Amsterdam: The City That Lured Me In, Then Slowly Lost My Interest

Our Return Journeys collection delves into the delight of revisiting an old travel spot – be it a childhood camping adventure or a defining first work experience overseas.

This week, The Telegraph’s head of fashion Lisa Armstrong returns to Amsterdam. On first trip to the Netherlands, she was barely older than the rowdy Texan high-school students in her care as a tour guide. Returning proved a more refined – but by no means predictable – experience, and a moving one too

I became enamored with Amsterdam When I wasn't able to go, I was 15 years old. My younger sister Katy, who was 13 at the time, took my place. This was typical of the '70s. At least, this is what things were like in our somewhat disorganized household. Our family didn't take vacations together. The nature of my parents' work kept them extremely busy during summer months. As for holidays, they usually arranged for us to attend camps run by schools because summertime was peak season for their business. Plus, everyone thought I would struggle with skiing, so off to the school-arranged cruise we went instead.

All notions of luxury and Jackie Kennedy vanished as soon as our journey began. The SS Uganda was incredibly simple; perhaps they needed to spice things up when, eight years later, she was brought back into service during the Falklands conflict. We were crammed into large sleeping quarters located near the portholes, and the motion sickness was severe. Secure yourselves, the teachers instructed us. It’s part of the learning experience.

I eagerly anticipated exchanging insights with Katy after her cruise two years later. However, we somehow overlooked the signup deadline, which led my guilty mother to encourage Katy to pursue another form of education—whatever interested her most. She decided on Amsterdam. Instantly, I felt envious. I had little knowledge about the city. Yet, canals—who could dislike them? And Anne Frank .

At school, we didn't learn about the Second World War or the Holocaust. Neither my parents nor grandparents ever discussed the latter topic, so I gathered information from various places such as historical novels, modern war documentaries, and eventually during a visit to Dachau.

Katy's visit to Amsterdam took education to an entirely different dimension. She went with a group, staying aboard a houseboat for accommodations. Visiting museums, art galleries, and attending dry historical tours was highly voluntary. The chaperones were scarcely older than teenagers themselves, and cannabis appeared frequently on their agenda. Nobody contacted child protective services after Katy returned and shared her "enlightening" experiences. I doubt my mom even knew about marijuana.

Before turning 21, I visited Amsterdam for the first time. During my college breaks, I managed to secure employment as a tour guide even though I lacked proper training. Wasn't there supposed to be some kind of Trade Descriptions Act back in 1982? The truth is, not only did I have absolutely no professional preparation, but also found myself completely disoriented with virtually no practical experience navigating through foreign cities or having traveled extensively. My knowledge of maps was theoretical at best, and here I was set to lead groups of about forty American high school kids across various destinations without ever setting foot in those places beforehand.

However, I was pursuing a degree in French literature and could utter, “Everywhere I encounter only vulgar flattery, injustice, selfishness, deception, and dishonesty,” in the language of Molière. The tour guide company, which we’ll refer to as Gungho Ltd., deemed me perfectly suited for the role.

Gungho possessed plenty of Cole-style notes intended for guides. As long as you made sure to go through them, you would come across as a blend between Alan Whicker and Mary Beard "When in doubt, smile!" was my guiding principle. Honestly, it (usually) proved effective.

Regarding the participants in these trips, some exhibited behavior that bordered on recklessness and depravity. This observation particularly applied to the staff members, whom we expected to serve as ethical leaders and authorities. At the conclusion of our 'orientation' day held at a questionable hotel in Bayswater, Gungho cheerfully stated, “Ta-ta for now.” He then added, “Should you encounter any issues, our working hours are from 8 AM to 5 PM.”

The main support during my initial visit to Amsterdam was someone we'll call Patrick, a charismatic rebel. Shortly after checking into our modest hotel on a less-than-idyllic side street away from the canals, Patrick decided to take charge of the evening itinerary: should we head to the Rijksmuseum's late-night showing or explore the red-light district instead?

Out of the 40 people who voted, only one chose the museum. We'll call him Alphonse—he had quite an elegant French name even though he came from Texas. He possessed the very first Fendi wallet I'd ever laid eyes on and was the sole child on our tour who, as we cruised along the breathtakingly beautiful Grand Canal in Venice, didn't inquire about the nearest McDonald's location.

Given that it was 1982, getting consent from any of the Texas parents wasn't an option. Besides, Patrick never seemed like someone who would bother with permissions anyway. "Don't fret," he reassured a disappointed Alphonse and me, “this will be educational.” Hadn’t I come across this exact sentiment somewhere else before?

I came across some information lately stating that the red-light district has undergone significant cleanup and sanitation efforts, allowing tourists to stroll through with their young children now. This feels even more disturbing compared to what Patrick did. To clarify, this wasn’t exactly uplifting; rather, it felt quite disheartening and exploitative. The performers engaging in live sexual acts were evidently under the influence of substances that weren’t marijuana—a fact clear even back when I was 21 years old.

While I cannot speak for how it affected everybody else, they all remained unusually silent during our walk back. However, dear, diligent Alphonse—who was just about to come out—and three others managed to climb down the building later that same evening with bedsheets as their rope, disappearing for several hours. It didn't take long before the shredded linens instead of the absent teenagers alerted the hotel staff, pushing them from merely annoyed to outright furious. This incident left a black stain on Gungho Ltd.'s reputation. In subsequent years, whenever I recalled my time in Amsterdam, those memories were clouded by thoughts of seedy activities.

The following visits didn’t match the dramatic events of my first trip, yet they turned out to be much more pleasant. Each stay brought better accommodations than the last. I discovered it was best to steer clear of roads flanked by vendors selling cheap plastic tulips and flashy bars. Once during wintertime, accompanied by an Aussie who had relocated from Australia specifically due to their dislike for warm climates, we found people ice-skating along the canals instead. When summertime rolled around, vibrant red and white blooms cascaded over the edges of window boxes.

I tried out pickled herring breakfasts – which I adore – and visited smoky cannabis cafes (without actually smoking). I shed tears at the Anne Frank Museum, became captivated by Van Gogh’s artwork, and grew fascinated with Dutch Old Masters.

Amsterdam had nearly all the qualities one might desire in a city – majestic, cozy, welcoming, vibrant, spontaneous, and entirely pedestrian-friendly. However, unintentionally, I ceased visiting. Young kids brought an end to short getaways. As they grew older, seaside vacations became more appealing... Both my spouse and I viewed it as a destination suited for backpackers (he had traveled there via train pass) and untroubled twentysomethings.

Earlier this year, I came across Thunderclap by Laura Cumming , an art critic who adores 17th-century Dutch artwork and has a knack for making you feel like you absolutely must see these paintings in person. We opted to take the train all the way up from Bari in southern Italy , where we had been vacationing with friends, traveling through Bologna, Zurich, and Paris... and indeed, the trains still run punctually in Switzerland, unlike elsewhere. As for the cuisine? You'll never grumble over a Great Western Railway sandwich ever again. During numerous trips, all that was available were chips.

We nearly burst out laughing when we finally reached our hotel three hours behind schedule – it was remarkably sophisticated, offering non-stop delectable meals. The Pulitzer at Prinsengracht Canal It was a significant step up from my earlier visits; I half-expected staff to roll out climbing sheets and make a stealthy entrance. I had been told wonderful stories about the comfort, stunning setting, indoor-outdoor bars, Dyson hair dryers, top-notch restaurant, and brand-new spa—but nothing truly prepared me for how quirky and delightful it turned out to be.

Created from 25 historic townhouses dating back to the 17th and 18th centuries, each space offers a distinct experience filled with antiques and vintage items. Our journey began in The Flower Collector’s Suite, an enchanting two-room ode to the city's floral heritage, newly unveiled this year as a reinterpretation of a 19th-century tulip trader’s residence—think pastel-hued sitting area paired with a deep emerald-green bedroom adorned with artwork. Due to their bustling schedule, we relocated after just one evening to another suite situated above a spacious, verdant inner court.

The wealthy merchants responsible for constructing these dazzling seven-story buildings, which evoke familiarity with anyone strolling through Lower Manhattan, would likely endorse the Pulitzer's present form. This representation encapsulates Amsterdam's character: seemingly organized and conventional externally, yet delightfully eccentric internally.

The canals had unexpectedly few visitors. Initially, the seemingly never-ending cobblestone lanes filled with red-brick gabled homes appeared as an ideal example of cohesive city planning. However, despite their outward similarity, every house stands apart from the others. Most have undergone extensive renovations, reaching levels of refinement seen in Architectural Digest magazines, featuring charming cottage gardens planted both inside containers and within the canals themselves. Yet sometimes, you might come across a canal home occupied by squatters and adorned with banners promoting anti-gentrification sentiments ("Up the Revolution").

Some lean so dangerously close, one might think they won’t last much longer here. One could spend their days joyfully navigating the trio of principal waterways which encircle half of the old town center, occasionally stopping at cafes (whether serving cannabis or not — there seems to be notably less marijuana scent in Amsterdam compared to London), and exploring the somewhat askew home decor and clothing boutiques.

Amsterdam boasts numerous chain stores alongside a thriving local design sector. A prime example is Róhe, a young fashion brand only three years old, which is rapidly becoming highly sought-after akin to Sweden's Toteme. Additionally, Ace & Tate for glasses and Wandler for accessories like bags and footwear enjoy global popularity. Don’t miss out on visiting Carmen Amsterdam, an elegant spot combining a café, guesthouse, and boutique known for featuring Dutch products prominently. Should you require some rejuvenation post-exploration, head over to the recently opened Beauty House near Prinzengraft; this place offers personalized massage and facial treatments under the management of The Putlizer group.

You mustn't miss visiting the Rijksmuseum – even with timed entries, it’s still crowded, and if you wish to get closer than 15 feet to the artworks, be prepared for large crowds. The Night Watch You might need to wait until the crowds disperse – or perhaps at the Van Gogh Museum. We utilized the audio tours in both places; they're quite decent and guarantee that you'll catch all the key exhibits.

Even better was the VoiceMap audio walking tour we embarked on through central Amsterdam. We selected one titled Power and Politics This provided us with a 90-minute glimpse into the era when Amsterdam was at the forefront of global affairs. If VoiceMap is unfamiliar to you, I highly recommend downloading their app. It offers over 1,300 tours across 68 nations, ranging in cost from £0 to £16 (you can share this fee among multiple listeners by connecting several pairs of headphones to your device). These audio journeys feature narratives from passionate locals as well as seasoned professionals such as guides, authors, and scholars.

Power and Politics led us through tight alleyways, beside Rembrandt's impressive residence and the headquarters of the Dutch East India Company (the origin of much of Amsterdam's prosperity in the 17th century and its charming-but-troubled architectural legacy), before emerging into its contemporary harbor area.

We had also made reservations – well ahead of time, since you have to do that for everything Amsterdam’s main attractions — A visit to Anne Frank’s House, which has significantly grown since then. The expansion was handled thoughtfully, featuring a superb audio guide along with clips of Miep Gies, one of the individuals who bravely assisted those in hiding, including Anne’s father, Otto Frank. This time around, I realized he passed away just two years prior to my initial trip to Amsterdam.

Though larger today, within the modern glass addition lies the small apartment where the Frank and van Pels families concealed themselves from the Nazis over a span of two years. Accessible through a tight spiral stairway hidden behind a bookshelf, this site has turned into a favored location for taking unauthorized photos despite being explicitly forbidden—a peculiar yet common practice among visitors these days. The courage displayed by those who assisted them is undeniable; their suffering during this ordeal evokes deep sorrow, yet also inspires admiration for humanity’s enduring strength.

Even if you visit only one place in Amsterdam, make sure it’s here; encompassing the darkness, the brightness, the virtues, and the flaws.

The cost of a standard room at the Pulitzer begins at £412 per night. The price for the Flower Collector’s Suite starts from £850. For additional details, please visit pulitzeramsterdam.com

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