Perhaps because I’ve found myself in quite the situation; perhaps because my ditziness is so daft it’s laughable, or perhaps because just days earlier, while discussing similar faux pas unfolding on our eight-day Avalon cruise, Graham dryly said: “It strikes me…”
Long pause while the rest of us lean in to find out what this wise Australian – and gentleman of many respectable years – has to say.
“Most people…
Hanging on every word.
….“Don’t. Effing. Listen.”
He has a point. Because I hadn’t listened.
An 8-metre rainbow-hued Greek god mural stuns at STRAAT. Photo / Anna Sarjeant
It’s the second-to-last day of our round-trip cruise between the Netherlands and Belgium, and there’s been little to no reason to think for myself. Every day my bed is made, bathroom cleaned, every meal is catered for, and save for actually taking my hand, putting me on the right coach, and buckling me in, I’ve been mollycoddled to a point of complete indolence.
Our cruise director, Atilla, oversees all 147 guests aboard the Avalon Impression. Something he does with the amicable ease and patience of an industry stalwart and a parent (we know he has two daughters, such is his open, affable rapport with guests). My suspicions should have been raised while idly daydreaming out of the coach window (the wrong one), watching him swap passenger numbers with the coach driver and tour guide. The latter mouths “eighteen” and his face frowns while cross-referencing a clipboard.
An 8-metre rainbow-hued Greek god mural stuns at STRAAT. Photo / Anna Sarjeant
Still, we are not children, and at the very minimum, he expects his adult passengers to grab the right tour tag – they’re colour-coordinated, which means even my 4-year-old could master it.
But here I am. Hurtling away from the ship on the wrong bus, in the wrong direction.
This particular cruise is part of Avalon’s suite of “Activity and Discovery” itineraries, which combine the languid nature of a river cruise with finely tuned experiences for the active relaxer. These include anything from bike rides across Rotterdam to kayaking Amsterdam’s canals.
Today, I’m supposed to be visiting STRAAT, Amsterdam’s street art and graffiti museum, and better still, partaking in a graffiti workshop. Instead, I’m on the somewhat tamer excursion to discover the city on foot. Avalon offers outings for every interest, pace and energy level, but I’m in the mood for creative vandalism, not a leisurely mooch.
Suited up in overalls, guests try their hand at graffiti. Photo / Anna Sarjeant
Weighing up whether I should miss the graffiti tour or admit my mistake and face embarrassment, the latter prevails. I really want to tag a wall with a spray can. Soon enough, with the help of the guide (and despite the death stares from several delayed group members), I forge a new route across the city – including a 10-minute free ferry – to STRAAT.
Some works glow in the dark, drawn with highlighters. Photo / Anna Sarjeant
I can barely look my new group in the eye when we finally trundle into the museum, but I needn’t have worried; everyone is soon distracted by a 15-metre Greek-inspired god, in all his rainbow, naked glory. If you think that’s impressive (and judging by the countless women jumping in for a selfie, many did), the artwork is housed in a colossal 8000sq m former shipbuilding warehouse. It’s the perfect venue, not solely because it’s large enough to accommodate 150 works of gargantuan art, but because graffiti artists adopted this once-abandoned area well before STRAAT was conceived.
STRAAT fills an 8000sq m former shipbuilding warehouse. Photo / Anna Sarjeant
Boasting all the aesthetics of industrial gentrification, the museum floor still features the original ship-moving crane tracks. It’s awesome in the true sense of the word, and yet its magnificence is overshadowed by paintings of such extreme size, colour and skill that my jaw falls to the floor and joins the track lines.
While a self-guided meander is rewarding in its own right, our visit, courtesy of Avalon, includes a 30-minute guided tour. It’s here we learn about behemoth artworks drawn with nothing but extra-thick highlighters (glow-in-the-dark no less) and controversial additions that dabble with AI. For the most part, however, the artworks showcase pure, unadulterated talent.
In fact, it’s hard to believe street art could ever be conceived as a low-brow art form when looking at a spray-painted Medusa, 3D snakes crawling out of the framework like a living nightmare. I’m even more incredulous when we’re told each artist has just three to six days to complete their piece.
STRAAT’s Medusa mural has snakes crawling in eerie 3D. Photo / Anna Sarjeant
There is one canvas, by Darryl McCray – aka “Cornbread” who’s recognised as a pioneer of modern graffiti, that’s conceivably achieved in such a short timeframe: “I start this shit. 1965.”
Eloquent, if not a little lazy. Which is what we’re all thinking while nodding in appreciation at his masterpiece.
Cornbread’s iconic 1965 tag greets STRAAT’s visitors. Photo / Anna Sarjeant
Thankfully, Mr Cornbread makes it look quite easy, which is reassuring as the group reconvenes for the DIY part of our excursion.
Kitted out with overalls, latex gloves and shoe covers, we’re led outside by Rezer, teacher by day and graffiti artist by night, to a tangle of shipping containers, which, upon being unlocked, fan out to reveal white-washed interior walls; a blank canvas for our creativity to be unleashed.
After a quick lesson on removing and reattaching spray nozzles (and a reminder not to blind one another in the process), Rezer demonstrates a few trade secrets, namely how to achieve clean lines and sharp letters before letting us loose on the walls.
Rezer, teacher by day and artist by night, leads class. Photo / Anna Sarjeant
His advice? Don’t overthink it. Just have fun.
And we do. For 30 minutes, we take to those container walls like a pack of 3-year-olds given fresh Crayolas.
Now, I’m no activist, nor do I yearn to comment on the fragile state of our world, which at the time is wilting in a seven-week European heatwave. I therefore draw from something else I hold dear – my two sons. Initially just my eldest, but with five minutes to spare and favouritism nipping at my conscience, I manage to throw up my youngest too.
The result looks akin to a Banksy paint-by-numbers, but I meet the brief nevertheless; I have fun. A lot of fun, actually. Well worth the earlier embarrassment.
Upon leaving STRAAT, I worry my blunder will make me a laughingstock come happy hour that evening, but this doesn’t transpire.
Fortunately, some poor lad who opted for kayaking steered his vessel straight into a boat and unceremoniously fell out.
Checklist
AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS
GETTING THERE
Fly from Auckland to Amsterdam with one stopover with China Eastern, China Southern, Cathay Pacific, Emirates. Singapore Airlines and Air NZ (some routes are on a codeshare basis).
DETAILS
avalonwaterways.co.nz
The writer travelled courtesy of Avalon Waterways.