The Dutch Cap

A couple of years ago I went to Amsterdam in search of the stations on this map.

Those coloured lines form the five lines of the Amsterdam Metro, and I trekked all over the city and visited them all.  It was great fun, and started a trend of me going to a foreign city and collecting their Metro lines.  Good, wholesome entertainment.

While I was there, I noticed that, in addition to the lines on the Metro, there were three heavy rail stations on the map as well: Muiderpoort, Science Park and Diemen.  Wouldn't it be fun to visit those as well? 

Best laid plans and all that.  While Muiderpoort was delightful, and I enjoyed wandering round the charming neighbourhood nearby, when I got to Science Park I discovered that there was a problem with the overhead wires; all the trains were cancelled.  I turned round, dejected, and went to get a tram back to the hotel.

All of you who were bored by this story the first time round are probably wondering why you're getting a recap.  The reason is, the BF.  He got an urge about a month ago to go away.  We deserved it, he said.  A little city break somewhere.  A treat.  What about Amsterdam...?

YES, I said, a little too quickly.

I'd like to add I had a thoroughly nice time in Amsterdam, wandering the streets, eating, drinking.  It was all lovely and I didn't force the BF to go on the Metro too many times.  (We were staying near to Rokin station - sometimes it simply made more sense!).  However, I did suggest that on the Sunday morning, while he had a nice lie in, I'd go for a little walk.  A little walk between stations.

As you'd expect for a station with that name, designed to spearhead regeneration efforts, a lot of money has gone into making Science Park look a bit funky.  It's cool and curved, because hey, this is a modern station, dude, yeah? 

I sound cynical, and, in truth, the design elements are merely some curved walls and a bit of glass.  However, when you see what a new station looks like in the UK, you actually appreciate the effort.  Someone tried here and that's to be commended.

So now here I was, back on the Kruislaan, back walking between some Dutch railway stations, only this time in the opposite direction.  It was actually nice to be back here because this is also where I was radicalised.  I'd always been a fan of urbanism - making cities nice with more people and trees and transport and things - but it was looking at this particular apartment block on Kruislaan that pushed me into evangelism.   

It was the one that made me think, why can't we do that in the UK?  Long rows of balconies and pleasing spaces.  Terraces, in fact, stretching the length of the home.  When I'd been here in 2023 I'd seen a woman reading a book on one of the balconies, and her young daughter had wandered out from a different door and come over to see her and it seemed so nice.  Big windows looking out on a tree-lined road with dedicated, separated cycle lanes and good quality pavements.

Why can't we do this in the UK?  Why do we always have to build miserable boxes, miserable shells, with no features?  Why are we building plain roads without infrastructure on them?  Why aren't we making life nice for people?  I'm tempted to enter the EuroMillions because if I had £197 million I'd absolutely spend it building some good homes for people to live in rather than whatever cube of nothingness gets chucked up in an field without any buses.

Fizzing with anger and frustration again I turned off the main road and into the sportspark.  Laid out here was everything for the active residents of Amsterdam, and I walked amongst their healthy souls, sweating fatly.  Kids played Sunday league football, their dads yelling louder than they ever could.  The thwack of tennis balls matched my step.  Through the trees I caught glimpses of a running track and joggers and cyclists were everywhere.

The southern edge of the park used to be home to De Meer, Ajax's home ground, until they moved to the much larger Johan Cruijff Arena in the 90s.  The land was sold off and turned into apartment blocks, with the streets named after great stadia that were home to significant matches: there's a Wembleylaan, and an Anfieldroad, which I regret not detouring for a look at now.

The end of the park was marked by a motorway, currently in the middle of a comprehensive resurfacing which had completely closed one lane.  A woman with a little spaniel called vaguely for him to come back to her as he darted back and forth over the bridge, excited to be out. 

I was dropped into the district of Diemen, behind more apartment blocks and on wide streets.  People were out walking, enjoying the unusually warm September morning, and the stream of cyclists was neverending.  On a balcony, a woman was hanging out washing to dry.  Cars crept around at 20 - that's 20 kilometres an hour, not miles, and nobody seemed to be bothered.

The area had obviously been done up lately.  Street furniture had been put in everywhere, benches and boulders that blocked pedestrian paths to road vehicles but also gave people somewhere to sit and rest.  These are, again, things that would never be introduced to a residential area in the UK because they would be presumed to be a magnet for anti social behaviour i.e. some teenagers might sit on the bench on a Friday night and giggle.  Instead British children stay inside on their phones, and apparently this is also a problem, because basically we hate children. 

There was a shopping centre here and I nipped in for a look round.  It had the vague smell of ham you always get in down-at-heel malls.  I'm not sure what causes it but no matter where you go in the world, if you go to an indoor precinct in the suburbs there will be a definite whiff of expired meat.  I've experienced it all over Europe now.  

Half the units were empty, and those that were full were closed, it being a Sunday morning and everything.  The only two stores that were open were the Albert Heijn supermarket (which I pronounce "Albert Hiney", because I'm hilarious and not annoying at all), and a flower shop called Bloem!.  There's something about that exclamation mark I really enjoy.   

I wandered back out of the shopping centre with a Coke Zero to try and offset the heat.  It really was incredibly warm for this time of year; lovely if you're a tourist, a wee bit worrying if you're a Dutchman living in a city that's roughly three metres below sea level.

Diemen station used to be next to a level crossing, a significant pinch point for traffic and railway movements on a busy line to Amsterdam Centraal.  A few years ago the city bit the bullet and eliminated the level crossing by building a tunnel under the railway line for traffic. 

It's such an enormous construction that your heart sighs.  Level crossings are a pain in the backside for everyone in the 21st century, and getting rid of them is the ideal.  However, when you see the engineering needed to implement it, you understand why they persist.  There's no way of eliminating the level crossing that closes the road through Birkdale eight times an hour without an engineering project of gargantuan proportions.

Diemen station was rebuilt at the same time but it's no looker.  Having spent all their cash on the road tunnel clearly the city planners decided two platforms and some ticket machines was all the railway could get.  They do have ticket barriers, of course, even though it's unstaffed; I'm not sure why the UK demands a person stands next to the barriers at all times watching people waft in and out when the Netherlands seems perfectly capable of using them without getting trapped.

They also skimped on the signs.  There wasn't a single Diemen sign outside the station that I could see, meaning I had to settle for the platform sign.  It didn't matter.  I was in a wonderful city and I had finally crossed off every station on their metro map.  I was content.