A Little Off-Track - Boracay

This post is a “little” off-track. The truth is, it’s the rainy season here in the Philippines … not biking weather. Not for me, anyway. So we went off to Boracay. Well, most people would say it’s not Boracay weather, either. To go to a beach regularly voted among the top five white sand beaches in the world … during a typhoon? Well, we were hungry for sand and sea and the hotel was giving a good promo so we trusted in our luck and went.

A Look Back

Biking around Boracay, 1992

Boracay had developed and changed yet again. The first time I went, in the early 90s, people got around on foot or on motorbikes, or making angkas (riding shotgun) on motorbikes … 2 to 3 people riding behind the driver. Most of the restaurants were nipa huts. Our first night there, we took taxi-motorbikes and hung on for dear life as the drivers roared down pitch black lanes by the light of one tiny headlight. We ate pizza made by an Italian beachcomber in a nipa hut. In those days, when we went to the beach, we usually brought our own food: precooked adobo or canned corned beef or marinated pork chop. But in Boracay, one could have not just pizza, but flambed crepes! It was different and exotic. We walked on the beach to get back to the hotel, by the light of the moon reflected on the sand.

One of the draws of Boracay in those days was the topless bathing. Whereas the foreigners were drawn by the white sand, Filipinos were drawn by the topless foreigners. There was a bit of a drug scene, as well, and a great party scene (still is). Bazurah disco, an open-air disco under coconut trees, and a bar/raft in the sea were legendary party places that, unfortunately, I never got to see.

On my next trip to Boracay, nipa huts were disappearing, and people no longer made angkas on bikes because the tricycles had arrived. Friday’s was still the best hotel, but there were many more lining the beach. And one, Pink Patio, had a swimming pool, climbing wall and a gym. I hated it! Too citified! On my next trip, there was more concrete, a 300-room hotel and – gasp, oh no! – a mall. Now, there’s glass and chrome and some cars, a ferris wheel, billboards and fast food. Sigh. The chain eateries from Manila have finally gotten a toehold, for ages the local government managed to keep them out. Pancake House, Gerry’s Grill and, of course, Starbucks are all in D’Mall (Yes, that’s the name of the mall.). Every new introduction is greeted with horror as the beginning of the end, but despite it all thank goodness, Boracay’s charm remains.

The runway and downtown Boracay in the early 90s


The main road, right by Willie's

The Prequel - Moving On with Cannabis and Champagne

Dutch Treats

I checked out the floating flower market and was disappointed with the flowers, but was impressed with the cannabis starter kits! I sat in yet another outdoor café and had potato pancakes, kopjes I think they were called. Nearby, I discovered a shop selling hallucinogenic mushrooms. The shop looked like a clean, bright pharmacy, not like the dives that would sell marijuana in the Village in New York. The drugs were not only legal, they were also organic and -- how considerate! -- were neatly labeled with a description of the high one would get, and -- how practical! -- an estimated length of time the high would last. I was so busy admiring their sense of organization and efficiency in even this, that it didn’t even occur to square old me to buy and try some. An opportunity missed!

Then it was time to catch our evening flight to Vienna, the starting point of our bike trip.

But Amsterdam had some last surprises to delight us. Schipol Airport was vast and had some luxurious outlets. The one we went to had chocolate in all its forms: liquid, pastries, cakes, ice cream, pralines, with accompanying wine and little snacks. Beside it was a bar called Bubbles, that had a wall of niches containing the best champagne and wines, all available by the glass. To go with the Dom Perignon or Veuve Clicquot or Cristal there was, of course, nothing but caviar, smoked salmon, sashimi and other pricey delectables. All very classy and unexpected in an airport. It reinforced our impression that the Dutch know how to live, and that Amsterdam is one hot city!

We were ready and raring to go on a 400-kilometre bike trip....

The Prequel - The Wonderful Museumplein

Charo went on a tour that left the city and visited a windmill. I stayed to go to the Van Gogh museum. But first, brunch. I discovered that the ornate building right across the street from the hotel was the Municipal Theatre. It had a cafe/restaurant in front with tables spilling out on the sidewalk. I had my morning coffee and toast there just to be able to sit in that beautiful space.
Then I set out for the Museumplein, where the Van Gogh museum is located. The Museumplein itself is a wonderful grassy plaza surrounded by museums. The Van Gogh Museum is an intriguing aggressively modern structure, with a box sticking out its side.

I was very moved by Van Gogh’s story, even more than by his paintings. I was amazed to learn that he never drew or painted until the age of 25 or 26 when, not being accepted as a pastor and realizing that he could not fulfill his religious calling, he decided to become a painter … sort of picked out a career from a hat, as it were. His primary purpose for painting was at first to tell the story of the suffering poor. His painting went under such a transformation: from dark, depressing scenes of miserable huddled peasants to fields, flowers and rooms bursting with color. Funnily, with no people in them.









There were so many delightful and whimsical things in Amsterdam. The glass structure above was the entrance to underground parking. Right: There were little elephants grazing all around the Museumplein, in crazy colors and patterns. This one obviously didn't impress the lady biker.

The Prequel - The Canals

Not Venice, Amsterdam!That afternoon, we took the water taxi on the canal to the Anne Frank house. I was rather disappointed. It’s been spoiled with over-modernising and overdoing the message; there are TV screens and video presentations everywhere. The foundation must have a lot of money and keeps improving and tinkering with the museum, instead of letting the tiny, bleak apartment speak for itself. The constant reminding of Jews’ persecution only served to highlight the irony that now they are the persecutors in Palestine.

The water taxi wound its leisurely way down canals lined with quaint townhouses, and past tables where people ate and drank and chatted in the sun. The atmosphere was so relaxed and convivial, it felt Mediterranean. Finally, the boat reached the end of the circuit, the train station. This was the dirty, busy part of Amsterdam, the only interesting thing being a massive, three-storey garage for bicycles. We hopped on a tram to get out of there as fast as we could. It was much more pleasant to walk along the canals, while the shadows lengthened in the late afternoon light. We had dinner in the Hotel’s outdoor cafe, which was an excellent place to spend a warm summer evening, as there was a plaza right in front, with trees and a beautiful fountain. The dancing water attracted a variety of people that kept us entertained over dinner and coffee, until dark.

Views along the canals.

The Prequel

The Dutch Masters



We started the day badly -- gastronomically, that is. The only thing open at 8:30 was an unexciting English pub/cafe so I had eggs and bacon and Charo a club sandwich -- how blah. The platters came laden with food, tons of it, which we exclaimed with horror we’d never get through ... and did! Three fried eggs on 3 pieces of toast, salad and a whole pack of salty bacon was all just for me and was, actually quite effortlessly, polished off. And, surprise, Charo did just as thoroughly with her order. We ascribed it to jet lag.

While we indulged, we looked around and discovered that our hotel was wonderfully located: surrounded with theatres, bars and restaurants, and within walking distance of so many attractions. The plaza in front of the hotel, the Leidseplein, had a major intersection of 5 streets on which cars, buses, trams, motorbikes, pedestrians and bikes criss-crossed each other with no island on which to take refuge. It was quite intimidating to cross, especially since there were no side-walks: pedestrian and bike lanes were separated from car traffic only by a line of colored brick ... the number of times I was almost run down by a bicycle! I was intrigued at all the people on bikes, some pushing little wheelbarrow-like boxes in front filled with groceries or children; others talking on their cellphones while pedaling; one woman with an infant on the handle bars, a toddler behind and 2 youngsters on bikes accompanying her.


Our first target was the Rijksmuseum to see the Rembrandts. It was different, and much improved, from what I remember from 30 years ago. I didn’t realize, or forgot, that there were famous Van Dycks, as well as Frans Hals .. in short, all the Dutch Masters. I got a great overview and understood for the first time why Rembrandt was so famous then and considered such a genius now. His work must have been cutting-edge in his day. He was very bold, creative and original in the way he did his rough and thick brushstrokes; in the way he posed his subjects and composed his pictues; and, of course, in the way he used exaggerated contrasts of light and dark. “Ciarroscuro”, I was taught in Art History class but only now, with his contemporaries’ work all around, did I understand how different and original this was.

There seems to have been two styles: rough and smooth. I marvelled at the perfection of the smooth style, with no brush strokes seen, smooth as lacquer and the skin with a glow that seemed to emanate from within. The portraits of Verdonk were in that smooth style, whereas Frans Hals figures didn’t have that glow because his brushstrokes were purposely rough. The paintings have to be seen in real life since they all look smooth and polished in reproductions.

I loved the museum and spent the most educational 2 hours in it. But I had to hurry off and go back to the hotel as I was feeling really nauseous from the Tamiflu I was having to take.

A city of serious bikers.


This is a garage for bikes -- all 3 storeys of it.


This was right beside our hotel, advertising a festival of street theater.
The performance was on the street right by the hotel, as well. (groan)

The Prequel - Amsterdam

Our port of entry into Europe was Amsterdam, so we decided to stay 2 nights there. I hadn't been there since the 60s and I wanted to rediscover it. What a providential decision! We had time to get over our jet lag, and me to recover completely from my strep throat, before we started our exertions on our bikes.

We arrived to a cloudless, warm summer evening, even though it was early September. It was bright and sunny at 6pm, and stayed so until 8 -- such a friendly welcome! It was so bright, in fact, that Charo was convinced it was 6 in the morning and was all set to spend the day touring until, after having unpacked and dressed, she looked out the window and saw it was dark! “Why is the sky dark all of a sudden? There must be a typhoon coming!”

Learning that it was 8 at night didn’t deter her for a moment, and she went off on the evening canal cruise. I, meanwhile, stayed to revel in our wonderful bay-windowed, canal-view room, for which we had decided to pay an extra E30 a night. Later on that evening, however, I cursed our new expensive location because right outside us on the street was a temporary stage from where they were playing loud music. So I couldn’t sleep despite a deliciously soft and comfortable bed. To my relief, they stopped before 11 and all was quiet after that.

We were staying in the Eden Amsterdam American Hotel. It was right on a canal, very charming and old-worldy, with a spectacular dining room and an outdoor restaurant that faced a square and a fountain ... I loved it. The trip was off to a great start!

Apres-Bike

Auf Wiedersehen

Our last day was devoted to intensive sight-seeing of museums. First stop was the Belvedere Palace. This was not far from the city centre and had extensive formal gardens. Lack of time – and a very hot sun – limited us to the Upper Belvedere palace — and that was a lot already! There were permanent exhibitions of 19th and 20th century Austrian paintings. I felt so ignorant! A whole undiscovered world of painting unfolded before me. Aside from Gustav Klimt, there was Egon Schiele and the whole Austrian Secession Movement to discover. Egon Schiele’s work was haunting and tortured and violent. Although not usually a fan of angst-ridden art, I was riveted before painting after painting. There was an impressive collection of Gustav Klimt, so attractive and stylish.

Schonbrunn Palace was next – the last time I had seen it, I was 16 years old. This was the home of Sissi and Franz Josef, from the “Forever My Love” series of movies that I loved as a pre-teen in Assumption School. Aahhh, Romy Schneider and I-forget-who, that I swooned over! How sad that the real story, as could be discerned between the lines of the very tactful commentaries in each room, was so different! The 3 or 4 rooms occupied by Emperor Franz Josef were small and almost ascetic compared to the enormous size of the castle and its gorgeous exterior and public places. Here he lived out his daily grind, minding the children and the Empire – while his adored wife flounced around Europe with nothing to do but mind her figure, and her hair, and her complexion.

One by one the group peeled away: Val first after Budapest, then Myrna on reaching Vienna. On the last night, there was only Charo and me left, but we ended it with a flourish, typical of the whole trip: a sinfully rich dessert at a historic site, gelato in the Eissalon on Schwedenplatz, an institution since 1886. Great way to end a trip!