We aren’t music festival people. It’s the association with mud and tents and portaloos and unwashed masses. This isn’t to say that we haven’t been to one (we have, to one) or that we would never go to a music festival again; we keep an eye out on some of the heavy rock and alternative festivals just to see what luxury options they have for accommodation when we remember (no, not glamping; a tent with dividers is still a tent), but that’s often after any such possibilities have already sold out or we’ve already booked other things that make taking time off impossible. There are a few regular music festivals local to us that would mean we could simply go home at the end of the day but when we’ve looked at the playlists and realised we’d have to listen to 99% likely dreadful music just to hear that one good track by that one artist we’ve heard of we’ve decided against attending. A surprise then that during our taster cruise aboard Celebrity Silhouette to Amsterdam we made our main goal of our full day in the city to head along to the Liberation Day music festival?
Maybe not. We may not be music festival people but we are experiential people, especially when it’s not a common experience, and for the obvious reason that life is short, nobody really knows what tomorrow will bring, but that the good money is on our species dying off in a failed science attempt to undo the damage to the planet before we reach retirement age. Many people have walked on the Great Wall of China (done it) and many people have seen the Northern Lights (that too) but the number who have experienced both is small as a fraction of the planet’s population. We’ve experienced a lot of things that combine to make our travels unique and this opportunity to attend a music festival in a foreign country is just another one to add to the list. It’s that one-upmanship that everyone who travels shares; we all want to be the ones in conversations to have done the thing or combination of things that nobody else has done, to ignite even a mote of jealousy. Don’t believe any traveller who denies it.
Westerpark
And so to the second part of our day in Amsterdam, the part following on from our successful search for Sex And Violence And Beer. Leaving the bar we headed towards Westerpark, a place you may not be at all surprised to learn is a park to the, er, west of the city, even if you don’t speak any Dutch.
We could hear the music from the very outskirts of the park so the lack of any signs wasn’t a problem at all. A few paths headed in the general direction through the grassy areas and trees and it was an easy enough walk so long as you kept an eye out for cyclists thundering through (well, it is Amsterdam) and obviously drunk or stoned guys swaying and shouting incoherently (well, it is Amsterdam) and veered away from them. We diverted slightly from the most direct route towards the music in order to take a look at a lake in which there was a statue of a headless woman (nope, no idea) and a number of birds present.
Troost Brewery
We’d expected perhaps a little more from what we saw in Westerpark and the music festival area when we entered. There was one stage where music was being performed in front of a small crowd, there was a huge open space of grass, there were some food vans in the distance, there were some buildings to one side, and there was a smaller crowd still in front of that.
On the one hand this was very early evening and the festival was due to continue until late so it might have been too early for most attendees, but on the other hand this was a Sunday so it didn’t seem like there was much else to do. The only thing that we remarked on that might have been having an effect was the wind which had been bad enough when walking in the streets of Amsterdam but out in the exposed park it was decidedly frigid indeed. We ignored the music to start with and walked straight through to the buildings because there was one thing present there that I knew from looking at the map: a brewery.
Brouwerij Troost Westergas, in its own words, “is a brewery, brewpub and shop in one” and a very attractive place indeed. A good range of ales all produced on the site, plenty of seating, food available. Well worth a visit if you’re nearby but worth noting that they only take card payments. We both went for the Brunette ale and it was bloody lovely although we had to sit outside due to the venue’s popularity, some of which may have been due to other people trying to find a way out of the wind.
DJ Stage
The smaller crowd we’d seen upon first entering Westerpark weren’t all just huddled around the brewery; the majority were instead enjoying the sounds booming out of a small stage setup hosting some DJs. Did we know any of the tunes playing? Don’t be so stupid. Did we like it? Actually, yes, because a lot of what we listened to sampled some old school hip-hop and disco and soul tracks which was right up our musical alleys. We didn’t enjoy it quite as much as some people there and when the wind whipped around in a different direction you could get the odd whiff of just why they were having such a good time but, well, it is Amsterdam.
As you can see from the photos and from the video (temporarily removed) there were plenty of coats done up tightly, many instances of gloves being worn, hats and scarfs in abundance. You can’t tell but we were huddled close together and bouncing along with the beat of the music but mostly just to keep warm as we’re not really the dancing types when we’re sober.
I was reluctant to leave the music and the opportunity to take photos of people, something I just don’t do anywhere enough these days, so I persuaded my wife to shift around and closer to the crowd enjoying the DJ to see if we could use them as a form of shelter. It didn’t really work because the wind has scary magical powers that lets it go around individuals who aren’t tightly clumped together so we didn’t stay much longer.
Music Festival Food
We decided to make our way back to the main stage but indirectly, via the food vans we’d seen a little earlier just to see if any of them were producing the right sort of smells that might entice us to part with some Euros. Short answer: no. Longer answer because when have I ever used a short answer on this site when there are sentences and paragraphs just waiting to spill forth from my fingers?: we thought the range of food on offer was pretty decent, covering most tastes and dietary requirements or choices: omnivores and vegans were equally catered for. Given the number of people actually attending the Liberation Day music festival it was probably just the right amount of food offerings too. Simply put, though, we didn’t suddenly turn to one another and say “Ooh, yes! Let’s sit on one of these chairs exposed to the elements while tucking into this fine fare!” and so we walked on by.
Main Stage Music
We reached the main stage area and located a spot at the back of the few-hundred-strong crowd gathered in front of it. We did debate moving in amongst the bodies for more shelter but the choices were either to stand amongst the smokers or the dancers.
Something we’ve found a lot when we’ve travelled in Europe is that smoking seems far more noticeable than back home. I don’t know if Europeans smoke more or if locations abroad that attract tourists just also attract a larger number of smokers through the power of statistical probability, making it more obvious than at home because who in their right mind would visit the crappy sections (that’s most of them) of Portsmouth I find myself in? It’s something we’ve observed less outside Europe, though, but not observed enough to perform any kind of scientific analysis of numbers, nor would we really want to. Maybe we’re all just more stressed here. Perhaps if more of those people travelled abroad they’d have less need to smoke. And they’d want to save their money for travelling. Travel is arguably good for a well-rounded mental state – Mark Twain, of course, famously stated: “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime” – but should it be a physical health right too? And should I stop digressing and get back to describing this Liberation Day music festival in Amsterdam?
The smokers wasn’t an option, therefore, and as I’ve already indicated it takes a threshold of alcohol to get us shimmying and shaking so we thought better of mingling with the movers in case our static presences irritated those enjoying themselves. I can care about other people. There’s no need to look so surprised. We slowly edged around the back of the crowd with the intention of cutting our visit to the festival short on account of there being less to see than we’d hoped for and us being too sober to not care about being unable to feel our fingers.
The artists on stage in Westerpark were called Arp Frique And Family. It won’t surprise you to learn that we had not heard of them before but that’s pretty much true for any artist who didn’t have some form of musical success in the twentieth century. But, we quite liked the music. Good mix of African rhythms fused with elements of prog rock to form a genre you can’t find listed as a suggestion on Spotify. And the crowd certainly appreciated what they were listening to with some quite energetic dancing from some members of it near the front of the stage.
The wind was that sort of cold that you think isn’t too bad for a few seconds or a minute but it has the effect of slowly sucking out all your warmth like a sponge so our plan to head “inside, somewhere, anywhere” was still on track, but coming alongside the front of the main stage I realised there was quite a large gap between the dancers and the artists performing. Were the people leaving a respectful distance as part of some unwritten rule of music festivals in the Netherlands? Were they simply not that keen to be looking up so much at Arp Frique or his family because neck health is an important consideration on the continent? Had the bass from the speakers slowly bounced them all away from the stage without their noticing? Whatever the reason, I spied an opportunity to get a lot closer than I’d expected so mouthed to my wife (on account of us being beside the speakers) “I’m just going to get some photos near the stage.” I got a nod that said “Okay” and a tight-lipped smile that said “Be quick. If I freeze to death over here I will come back to life and kill you.”
I was quite surprised to see one of the many clones of Anthony Michael Hall taken during his filming on The Breakfast Club enjoying the music; I had him down as more of a soft rock person.
The sunset was attractive in the western sky beyond Westerpark’s Liberation Day music festival but that signalled a reduction in radiation from our solar system’s star which meant it was getting colder still. Years of marriage have honed my skills and I know the threshold beyond which I cross from irritating my wife to pissing my wife off and this was it so we made our move away from the sounds of Arp Frique and back towards the city.
J.D. William’s Whisky Bar
We could have headed straight to the ship but it felt like a waste of a visit to Amsterdam if we weren’t going to take full advantage of our time in the city. We fancied a drink – don’t feign shock – and had spotted a place that sounded interesting on our earlier walk towards Westerpark so retraced some of that route.
The place we’d spotted was called the J.D. William’s Whisky Bar and in there we dropped. We had a very friendly welcome from the single member of staff we could see working who was helping another group of people to decide what they wanted and indicated he’d be along to help us too, soon. We didn’t need any help but we did need some time to peruse the wall of whiskey (I spell it with an ‘e’) and blackboard listing what was available by type.
We know what we like: Islays. Something with a rich, peaty smell. For me, it’s a memory of trips to Ireland to see family when I was a child and toasting bread over an open peat fire. For my wife, it’s a trip to Scottish islands as a child and similar house-heating methods. The friendly barman could tell we knew our stuff but was happy to chat about options and make recommendations and made small talk as he cleared tables and refreshed drinks in the venue. Whiskey turned up along with water as well as the bottles themselves for those photos for posterity and promotion; a good move from the bar.
The drinks and ambience were fabulous and we stayed for a couple. Let’s be clear, though: come with deep wallets if you’re planning on spending any time here because, like everywhere in the Dutch capital, cheap it ain’t. Still, where else could you find such a wide range of wonderful whiskies? If you do like whiskey and want to try something a little different then this place gets our seal of approval which, while worthless, does give you an excuse and someone to blame if you’re disappointed.
It was dark when we left and we decided that would be the end of our day in Amsterdam. We made our way back to the ship at the cruise terminal where we weren’t at all surprised to see a giant clog but were somewhat perplexed by the Union Jack-decorated cow. Is there a Dutch legend about a British cow swimming to the Netherlands? Let’s just assume so.
That concludes our day in Amsterdam; a day of museums, drinking, music, and occasional periods of not having any sensation in our fingers. In the remaining travel portfolio posts the final day of this short cruise aboard Celebrity Silhouette will be covered, including departure from the Dutch capital, travel along the North Sea Canal and through the locks at IJmuiden, and speciality dining in the Murano restaurant followed by the evening’s entertainment on the ship.