You know when you plan a trip, and you think you have a solid grasp of where to go and what to see? That was me before heading to Amsterdam. I had this curated list of the best things to do in Amsterdam, every museum and café meticulously pinned on my map. But somehow, in the midst of all that planning, I didn't quite prepare myself for the delightful messiness of actually being there.
This spot? Total surprise.
So, picture this: it's my first full day, and I'm in the De Pijp neighborhood. It's a Sunday morning, the air is crisp, and I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed. I mean, I'm in Amsterdam, and I'm trying to act like I know what I'm doing, but honestly, I'm just bobbing along with the crowds. I meander past the famous Albert Cuyp Market and get slightly distracted by a stall selling poffertjes—these tiny, airy Dutch pancakes that look like happy little clouds.
I don't know why I ended up there. Maybe it was the delicious smell wafting through the air or the smiling vendor. Anyway, I grab a heap of poffertjes, and I'm immediately in heaven, dusted with powdered sugar and drenched in syrup. It's a spontaneous splurge that wasn't on my list, but wow, it was just what I needed. This little market stall became a moment of joy amid my carefully laid plans.
The afternoon that changed my whole mood
Later in the day, I visited the Rijksmuseum. I had my heart set on the Vermeer and Rembrandt paintings—definitely high on the list of the best things to do in Amsterdam. But here's the thing: I've done museums before, and sometimes they can feel a bit like you're just checking off boxes, right? Entering the museum, I was braced for the expected overwhelm of art history.
And then I found myself in this room filled with light. There was a crowd gathered around “The Night Watch,” and I remember standing there, my mouth agape. Seriously, have you ever experienced a piece of art that just hits you in the gut? Seeing the details up close—the fabric, the emotion, the sheer craftsmanship—was something I didn't anticipate. It felt personal. It was like the painting was echoing human stories across centuries, nudging at my own experiences.
I sat on a nearby bench for a while, absorbing it all. My mind drifted, wandering through the pieces I'd seen and the stories they carried. I don't know if it's weird to say, but at that moment, I felt a sort of connection—with the art, with myself, with everyone who had ever stood in that very spot contemplating the same piece. Talk about an unexpected afternoon that shifted my mood completely.
I almost missed this, no thanks to my bad sense of direction
Then there was that whole “adventuring around” part of my trip. I'm pretty directionally challenged, which is a lovely trait to have while exploring a city with tangled canals. One moment, I'm confidently striding along a picturesque canal, and the next, I've somehow taken a wrong turn and am stumbling into a quiet little neighborhood.
Honestly, I wasn't expecting much. It was late afternoon, and I was starting to feel that classic traveler fatigue. But oh, how wrong I was! I wandered into a tiny restaurant, completely flushed with the smell of fresh herbs, and I had a spontaneous dinner that turned out to be the highlight of my trip.
This place was called Café de Klepel. There was no sign or anything—just a charming façade, but once I stepped inside, I felt immediately at home. The menu was handwritten, and I just said, “What do you recommend?” to the server, who I think was also the chef because he got super animated as he answered. I ended up with this hearty stew that was brimming with slow-cooked meat and root vegetables, paired with a local beer.
The food was simple and rustic but cooked with so much love. It was one of those meals where you just know they care—not just about the food, but about the experience. I sat there in that cozy little spot, feeling a wave of gratitude for getting lost. It was an unplanned moment that turned out to be one of my favorites.
Little detours that actually mattered
Of course, I had my fair share of little mistakes too. Like that day I hopped on a tram, trying to look like a local (well, attempting to), but I must've punched in the wrong stop. Instead of buzzing around like I had planned, I found myself in some random suburban area. It felt a bit disheartening at first, but as I walked around, I stumbled upon a bakery. Getting a fresh stroopwafel from a shop where no tourists were congregating felt like a little secret treasure I'd discovered.
And let me tell you, standing there, savoring that warm, gooey caramel-filled waffle while watching the locals go about their day gave me a sense of belonging that I hadn't expected. Sometimes, it's these little detours, the “wrong” turns, that carve out the best memories.
I sat down by a small park, the sun dipping low, and munched on my stroopwafel, soaking it all in—the laughter of kids playing nearby, the gentle breeze, and the feeling of being completely present.
As I look back on the trip now, it's all these messy moments—the surprises, the detours, the unexpected turns—that made it feel so alive. They reminded me that the best things to do in Amsterdam aren't always the ones on a carefully curated list. Sometimes, it's the spontaneity that leads to the most memorable experiences, and I wouldn't trade that for the world.
Well, look at me. I've rambled on long enough, but there's something to be said about sharing these stories. It wasn't everything I planned, but maybe that's kind of the point. Anyway, I should probably get going. The coffee's gone cold, and Amsterdam feels like a world away now, even if the memories linger like the scent of fresh poffertjes.
