Life

Wanderlust in Amsterdam: A Flâneur’s Guide to the City of Canals and Contradictions

European cities beckon to the avid pedestrian. Upon my sojourns in these urban marvels, my initial undertaking involves the acquisition of a one-day or three-day city card, marking the commencement of an illustrious exploration. The tapestry of historical landmarks, encompassing churches, sculptures, squares, and town halls, intricately intertwines with vibrant commercial thoroughfares in the ancient city’s embrace. Traversing the densely populated quarters, one progresses towards the expansive modern cityscape, adorned with museums and cultural bastions, strategically dispersed yet proximate. Be it Berlin’s “Museum Island” or Amsterdam’s “Museumplein,” these cultural citadels await discovery. Following an enriching museum visit, the meandering journey leads to the city’s main river, where one captures the scenic tableau from the bridge, relishing the sunset on a riverside bench. The spectacle unfolds—the laughter of children on the lawn, amorous partners strolling hand in hand, and the rhythmic cadence of runners adorned with headlamps or footlamps. As twilight descends, the path ascends to the city’s commanding heights—Montmartre in Paris, Kalemegdan in Belgrade, and Marjan in Split. The ascent is adorned with culinary delights and taverns, culminating in sparsely populated panoramas illuminated solely by the city’s twinkling lights.

In the city threaded with canals, a mere promenade in Amsterdam transcends epochs, navigating through landscapes that oscillate from antiquity to modernity, from plains to elevations, from vibrancy to serenity. Amsterdam’s average altitude, or rather, depth, at -2 meters, underscores the legacy of canals that once served defensive purposes, evolving into a labyrinthine network for contemporary water management. Despite the city’s perennial allure, the canals bear witness to an occasional tragedy—inebriated souls meeting their watery demise and bicycles finding a watery grave. Unfazed by such occurrences, Amsterdam’s municipal guardians refrain from adding guardrails to the canals. Come rain or shine, citizens linger on the riverbank, feet dangling perilously close to the water—a testament to the city’s breath of unfettered freedom. The central canal waters, though tinged with grime and concealed refuse, embody the paradoxical charm of liberty. Bridges, adorned with bicycles in curious configurations, stand witness to the detritus left by tourists, the sensuous allure of the red-light district’s denizens, and the persistent aroma of tobacco and marijuana, lingering in the air.

The city’s periphery boasts towering edifices, while the narrow canal-fringed lanes accommodate but a solitary vehicle. Sidewalk strolls adjacent to roadways present a challenge, with pairs of pedestrians, walking abreast, impervious to overtaking. Gazing into the windows of diminutive houses along the street may inadvertently lead to collisions with the sturdy barriers demarcating the pedestrian walkway from the vehicular thoroughfare. Yet, within these quaint abodes, floral arrangements grace windowsills, feline companions bask in repose, and establishments brim with charming curiosities, from mouse-themed albums to knitting havens and cheese “factories.” Notable locales such as Nyhavn in Copenhagen and Cinque Terre in Italy, renowned for their kaleidoscopic dwellings, have succumbed to the homogeneity of souvenir shops, usurped by the tourist influx that has supplanted authentic city life. In contrast, Amsterdam’s eclectic establishments, reminiscent of Eminem’s diverse offerings, house a medley of peculiarities, including open displays of adult novelties and concealed thematic museums.

As winter descends upon Amsterdam, the city transforms into a canvas for luminous spectacles, hosted by the municipal government and various institutions. The canals metamorphose into natural galleries, showcasing installation art that blurs the boundaries between reality and illusion. En route along the canal, one encounters lifelike installations—figures poised on bridges, banks, and in the river—each frozen in a perpetual search, akin to individuals engrossed in their quest for a misplaced smartphone. A new addition to the canal’s allure is a series of radiant, retractable chairs, a contemporary ode to interpersonal boundaries—unspoken messages conveyed through their synchronized descent and ascent. Elevating one’s gaze, the venerable church’s aged walls undergo a curious “buffering” process, where a colossal circular icon repeatedly loads, almost supplanting the church’s bell tower with a novel temporal function. The Ship Museum’s facade, bathed in light beams, transforms each window into a flickering candle flame, while the Science Museum projects dynamic human avatars that gyrate endlessly. Emerging from a distant bridge, passers-by find themselves unwitting participants, their movements translated into digital images. Without delving into the nuanced meanings, I permit these installations to guide me through purposeless meandering along the canal’s edge. As I progress, the canal’s periphery unfolds in layers, inevitably leading back to the starting point.

Annually, from December to January, Amsterdam hosts a luminous celebration, casting the canals as a natural exhibition space for installation art. As one traverses the canal’s length, myriad lifelike “figures” grace bridges, banks, and the river, ushering spectators into the realm of the digital. Every facet—river, riverbank, street, and wall—morphs into a radiant “screen” under the luminous display.

Indeed, wandering through Amsterdam is a plunge into the digital realm. Rivers, riverbanks, streets, walls—all spaces transmute into radiant “screens,” suffused with the hues and refractions of light, concealing the binary underpinnings. Amidst this spectacle, the observer is not a passive spectator; rather, one becomes enmeshed, entwined, an integral part of the luminous tapestry. Before venturing into the digital world, one finds oneself already ensconced, a devotee of the radiant authority. In a recent revelation, the 940th anniversary of Su Shi’s sojourn to Chengtian Temple, in search of Zhang Huaimin, dawned upon contemporary cognizance. “Huaimin has not slept yet,” resonates through the ages, evoking the serene moonlit courtyard adorned with algae, water lilies, and shadows of bamboo and cypress—a poetic vista discernible only in the glow of candles and oil lamps. In a contemporary urban milieu saturated with resplendent artificial illumination, the question arises: amidst this intricate web of reflections, can humanity discern its own shadow?

The aesthetics of urban perambulation

Walter Benjamin, while not the inaugural philosopher to delve into the act of traversing urban landscapes, emerges as the vanguard linking the aesthetic engagement of walking to societal metamorphosis. Picture the ancients in contemplation of a work of art, often portraying the visage of a deity—a concentrated indulgence, with a distinct demarcation between the observer and the observed. A cognizance prevails; a person comprehends their identity as distinct from both object and deity. This awareness begets reverence. In the modern era, marked by rampant urban expansion and the ascent of towering structures, Benjamin’s notion of “contemplation” loses its efficacy. Junctions illuminated by neon signs disseminate information, and storefronts brim with a profusion of messages. Gaze upward, downward, left, and right—what unfolds is not solely the concrete expanse but also the densely affixed information. The subway courses through the dark, adorned by luminous billboards. When compelled to bid adieu to “contemplation,” does the absolute distance between humanity and the divine, between self and substance, confront a challenge? In the midst of the myriad marvels that cities proffer, does this signify the initial stride towards materialization? Thus, nonchalance becomes imperative. Confronting the overwhelming and transient deluge of urban impressions, only through nonchalance can one remain immersed without succumbing to engulfment. Thus, promenading assumes the role of self-care, sustaining mental equilibrium, and leisurely strolling emerges as a fitting modus vivendi in contemporary urban landscapes.

Benjamin’s wanderers embody aimlessness, nonchalance, detachment, and an aversion to consumerism. Roaming entails observation and appreciation imbued with aesthetic sensibilities, sans the fetters of possession. The figure of the flâneur crystallizes into a concept within Benjamin’s utopian realm, embodying the collective aspiration to resist alienation, safeguard autonomy, and even achieve self-emancipation. Benjamin, with fervor, envisioned arcades in cities—shelters for urban wanderers, shielding them from the elements and nurturing an enlightening aesthetic experience, thus transmuting more individuals into wanderers. Liberation from the contemplation of corporeal existence and the consumerist descent into materiality becomes the gateway to embracing the wider world.

“We ought to exist with lightness. Lightness is not a veneer; it is the gliding descent from the summits of existence, unburdening the colossal boulders within our hearts.”

Alas, the design and evolution of modern cities, driven by pragmatic considerations like economic prosperity, seamless transportation, and citizen well-being, diverge from this ideal. Envision a typical evening in Amsterdam—the intense flux of impressions that renders continuous cogitation untenable is exacerbated by the concentrated throngs in the city center. Amidst the influx of tourists, a handful of saunterers appear incongruous. In the confined space, each individual can only play the role of a passerby. Many European cities lack the brilliantly illuminated nightlife of domestic metropolises, yet Amsterdam’s Old Town stands as an exception, with the red-light district awakening only as dusk descends. No director calls “action” to commence the spectacle; each participant consciously takes the stage. In the narrow lanes, tourists marvel at the spectacle—bartenders accosted for libations, smokers requesting a light, and the ever-present inebriates along the canal transform the surroundings into a captivating theater, akin to scaling the heights of the Great Wall. Even the most aimless among them are burdened by temporal anxiety. Patrons of sexual services discreetly avoid public exposure, while a horde of tourists casually glance, attempting to distinguish themselves from the “needy clientele.” Some adopt an erect posture, briskly traversing without a glance, asserting that the window displays house not products but living beings adorned in provocative attire, casting affectionate glances at the onlookers.

Not to mention the deluge of raw materials and refuse cast out into modern cities every minute. The lustrous facade eludes close scrutiny, reminiscent of an antiquated television—up close, one might only perceive flickering snowflakes. It is not a distortion of reality but rather an embodiment of appearance as image. Even the perpetual illumination of shops and supermarkets casts a chilly glow on nocturnal pedestrians. The canal’s waters stand as the sole vestige of authenticity. As tourists spill out from Amsterdam’s central train station, they behold a city surrounded by water, yet the aural, olfactory, and gustatory facets elude them—only upon a bench, weary from the journey, may they occasionally discern the murmur of the city in the dead of night.

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