Ramada Amsterdam Centre...

I ought to say a few words about the hotel, the Ramada Amsterdam Centre, from where I write this blogpost. The words 'Amsterdam Centre' are a bit misleading. In essence, if I was comparing the location with London, this fantastic establishment would be in Croydon or Sutton, but certainly not in the centre of town.

The view from room 514, Ramada Amsterdam Centre

Now I would be foolish to say that it's out on limb because it took me two hours to walk from here to the Novotel and then another hour to reach the very hub of this great European city. For a start there are good rail links into the centre. In that sense, the hotel is 'well connected', but then again, no, it's not well connected. From the nearest Metro station, Postjesweg, it's about a 15-minute walk, if you hoof it, so, arguably my assertion that this place is nowhere near the centre of town is correct.

Other than its location, it's a wonderful hotel. In fact, I have nothing really to moan about. I'm staying in Room 514 on the fifth floor in a spacious room with a decent desk and even a sofa. There are wooden fittings, which conceal a 'wardrobe' - better make that 'space in which to hang stuff' - and there's a decent-sized television, albeit a rather complicated piece of equipment that takes an age to switch off. I resorted to calling reception, as you might have read two posts back. The trick, I was told, was to keep the red button on the remote pressed down for at least 15 to 20 seconds and sure enough it switched itself off. The only other real gripe I have is the WiFi and that's because I have to re-log-in every day. It was fine yesterday, but for some reason today there's been a problem, which only the guy on reception could fix. Still, it's working so all is well.

Inside room 514, ignore my coat on the bed!

The bathroom all works fine too, which is good. The shower is perfect, the sink too, and the view from my hotel window is very pleasant. Sometimes views from hotel windows can be not so good, just take a look at the panel above this post, press 'Hotel Views' and you'll see what I mean.

I forgot to mention the safe. It works fine, just like all hotel safes, so there's nothing to grumble about.

The view from the 17th floor restaurant at breakfast this morning

Fortunately, considering the location, there's a hotel restaurant, and it's located on the 17th floor offering guests panoramic views across the city. There's a central bar, seats surrounding it and tables dotted around the place, all offering decent views (see above).

The food on offer is 'trendy' but very nice. There's a selection of 'signatures' and a note advising you that the staff will be able to offer you their matching skills. This put me off slightly because that fact that matching was involved probably meant small portions, tapas style, so I avoided that part of the menu and went for what seemed to be more traditional. On day one of my stay I enjoyed the trendy F17 burger, an architecturally challenged construction, but very tasty and accompanied by a bowl of chips (as an extra). I started with a brocolli soup and finished with an apple tart and ice cream. I ordered a large bottle of mineral water too and a Solero 'mocktail' and rounded the lot off with a real mint tea, meaning there were mint leaves aplenty in a glass of hot water that remained hot for a considerable time.

On day two I ordered bell pepper soup followed by a mushroom risotto and a couple of Heineken 00 non-alcohol beers. Again, fine, absolutely fine. Similarly, on day three (today, Wednesday) I started with soup (celeriac) and then a Skyburger, which I think included duck liver (possibly foie gras, which I abhor, not just because it means awful things are done to the duck, but also because I spent a few years editing a fine dining magazine and found foie gras on my plate very often, along with the odd King scallop, another comestible I can no longer stomach as a result. I know, I shouldn't be moaning, but there you have it. One thing I discovered today was that the hotel charges 4.50 euros for a bottle of Heineken 00, which is the same price as a 'normal' beer containing alcohol. Something not right about that.

The 17th floor restaurant is trendy and vibrant and always packed. On Monday night I managed to get a table, but since then I've been offered a seat at the bar where it is more likely that you'll end up in conversation with a stranger. Fine, if you don't mind, but irritating if you're comfortable in your own company. I can take it or leave it. I've always been a reasonably sociable person.

Breakfast is also on the 17th floor, but not in the restaurant. The morning offering is good, there's everything you could possibly want and if you're not in a hurry it's worth finding a table where you can admire the view.

Because the hotel is generally very good I can forgive it for being out on a limb and I can quietly forget about the minor wifi problems and the television that takes an age to switch off. It's a great place and I would definitely return.

The check-out was as smooth as the check-in and, as always, I found out that the hotel was more connected than I originally thought, so ignore what I said earlier. The girl on the front desk told me that there was a tram stop behind the hotel (well, I didn't know that!) and I could link with a train to Rai station. She also told me that I could catch a train from Rai to Schipol Airport so rather than leave my case with the concierge, I took it with me and left the hotel without buying a fridge magnet from the shop in the lobby. I'd have to get one somewhere else, probably the airport.

I trundled out of the hotel and headed for the tram stop and soon I was waiting for a train to Rai. Now, I'm working, soon there is lunch and after that I'll be working again, until 1600hrs when I'll head for Schipol airport and a short 40-minute flight home to London Gatwick.

At Heathrow Airport...and then Amsterdam

I'm flying British Airways to Amsterdam and it's only a short flight, something like 40 minutes, but the flight is full and I had to go to the desk close to Gate A10 to secure a seat. I asked for a window, but I've been given seat 8D, which is an aisle seat, and I'm happy with that because it's not a long flight so it doesn't really matter. Had it been a little longer, I would have been happy with an aisle seat, so all is well.

There's not enough time to chill out with a cup of tea and a Millionaire's Shortbread - or something of that ilk - so I thought I'd start blogging early. Normally I can't do this because my old Macbook was, well, old, and it wouldn't have the battery power, but my new Chromebook is a different kettle of fish. The battery's been going since yesterday morning and there's still loads of power left, so I can sit here, at the gate, blogging until the flight is called. I'm now at Gate A2 and the crowds are gathering, not to watch me blogging, I hasten to add, but to get on the plane.

It's currently 1532hrs and outside it's bright and clear skies, a complete contrast to yesterday's drizzly, cold day. And now that I'm sitting here writing, I realise the reason (apart from the poor battery on my Mac) why I don't normally blog prior to arriving at my destination: there's not much to say. The journey here was pretty uneventful and, look, I'd better go as they're boarding the flight, we can continue this conversation later.

Later...
The flight was packed. So packed that there was no room for my suitcase. I stood in the aisle next to seat 8D as I knew there were people destined to sit in seats 8E and 8F. They eventually arrived, but I remained standing, my suitcase on my seat. When the steady stream of passengers filing in to the plane slowed to a trickle, I went in search of a member of the cabin crew to tell him or her there was no room for my suitcase. A male steward moved a few bags around, placing them in other overhead lockers and then invited me to place my case in the vacated space. At last I could take my seat.

The plane trundled out of the gate and made its way to the runway. The pilot said it was excellent flying weather and he was right. I ordered a peppermint tea and a KitKat and shortly after I finished my tea and had read John Simpson's column in High Life (the only piece of writing in the entire magazine worth reading in my opinion) the pilot announced there was 10 minutes until landing. We hit the tarmac with a thud and made our way to the terminal building and then I went in search of the hotel shuttle buses.

Having listened (watched) Will Self giving a lecture at Google HQ on the subject of 'psychogeography' I looked at the taxi rank with suspicion. Taxi drivers, says Will Self, are the arch enemies of the psycho-geographer and I knew what he meant. I was reminded of a quote that appears in Fahrenheit 451, something like "if they give you lined paper, write the other way'. So I waited for the hotel shuttle bus, which rolled up after about 15 minutes of hanging around. I was the only passenger. It didn't take long to reach the hotel, but I was a little concerned that it was closer to the airport than Amsterdam's downtown, where I'm guessing my conference hotel is located.

It's a good hotel - so far. The check-in was quick and friendly, the room is very good: twin bed, flatscreen television on the wall opposite the bed, a desk looking out on the city (I'm on the fifth floor of 18) and there's even a sofa, a safe, a telephone, tea and coffee making facilities and a few magazines, everything you might expect, including a bottle of mineral water. But no minibar. Not that I want one. And no wardrobe either!

Time was moving on and I needed some dinner. The restaurant is on the 17th floor and it offers panoramic views of Amsterdam and an interesting menu. I opted for brocolli soup, an FL17 burger (basically a beefburger with bacon, lettuce, cheese) and an apple pie with ice cream - or rather a kind of 'tart', certainly not a pie. I ordered a bottle of mineral water (sparkling) and a Solero 'mocktail', which was more ice cubes than cocktail. I had a side order of chips and a mayo dip and just sat there, alone, people watching and listening to the loud music that played throughout my time there. Not my kind of music if I'm honest.

I headed back to the room to get my credit card (I wasn't allowed to put the meal 'on the room') and then returned to the 17th floor to pay the bill. Now I'm back in my room, the Brexit documentary is on the television (I can get BBC1 and BBC2 here) and I'm feeling tired. And there's nothing worse than feeling tired and not being able to switch off the television. Yes, there's a big red button and I know it's the power-off button, but it doesn't work so I spent an inordinate amount of time faffing about pressing different buttons and getting nowhere. Eventually I resorted to calling reception. "Press the big red button at the top of the remote," said the guy on the other end of the phone. "Thanks," I said, and hung up. I then spent a good 15 seconds, maybe longer, possibly 20 or even 25 seconds with my finger pressing down the red button before, suddenly, the screen went blank. Now, I can get some sleep. And yes, you're right, I re-logged in just to write five sentences.