n many of the world's great cities, mailboxes outnumber places to get drunk. Not so in Amsterdam. There are a lot of bars here. It is expected that every citizen will at least sometimes get pleasantly tipsy, and that overseas tourists will get fucking hammered and lose their wallets. Beer has been a vital commodity here since at least the 1300s, when a stretch of Oudezijds Voorburgwal was called the "beer quay." And as I study Amsterdam history, much of what has happened here over the centuries strikes me as utterly incomprehensible unless there was alcohol involved. Mankind is primordially insane anyway; we believe easily in irrational things. It stands to reason that for thousands of years we would find one way or another to intoxicate ourselves. Amsterdam welcomes us.
Things are changing now, but many bars still have a house beer — what you get if you simply ask for "a beer." The Dutch call it the pils and the English and Irish call it "the lager." The logo of the house beer usually appears on a sign outside the bar, and this may affect your choice of where to go. I like Amstel, Brandt, Grolsch and Heineken, probably in that order. (Amstel by the way is a real beer here, not even remotely like that "Amstel Light" crap they sell in the States). Less good is Oranjeboom ("oh run ya boam") which is really a shame because it's so much fun to say.
There are more types of beer glasses than would seem necessary. I used to think this was just about size, but I get the impression some people actually care what shape of glass they're drinking from. If you just ask for a pilsje ("pill-sha") you get a little glass of beer about the size of your fist. A fluijte (sounds kinda like "flight-cha") looks almost the same in volume, but it's narrower and taller. Either of these I would dispose of in about 20 seconds, but some people prefer to nurse a tiny beer. The next size up is is actually a reasonable glass of beer, about a half-pint. It's called either a vaasje ("vahsha," a little vase) or an Amsterdammertje, which is also the name of those thigh-high iron bollards lining the streets. A similar-sized glass is called an oortje (little ear), but it has a handle. Then at the grosser end of the scale we have the pint. Not too many Dutch people order a pint, but I like them because they keep me busy for at least ten minutes.
Some visitors, especially the English, are put off by the fact that a Dutch draft beer is poured with more foam on top than they're used to. They pour it a certain way and then swipe the foam flat with a stick before they serve. The foam doesn't bother me cuz I know I'll be having another one in a minute anyway. But a Dutch friend taught me to ask for a pint of pils met zo min mogelijk schuim, which to me sounds like "Can I have a beer with the least possible scum?" Probably a good way to make a bartender think you're a pain in the ass.
For good wine, don't go to a bar, try a supermarket. A typical bar in Amsterdam does not have a variety of wines. You can have white or red, and that's basically it. Wine by the glass is not cheap — I dunno why, maybe wine drinkers are perceived as having an aura of high-maintenance delicacy about them? Oddly enough you can get quite drinkable wines at C1000 or Albert Heijn for four or five euros a bottle. I think it's because France, Italy and Spain aren't all that far away.
It's not weird to order a coffee in a bar here. Even Mulligan's Irish Music Bar has a capuccino machine right next to the dishwasher. One reason Starbucks is slow to take hold here is because you can still get a fairly decent cup of coffee almost anywhere, even at the airport. Expect coffee to be somewhat stronger than in the US, and don't be surprised if they insist on giving you a cookie with it. I often ask for a koffie verkeerd (sounds like "coffee for KEERT") which has milk mixed up in it. Verkeerd means screwed-up or wrong, whereas verkeer means traffic — which I guess says something about traffic in Amsterdam.
As with restaurants, people in bars don't tip very much. Which is cool, I mean after all it's just a beer, right. Bartenders are not expecting a tip, so they won't stand around waiting for you to sort out your change. And Amsterdam bars don't have a built-in channel where you can leave money for them to grab. So the best way is to have a coin ready in your hand when they bring your change, and just swap.
I think it's good to know your bartender's name. To me it just seems the civilized way to do business. The practical drinking advantage is that once the place gets crowded, your bartender is more likely to hear you if you call their name rather than addressing them as "excuse me." On the other hand, the number of bartenders who remember my name is a little scary.
If you hang in enough busy bars, you will eventually meet the "roids-n-roses" guys. There is a squad of men roaming the Amsterdam bars holding a bunch of roses in one hand and a Polaroid camera in the other. When they see some people having a good time, they gently interrupt them to ask if they'd like their picture taken for five euros. The people say no. They squeeze through the crowd all the way to the back of the bar and all the way back out again, almost always without success — then continue on to the next bar. A while later another guy comes along with the same offer. After declining four of them, you really wanna throttle the fifth one: "Dude, no, I still don't want a fucking Polaroid!" To a foreign visitor it may seem a little weird that the bars take a look-the-other-way attitude to this solicitation on premises. But cats and dogs and little kids are allowed in bars too. The roids-n-roses men all use the same model camera and look like they're from the same part of the world. A friend tells me they are all in the employ of one boss, who brings them to Amsterdam on a bus. In an age of pocket digital cameras, nobody really wants itinerant nightlife photographers any more — and because of that futility, they are treated as beggars, ie, left alone. I have a feeling if you were wandering around bars hawking condos in the Riviera you might sooner exhaust your welcome.
A word about nightclub doormen. If you go out to an actual nightclub, like a dance club or someplace with live music, expect to meet a needy doorman on your way out. While most of the hospitality industry does not expect a tip, the nightclub doorman very much does, and will stop you to tell you so. "It's customary to tip the doorman," he'll say, hoping that this explanation of Dutch custom will make him less irritating. Of course you do owe him something; he's the guy who decided you were cool enough (and in some cases non-Moroccan enough) to get in at all. I just wish it were customary to tip the doorman as I enter a place. At four in the morning when a club is evacuating and you're lined up trying to get your coat and hit the streets looking for a cab, you might really wonder why it's taking so fucking long to get out of here. What's happening is that the doorman up ahead is individually regaling every departing patron with his explanation of what's customary, and the unprepared ones are searching their pockets for the right coin. If club doormen reversed this practice and hit people up as they trickle in during the evening, their custom would be less of a nuisance. But then, sober people probably don't tip as well.
My favorite bars. My local is still Mulligan's at Amstel 100, a block from Rembrandtplein. Not because I like Irish music or Irish beer, but just because it's close to home and the people are nice to me there. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't met some of them. Then there's Café de Doelen on Kloveniersburgwal at Staalstraat. There's Schaakcafé het Hok on Leidsekruisstraat, a friendly little chess joint. There's de Groene Olifant in the Dapperbuurt, with its non-ostentatious elegance and killer bitterballen. There's de Koningshut on Spuistraat — a very local kroeg with sand on the floor, whose upper reaches are rich with weirdness, animal heads and hunting horns and dangling steins. There's the Casablanca on the Zeedijk, formerly a crime boss hangout, magnificently cozy and jazzy, with art nouveau lighting fixtures, old bent trumpets stuck to the walls, framed paintings on the ceiling, and occasional big-band performances. There's the Marabela in Weesperplein. And there's de Sluyswacht, a tiny tilted old watch-house by the lock at St Anthoniesbreestraat, with a great view of the Oude Schans waterway. And then of course there are several dozen joints I've only ever been to once, had a great time, and will never see again.
Getting stoned. You can with impunity buy "soft" drugs in Amsterdam, including many varieties of marijuana, hashish and hallucinogenic mushrooms. Shrooms and other mood-altering natural substances are available in places called "smart shops." Weed and hash are available in "coffeeshops." A "bar-coffeeshop" is one that also serves alcohol, so if you're with me, you go there (I don't smoke weed, but I like beer). Other coffeeshops only serve juices or tea, or um, coffee.
Coffeeshops are everywhere, there must be hundreds of em, so it's hard to recommend one. One place I kinda like is The Dolphins on Kerkstraat at Leidsestraat. They serve beer too, and I usually like the music they play. The walls are made up to look like a coral reef, with little nozzles blowing fresh air in, and the hanging lamps over the bar are also goldfish tanks. Another popular place is Dampkring (atmosphere) near Kalverstraat, which also serves good homemade snacks. I think the oldest establishment of them all is Mellow Yellow somewhere along the Amstel. The most commercial and obnoxious place is called The Bulldog.
In my life, a weed smoker is usually a visitor from the US. I lived here eight months before I met a Dutch person who smokes weed. My American friends tell me the pure stuff here is very strong. Two hits and they're pretty much out for the night. So really, my advice is try a little bit, relax for a few minutes and see how 
you feel. That goes double for "space cakes" or any kind of bakery product you eat to get high. You have to plan ahead with those. If you wanna be stoned in about an hour, eat one now. Do not wolf down three or four of them thinking "hmm this isn't working." A 27-year-old friend of mine ate two of those things and came home freaked out, complaining of breathlessness and a racing heartbeat.
I do not mean to sound like I'm down on weed. I'm not. I like stoners. Stoners usually tend to be anti-fascist and a little anarchistic, like me. Stoners traditionally want to make love, not war. I am on their side. The only thing I find pesky is kids from America who tell me "what's wrong with you, not smoking weed? It's legal there man!" Yes, I reply, and eating chicken liver is legal in America, so why aren't you eating chicken liver? Chicken liver is great if you like it. I just don't eat chicken liver and I don't smoke weed. I'm saving it all for you.
Sadly it seems to me that the weed business is under attack by the current center-right Dutch government, with added pressure from both the US and the EU. For one thing, I've read that within the next five years, coffeeshops will be forced to choose which drug to sell, weed or alcohol, but not both. There was also a rather surreal threat that coffeeshops would be forced to become smoke-free working environments. Yeah you heard right — a weed bar where you can buy it, look at it, but not spark it. Is there a Kafka in the house? That threat seems to have receded now into a more distant future, but the low-level harrassment is probably here to stay. The national government, and the Christian Democrats in particular, seem to disapprove of marijuana. They just don't have the balls to come right out and try to prohibit it.
Ecstasy pills are also produced and consumed here, but x is illegal, and some nightclubs have been closed down for permitting traffic in it. The other day I read in the paper that x is declining in popularity now — and that cocaine is coming back into fashion again, just like my old ties.
Another drug that is illegal here, oddly enough, is over-the-counter antihistamines. You can't walk into a pharmacy and buy a box of Sudafed or Drixoral for your post-nasal drip. So if you need them for allergies or colds, make sure to bring some from home. Bring some for me too.
