I squinted watery-eyed at Leidseplein as jets of rain slapped my face. One moment I was an awestruck tourist gazing at narrow shop-filled streets of Amsterdam. Another, I was a hyper-alert bicyclist trying to maneuver against the combined forces of trams, buses, bicycles and the slow-moving masses of tourists. The downpour couldn’t dampen my acrobatic spirit. I expertly signaled with a hand and balanced the bicycle with the other, drinking in the canal-filled streets unfurling as I turned, all the while shoving the poncho away from my eyes vigourously. Every bit of me shivered with excitement as waves of thrill descended down my back, along with rain water.  Our tour group of amateur bicyclists rode in a single line. My husband was a blue blur a little ahead.  Perhaps this is the best way experience Amsterdam, a city where it rains nearly two hundred days a year and swarms of bicyclists routinely zoom past on bike lanes more than half a road wide.

Amsterdam’s semi-circular canals flow noiselessly along quaint old buildings and tree lined streets, abruptly crisscrossing narrow lanes stacked with shops and restaurants. A fleet of house-boats docked on either side of the canals is as much an indicator of unaffordable housing in an expanding city, as a pretty sight with floating flower markets and shimmering reflections of lights abound. As one crawls one’s way out of Jordaan’s nine little streets selling all things necessary, all things fashionable and all things absurd, the floating neighbourhoods and picturesque bridges appear enticingly to a distracted shopper !