reputation.

Soon it was time for the canal tour. The boat carried us through winding waterways and out into the harbor, where installations by local light artists shimmered against the night. The festive atmosphere was enhanced by bottomless drinks and snacks, though the boat’s design made it tricky to catch every detail of the displays. From our seats at the stern, the narration was faint, leaving us to piece together the story ourselves.

Canal view of lights - Aussie artist

Canal view of lights

Science centre

Even so, gliding past illuminated bridges and glowing sculptures was memorable. While the experience didn’t quite match the dazzling portrayals we’d seen on YouTube or in glossy tour descriptions, it offered its own quieter charm—a blend of holiday spirit, Dutch hospitality, and the simple pleasure of drifting through Amsterdam at night.

On reflection, walking today through the historic centre of Amsterdam felt like stepping back in time. As we wandered along the canals, we couldn’t help but notice how the crooked gabled houses leaned toward the water, each one with its own character and story.

The narrow alleys and cobblestone streets made us imagine what life must have been like here centuries ago, when merchants and sailors filled the city during the Dutch Golden Age.

Dam Square quickly became our anchor point as our hotel located near it. Everywhere we turned, the canals framed the city like ribbons of light and reflection. Crossing bridges, we paused to watch bicycles stream past and boats glide underneath, realising how seamlessly modern life blends with the old.

Exploring the historic centre on foot gave us the chance to soak in every detail, but drifting along the canals by boat offered a different perspective—watching the façades rise above the water, glowing softly in the evening light. For us, the centre of Amsterdam wasn’t just a place to see; it was a place to feel, a living reminder of how history and daily life intertwine (and dodge push bike riders).