Amsterdam also exists

Yesterday I went to Amsterdam to visit a couple of friends and to see the Van Gogh museum. These two goals were achieved quite to my satisfaction, along with another that the previous post may have led you to expect: Lizbeth, who decided to take me on a wonderful little walking tour of the old city, included a substantial walk through the surprisingly beautiful Red Light District of Amsterdam. Mostly the place was pretty innocuous at 11:00 in the morning, although the ubiquitous presence of sex shops was a little out of place with the quiet streets and old-world charm of the area. Also incongruous with the reputation of the district was this amazing museum consisting of a 17th-century merchant house that is perfectly preserved with original decorations, furnishings, and the lot. The house looks like a normal private residence from the outside, and it is just that until you get to the third floor - that floor, however, is a complete and fully appointed Catholic church, with seating for at least a hundred people. It was built in the time of the high Dutch painting boom, too, so all the church decorations just so happen to be excellent works of art in that highly recognizable Dutch style. Apparently the deal with the church is that it was illegal at that time and for many years afterward for Catholic churches to operate openly, meaning that any church that was visible from the street would be torn down. In order to continue practicing their faith, then, wealthy merchants all over Amsterdam would turn the top floor of their homes into beautiful churches that still looked from the outside like normal private homes. The way Dutch persecution of Catholicism worked meant that there was no need for the fact that a church was present and operating in a given location to be kept secret; it was fine if everyone knew that a given home actually contained a church, as long as you couldn't actually tell by looking at it that it was in fact a den of papist devilry. Awesome.

The Van Gogh museum is also quite excellent, which is obvious enough. I saw a lovely painting of his with three brightly colored boats beached on a shore that I had first seen in May at the Neue Gallerie in New York, which marks the official first time that I have seen the same painting in person in two different countries. I am so cosmopolitan I can hardly stand it. Don't even waste your time being jealous, as this level of international hipsterism is not intended for ordinarily mortals.

Tomorrow: Cologne!

The Day after Tomorrow: Deodorant! (and worldwide destruction wrought by global warming)