Dinesh was thrilled to be in Amsterdam, the capital of the Netherlands, with his Mum and Dad. Struggling to put on his back pack at the Schipol airport, Dinesh was excited to see that all he had to do was take the lift down from the airport to the railway station, which was in the same building. As he stood in the elevator with his parents with their two large suitcases, he laughed excitedly, when he walked out to find, he was indeed on the platform of a train station.

“Look up there at the train schedule,” said his Dad, “our train to Centraal Station will be here in a few minutes.”

Dinesh stood on the platform feeling very important, repeatedly looking at his wrist watch, to check if the train was on time; 6:30pm said the train schedule and sure enough, there was the train— bang on time!

There was no rush with hundreds of passengers like he remembered in the Chennai station back home. Instead people waited politely for passengers to disembark and then new passengers climbed on. It was such a nice feeling to get into a perfectly clean train which was warm inside, as it was cold and shivery outside.

Such a strange city, thought Dinesh as the cab took them to their hotel. There was so much water everywhere and the houses were built along the canals filled with water. Tall houses, which made him strain his neck to look up at them. The people too were so tall and while Dinesh and his parents walked into the hotel he jokingly asked, “Hey Dad! are the Dutch the tallest people in the world?”

“Yes, they are!,” said his Dad, “the Dutch are the tallest people in the world. You are right!”

The next morning Dinesh and his parents decided to take one of the blue trams that criss-crossed the city going clang-clang as they sped by. “There is a tram at 11:05 am,” said Dinesh’s Dad, “let’s hurry.” What is the great hurry thought Dinesh to himself thinking buses and trams would be late any-way. Even the Boeing ‘plane that brought him to Amsterdam was over an hour late in taking off. But no! the tram came swinging into the tram station exactly at five minutes past eleven and every tram or bus that Dinesh ever travelled on in Amsterdam, came right on time. Why can’t we have public transport like this back in India, thought Dinesh. Our roads in Chennai would magically open up and pollution levels would fall dramatically.

But what Dinesh loved the most was how everyone in Amsterdam cycled everywhere, rather than drive cars and scooters. Even old women and men like his Amma and Ajja cycled to the supermarket and bought their own groceries and did their own housework. Whole families— Mums, Dads and children cycled to the market, to school, to work. He found it fun to see men and women in business suits, cycling to important offices.

No fancy cars with chauffeurs like his Dad had in Chennai. “Cycling is a way of life and that is why there are no fat people in Amsterdam,” said Dinesh’s Dad. In India we have this weird idea that only poor people cycle, thought Dinesh and the roads are crowded with cars.

Canal cruise...
“Let’s go on a canal cruise,” said Dinesh’s mum after a couple of days. “Oh no Mum! that’s so boring,” grumbled Dinesh. But his parents had already bought the tickets and he went very reluctantly, dragging his feet and making his Dad laugh at his grumpy face. “Wait and see, you will love the ride,” said his Dad.

Sure enough the cruise was a ride which Dinesh said he would never ever forget in his life. Off they went, cruising along canals, looking at an Amsterdam that was different from what they saw on land. “The canals are flushed out every single day,” explained the guide, “ that is why they never smell and are always clean. However don’t fall into them, the water is icy cold and not a pleasant experience.”

Soon the days sped by and it was time for them to leave for home. Before going away Dinesh wanted some souvenir of the city to take home. They went to the floating Flower Market, which is the only one of its kind in the world, in Amsterdam.

There Dinesh’s Mum chose a bag of tulip bulbs to take home and hopefully grow in Chennai. Dinesh had to be happy with a pretty blue and white porcelain windmill with three blades. Dinesh’s Dad got a beautiful poster of a Van Gogh painting from the Museum as his souvenir. “We will get it framed in Chennai and put it up in the apartment so we will always remember our trip to Amsterdam,” he said.