This morning we set off for the Begijnhof, the home from the 15th century to the 20th of a community of Catholic women devoted to good deeds.

I would like to image that Begijnhof is Dutch for Penguin House after the black and white costumes worn by nuns, but alas in the 15th century the penguins were not a common sight on the streets of Amsterdam, and anyway these were not nuns.

There are some interesting decorative details.

The Virgin Mary perches above a cantilevered beam use to hoist furniture into upper floor rooms. Most of the homes in Amsterdam seem to have these. Real estate was taxed by the width of the street frontage, so the buildings are tall and narrow to minimize taxes. This means no grand staircases. The internal stairs are steep and narrow, often requiring a belay on the second landing. So, if you want to get a mattress, a sofa, or a pet elephant above street level, you have to hoist it up the outside of the building. Built in cranes are a standard feature of Amsterdam architecture. OK, focus, Andrew, back to the artwork on the buildings.

I’m guessing this is either St John the Evangelist with his pet eagle (no problem getting those to the second floor), St Francis of Assisi with his pet cockatiel, or St Boris the Hair Twiddler, who was nibbled to death by a budgie.

The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch.

Here we see sinners being pushed into a fiery furnace by an angel who is moonlighting as a demon because demons have more fun. The interesting thing is how smug the sinners look. Not sinners, but stoners, perhaps?

Catholicism was periodically suppressed in the Netherlands, so this chapel had to be turned over to the protestants, complete with the fine carving of St Bunion the Sheep Trampler. In 1654, one of the catholic ladies of the Penguin House, Cornelia Arens, was buried in this church but her corpse was so upset at being laid to rest in a protestant building that she crawled out of the grave, bringing her coffin with her, and set up camp in the gutter outside. She was planted in the church a couple more times but kept turning up in the gutter, so eventually they dug a hole and left her there.

If you think that is unlikely, let’s talk about the Miracle of Amsterdam. The story is depicted in a painting in the catholic church that is now across from the protestant one. Unfortunately you are not allowed to take photos in there, so the photo below simply does not exist.

A devout catholic was on his deathbed and demanded his last rites. This involves eating a piece of bread (usually unleavened and mostly uncooked) which had been magically changed into the body of Jesus. Not unreasonably the dying man choked on the christmeat, and threw it up again. The vomit was thrown on the peat fire, and the next morning the maid discovered that the lump of wet bread surrounded by vomit had not burned. Also the fire had gone out and the bread was cold. Clearly, a peat fire going out when you douse it with vomit had to be a miracle, and the catholics of Amsterdam have been worshiping a piece of regurgitated bread ever since. On the right you can see the lockbox that they would keep it in if it hadn’t long ago been lost, possibly when the church it was in burned down.

On the way to the Penguin House we were distracted by a bulb market.

As well as bulbs you could buy plastic tulips…

… gaily decorated cacti…

… and canned farms for the most important plants in the world…

… marijuana, basil, and Venus Flytraps. A different aspect of Venus is celebrated at Amsterdam’s various sex museums (nice segue Andrew). We went to one with a large collection of vintage pornography, which mainly demonstrates how much pornography has improved recently. Thank you Internet.

The best stuff was the classical Chinese and Japanese prints and carvings. Fans of 淫獣学園 will be happy to know that tentacle porn is nothing new.

This evening we went to a concert in the Royal Concertgebouw building. We skipped the Shostakovich in the main hall, and went to see a band called Congolombia in a smaller room. They are an eleven-piece group playing Congolese/Columbian fusion music. As you would expect it is delightful and exuberant music. I bet the people watching Shostakovich didn’t get to stand up and dance.