Adventures and Sustainability in Amsterdam

Beginning our second official excursion, Abby and I arrived at Amsterdam’s Central Station on Friday around noon. Before checking into the hostel, we decided to get some lunch first to fuel up for the day. I had already done some research on being vegetarian in Amsterdam (naturally) and had picked out a café because of its reviews promising good food and an environmentally friendly experience (which are pretty much my two favorite things). It wasn’t in the city center, however, so we had to immediately learn how to navigate the bus system to get there. Fortunately, we figured it out without too many discrepancies. The bus ride was uneventful, except for the familiar feeling of taking the Rutgers bus, which I never thought I would miss.

We arrived in the Northern section of Amsterdam, and found ourselves in a very quiet, residential looking area. It was definitely not where most tourists go to spend their first afternoon. There were no canals in sight, nor cute narrow buildings that look like gingerbread houses. To be honest, it looked like Patterson. But Abby and I marched on, confident that we would end up in the right place. This confidence diminished ever so slightly as we passed by run down buildings, dumps, and vacant auto-shops. We had to be going in the wrong direction. This was Annecy all over again. There’s no way this neighborhood could have a popular café in it. This must be like one of those times where Google maps makes a mistake and tells you to walk into the middle of a lake.

Despite our doubts, we continued on through the gray streets, stepping over broken car parts, and came upon a wrought-iron gate with a sign across the top that said: “De Ceuvel”. The café we were looking for was of the same name, so we figured this was the light at the end of the tunnel.

Upon passing through the gate, however, we were pretty sure we walked right into the heart of Amsterdam’s finest dump. There wasn’t garbage everywhere exactly, but there was tons of scrap metal, pieces of wood, and a suspicious amount of broken canoes. A bit further down on our left, we noticed a shoddy-looking wooden building that said “Ceuvel Café”. Our relief was met with an equal amount of anxiousness, because it was not at all what we had pictured. Why is there a café in the middle of this run-down area? Is this really where we want to be eating? Even though it seemed questionable, we figured that we should give this place a shot since we’d already made it this far. So with hesitant steps, we walked up the homemade stairs to open the rickety wooden door.

Relief swept over us as we were greeted by a friendly young Dutch woman with a brightly patterned jacket, standing behind a stylish, clean, and vintage bar. She directed us to have a seat, and we picked a spot at a wooden table lit by a colorful homemade lamp, next to a comfy couch and wood-burning stove.

Looking around at other content customers, quirky decorations, and comfortable atmosphere, we took a minute to laugh at how ridiculous it felt to have gotten here. We never would have guessed a place like this would be in a spot like this. What a find.

The server then came over to give us a menu in English, which outlined a bit of their story on how the café strives for delicious, healthy and affordable food that is good for the planet:

“We are on a quest to make our restaurant as sustainable as possible. We are building a ‘Blogas Boat’ to digest our kitchen waste into gas for cooking, and the urine nutrients are recaptured for the greenhouse on the roof! The café has been built completely with recycled materials, such as an 80-year-old bollard from the harbor of Amsterdam and a beach pavilion from the beach of Scheveningen. An architectural and upcycled delight from the ‘space componist’ Wouter Valkenier.”

“The pavilion is located on De Ceuvel, a former shipyard that has been transformed into a self-sustaining office park, with old house-boats moved onto the land and equipped with the most sustainable technologies. Plants grow between the houseboats to clean the contaminated soil. This location inspires the café to search for the most sustainable solutions!”

I knew that this place was going to have some sort of commitment to the environment, but I did not imagine it would be to this extent. What struck me the most was when I read that I could order the “Dumpster Dish,” which was “for those who wish to have a delicious but simple lunch or evening meal, whereby we save market vegetables from the dumpster!” I had never heard of anything like this but I absolutely loved it.

After getting over how much I was already swooning over this restaurant, I ordered hot Elderberry tea, for the sole reason that I had no idea that that was a thing. Then I decided on an inexpensive dish with a Dutch name (that I obviously couldn’t understand), but apparently the people at the table next to us were enjoying it, so I figured I’d give it a go.

The tea was exactly what I hoped it would be, warm and fresh and different. And the food did not disappoint. It came as an open-faced sandwich on soft multigrain bread, with some sort of cream sauce, fresh sprouts, thinly sliced cucumbers, and what I came to learn were “croquettes,” which had a crispy crust and a filling that reminded me of perfectly flavored mashed potatoes. I don’t really know what was actually in them but they were super delicious. 

As Abby and I enjoyed our meals, our discussion centered around how great food can be found in unlikely places, and how awesome the world would be if people thought more about how their individual actions (such as going to vegetarian restaurants) are directly effecting the welfare of the planet. 

When we left the café, we explored the De Ceuvel area for a while and realized, as the menu’s description noted, it was entirely devoted to sustainability. We walked along the winding wooden path that weaved through the houseboats, and just like the café, they didn’t look like much from the outside. But taking a look through the open windows revealed stylish offices, each with their own personality and flare. There were also signs scattered around, with descriptions of the different technologies that the businesses were using to achieve completely sustainable and environmentally friendly practices. Reading through them, I was so impressed and in awe over how much effort and passion went into building the Ceuvel pavilion. What we thought was a place where people put garbage and leftover canoes, was actually an impressive community of entrepreneurs who care deeply about the planet-enough that they established their livelihoods on sustaining it.

I’ve known for a while now that I want to work in environmental policy, but this is the real deal. This is how people are making moves for change. I realize this example is on such a small scale, but maybe that’s where it has to come from: a small group of individuals who are aware of how what they do impacts the world around them, and who are motivated enough to do something about it. That’s the difference. Being aware of the problem, and taking action as a result.

Plenty of people are aware of what’s wrong with the world, but do nothing about it because it seems as if there’s no point if only one person does something. But that’s just it. Everyone thinks that way, so nothing changes.

I don’t remember where I heard this, but it keeps coming to my head now: “it’s better to light a single candle than curse the darkness”. It’s easy to say why bother and to complain all day about how dark the circumstances are. Lighting a single candle won’t feel like it’s making a difference, but that candle means something-because maybe someone else with a candle will find you. And that’s how movements begin.




Other trip highlights, as taken from my friend Abby's blog:

• "Waiting two hours in the cold to visit the Anne Frank House. Well worth the wait, but if planned in advance you can get timed tickets. However, we did enjoy chatting with our new friend Kristin, who was on a business trip from Boston."
• "Vondel Park, search for the tree support sculptures."
• "Van Gogh Museum, allow hours to explore and appreciate. It's expensive, but worth it."
• "All the food. We had a No Kebab rule. Everything else we discovered was incredible."

First Excursion: Annecy, France

I have never spent this long in a city for a consecutive period of time. To those of you who have, more power to you. I’d like to know how you do it because it is exhausting. At least for Abby and I it is, because this weekend we decided to plan a spontaneous trip to Annecy, a medium sized town located in the south-east of France, where we could relax, enjoy nature, and see some green for the first time in weeks.

As lovely as that sounds, getting there didn’t end up being as simple and picturesque as we thought it would be.

The running began as we made our way out of our apartment building. We were so excited to have planned this whole trip and be able to start some real exploration that we sprinted with excitement to the metro station down the block, giggling wildly the whole time.

After taking line 4 to Saint-Michel, we had to switch to the RER, which is essentially a larger, faster, pickier, and more confusing metro. All the stops have such similar names that in our rush to be on time, we inevitably got on in the wrong direction. By the time we figured that out and went back to the station we started at, the next train to get to the real train wasn’t for another 28 minutes! This left us super behind schedule, to the point where we would only have 3 minutes upon arrival to the to the gigantic Austerlitz Station, to which we have never been and know nothing about, to catch our train with our nonrefundable tickets. Panic luckily turned into endurance, as we sprinted out of the RER to street level to use that 28 minutes to try to flag down a cab that would take us to the Austerlitz. If anyone was wondering, the red lights on Parisian taxis mean they are full. We learned this pretty quickly, as all of the ones that passed were lit red.

Thus we had to abandon this task to run back to the one from 28 minutes ago that was going in the RIGHT direction. We were losing hope fast but our running was only getting faster and more desperate. Keep in mind, missing this train meant losing over 100 euros of precious train and hostel money, and we were not about to let that happen. That said, we were totally okay with looking like two crazy American girls who had no idea what was going on, alternating between panting, laughing, and shouting directions at each other so we could go on our goddamn vacation already.

By some miracle, the universe aligned and we made it to Austerlitz and found our train in the nick of time. Keeping suit with my naturally late self, I was the last person to set foot on the train. The door literally almost shut on my backpack on the way in. In any case, Abby and I weren’t able to get seats next to each other because it was packed and we didn’t actually know how that worked. So I was in car 19, “couchette” 61. It was like one of those little train rooms from harry potter where you get a private area and the door shuts, except these were stacked with six tiny beds for the overnight train. I’ve never been so grateful for such a tiny bed and an even tinier bottle of water. It’s like they knew about the running.

Now, you’d think my troubles would be over at this point. You caught the train right? Well, as soon as my head hit the pillow it dawned on me that I had no idea how I was going to wake up to get off at the right stop. I am the heaviest sleeper in the world. Do people come around and tell you when the train is stopping? How does everyone else seem so calm about this?? What if Abby doesn’t get off at the right stop? Did she remember how to pronounce it? We didn’t even have French phones to call each other if we accidentally went to Switzerland.

As daunting as this was, I fell asleep quickly from exhaustion. By the time I woke up, everyone in my little cabin was gone. I scrambled to find my black shoes and black socks in the pitch-black room, and tracked down the nearest trainman I could find. He ended up being right outside my door, and probably taking notice of my panic ridden face and disheveled demeanor, asked if I needed help. I managed to spew out some sleepy French to ask him what the next stop was. He replied, Annecy in ten minutes.

Literally what are the odds. Thank you universe. Thank you trainman.

I got off the train, Abby and I met grins, and we telepathically concluded that we had witnessed yet another miracle. We were equally convinced the other would be in Switzerland. After our mini celebration, we headed off with content into the town where we’d be spending our picturesque getaway/countryside extravaganza.

Except that it was dark and rainy and cold. We got lost for a while, and walked passed a scene of the town that we saw on Google images. Apparently, things don’t look as nice in real life as they do on Google. This theme continued as we walked past the mountains that characterize the beauty of Annecy. At least we thought we did. We couldn’t tell because it was so cloudy and hazy. Our little miracles were getting farther away and I was starting to feel like maybe all that running we did may have not been worth it.

Thankfully, we found refuge in a cute breakfast place near an outdoor food market. The croissants and hot chocolate warmed our spirits, and we were able to face the day with more optimism - believing that the haze would clear and we could find proof that we made the right decision to spend our weekend here.

Before long, the sun came out as we made it to the old village, which was lined with medieval-style colorful homes and churches, paved with cobblestone streets, and overlooking breathtaking mountains and rolling green hills. This was it. Everything that had happened to get us to that moment was all worth it. It sounds cheesy I know, but honestly it made me not take any step I took or image I saw for granted. It’s something I can take with my for the rest of this weekend, and really anywhere I set out to go. I guess things are always a bit brighter after thinking several times in a row that all hope is lost and everything is ruined.