They say you never step into the same river twice — but what about the same canal?
This September, I returned to the Netherlands once again. It wasn’t my first visit, but the country has a way of surprising me each time. Between the buzzing bikes, the shimmering canals, and the timeless art of Vermeer, Rembrandt, and Van Gogh, I found myself falling in love all over again with this small but endlessly fascinating country.
Delft: Apple Pie and Vermeer
On Monday morning, we caught an EasyJet flight from Newcastle to Amsterdam Schiphol. In less than an hour and a half, we were there. Schiphol feels like a well-oiled machine — efficient, clear, and surprisingly calm for such a huge airport.
After passport control, we boarded a train to Delft, where my husband had studied and worked thirty years ago. The ride took about thirty minutes, and soon we were in the heart of this little city, a jewel of canals and gabled houses.
We dropped our bags at the hotel (booked on Expedia) and stepped out to explore. Windy but dry weather made a café stop irresistible: steaming coffee and a slice of Dutch apple pie with whipped cream. Pure heaven.
From there we wandered to the Nieuwe Kerk and the Vermeer Centrum Delft. While the museum holds no originals, it offers a fascinating journey into the painter’s world — his studio, his city, and his quiet brilliance.
That evening, we dined in a local pub: mussels, fries, and a Belgian pint. Simple, hearty, and delicious.
Amsterdam in the Rain
The next morning, we traded Delft for Amsterdam. Our hotel was a short walk from Central Station, and given the downpour, the plan was obvious: head straight for the Rijksmuseum.
We hadn’t booked tickets, but on a Tuesday afternoon, the lines were short. For over three hours, we wandered among Dutch Golden Age treasures: Vermeer’s quiet light, Rembrandt’s drama, and Van Gogh’s intensity.
The Rijksmuseum, founded in 1800 in The Hague and moved to Amsterdam in 1808, is now a temple to 800 years of Dutch art and history. Walking through its halls on a rainy day felt like stepping into the very soul of the country.
Later, we warmed up with coffee in a nearby café and kept dinner simple at the hotel: cheese, ham, and bread. Sometimes, the local basics are the best.
Van Gogh at Last
Wednesday brought more rain and wild wind. Umbrellas were useless, so we bundled up and wandered around Dam Square before queuing at the Van Gogh Museum.
This time, I was ready — tickets booked well in advance. I had tried twice before to visit, without luck. Finally, I was inside.
It was emotional. I’ve admired Van Gogh for years, from exhibitions abroad (like the interactive show in Seville, 2018) to books and films. But nothing compares to standing before the originals — his brushstrokes alive with colour and movement.
His final painting, created just before his tragic suicide, left me heartbroken. Yet seeing it here, in the city he loved and struggled in, also felt like a tribute to his genius.
We ended the day in a pub, letting the warmth of Dutch beer ease us after the rain.
Tulips, Rembrandt, and Gardens
On Thursday we turned our attention to flowers, art, and greenery.
We started with the Tulip Museum, a small but delightful place that traces how tulips arrived from the Ottoman Empire and became a Dutch obsession. The famous “Tulip Mania” of the 1600s, when bulbs were traded for the price of houses, is told with humor and charm.
Next came the Rembrandt House Museum. Here, the painter lived, worked, and collected a fortune’s worth of rare objects—shells, weapons, and stuffed animals. His passion for collecting eventually ruined him, but his art remains. Walking through his workshop felt like stepping into history.
Finally, we relaxed at the Hortus Botanicus, one of the world’s oldest botanical gardens. The lush plants and quiet paths were breathtaking.
What I love most about Amsterdam, though, is how plants spill out of homes and line the streets. Pots and vines everywhere—as if neighbors compete for the biggest, healthiest, and greenest displays.
And of course, those crooked canal houses. Some tilt like Pisa’s tower, thanks to centuries-old wooden foundations sinking in soft soil. Their imperfection only adds to the city’s charm.
Goodbye to the Lowlands
Friday morning, after breakfast, we caught a bus back to Schiphol Airport. Public transport in the Netherlands isn’t cheap, but it’s efficient. Traffic in central Amsterdam stays light thanks to trains, buses, and trams.
What did I find harder to love? The sheer number of cyclists. They ride fast, fearless, and sometimes aggressively. I was always watching my step, half-wondering how many end up in the canals each year.
By 3 p.m., we were back in Newcastle. Our Dutch adventure was over — for now. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that the Netherlands never stops surprising me. And I know I’ll be back again.
Thanks for reading.
Laura Bernardeschi Nelson artworld and travels 
This is such a nice overview of your trip. I too have a love for the country, so reading this made me smile.
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