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Percona Live wrapped in Amsterdam on a Friday afternoon, and twelve of us were not ready to fly home yet. So we did not. We checked into NH Amsterdam Noord at three, dropped the laptops, and by seven were at a shared table for thirteen at De Goudfazant, modern Mediterranean built into a converted garage on Aambeeldstraat. Forty-eight hours ahead of us: e-bikes, a guided sauna, and one unplanned swim in the Amstel.
Saturday started at 09:30: a private guide, twelve e-bikes, and the North Holland Canal pointing us into the polder villages of Waterland. Thirty to thirty-five kilometers, flat the whole way, back at the hotel by three. The forecast had promised the usual Dutch coin flip. It came up sun for almost the entire weekend, which nobody had planned for and everybody was quietly suspicious of.
First stop, a working windmill, blades still turning over a canal-side barn.
Then the cheese farm and the clog workshop — aged Gouda tasting, clogs carved by hand, and a wooden clog built at a scale meant for photos, not feet.
One village had a farm stand out on the honor system — apples, dahlias, a cash box nobody was watching. Half the group cleaned it out.
The countryside does the calming without trying. Grazing land, canals, the odd cyclist overtaking a group of tech founders at speed.
What we didn’t expect was the geography lesson: several farms along the route were flying their Dutch flag upside down. Our guide explained it — an old distress signal Dutch farmers revived a few years back, protesting nitrogen emissions rules that threaten to shrink or shut down their land. Nobody in the group had a strong opinion on Dutch agricultural policy by breakfast. Everybody had one by Monnickendam.
Free time ran three to six: STRAAT Museum, EYE, De Ceuvel, the Mosveld Market, depending who you asked. Then at six, Badhus, on the water at De Ceuvel, for a guided Aufguss with a cold plunge. None of us had done a sauna run like a set before — heat, meditation, techno, repeat. Katrina ran it. It was, by consensus, hot as hell. Also, apparently, the point.
Dinner after, at Pllek on the NDSM wharf, was the quiet kind of loud that comes after everyone has just been in a sauna together.
Two dinners, two former shipyards. De Goudfazant on Friday, Pllek on Saturday, both built large and open instead of dressed up, both leaning on the industrial bones instead of hiding them. Amsterdam Noord does not pretend to be the postcard side of the city, and the restaurants do not either.
Sunday was the send-off: 08:30, guided SUP and kayak on the Amstel, longjohn wetsuits provided, beginner-friendly by design.
It stayed beginner-friendly for most of the group.
A few didn’t stay upright, and ended up swimming the canal rather than paddling it — not part of the guide’s script, and not something a photo survives to prove. Lunch followed at Café Hesp, on the river, last meal together before flights home around three.
To whoever went in: hope you dried out fine, and that your Monday recovery was less eventful than your Sunday.
We send something when there's something to send. Upcoming climbs, open spots, and the odd story worth your time.
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