Hamsterdam

Helga and Herman Hamster want to travel the world and one city in particular is calling their name . . .

Happy May 1st everyone! This month’s B-side Story came from a very special place. The place where most stories come from . . . our dreams. One night, I was dreaming about my travels to Amsterdam, a very beautiful city. My dream took an odd turn, as dreams are wont to do. Suddenly, there were hamsters EVERYWHERE! Hamsters riding bicycles, hamsters eating waffles, and hamsters in house boats! I awoke and began to write, and that was how this story was born . . .

(*Sidenote: This story will include sidenotes, very important additional information from your narrator - me! Also, for this month’s tale, I decided to leave my rhymes behind and write in PROSE.)

Sooooooo, let’s get started and see how it goes.

OOPS! Okay, no more rhymes, I promise . . .

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Hamsterdam

by caitlin nicole evans

Dedicated to Drew, for always believing in my dreams. Happy travels my friend, wherever you may go . . .

Once upon a time . . .

. . . wait a second!

That’s how a story begins when it is a magical fairy tale.

But this story is not a fairy tale, and it is not about magic. This story is about dreams, and how two tiny hamsters made their dreams come true simply by believing they were possible. No magic necessary.

(*Sidenote: Sometimes not ALL your dreams will come true, but it is still pretty fun to dream big dreams anyways . . .)

Now back to the story . . .

Once upon a very ordinary Monday evening there were two hamsters just waking up from their daytime sleep. There names were Helga and Herman, or Mr. and Mrs. Hamster, if you prefer to address them more formally.

Helga and Herman lived in Sam’s bedroom. They liked Sam, even though he was a human. After all, he was the bringer of water, the giver of treats, and the scooper of poop! He kept the sawdust piled high to give Helga and Herman a cozy place to sleep. Sam even bought them a giant red wheel. They would run for hours enjoying the scenery from the bedside window.

Of course, every day for Helga and Herman was Groundhog Day. Which could also be called Hamster Day, because all that it meant was that every day felt exactly the same. The same food. The same wheel. The same scenery. Helga and Herman were happy enough, but sometimes they longed for a little something . . . different.

Fortunately, that evening there was a little something different.

Sam rushed in his room with a large scroll of paper. He unrolled it and pinned it up on the wall opposite Mr. and Mrs. Hamster’s cage. It had simple pictures and squiggly words.

“What is it?” asked Herman, who very tragically had never learned to read.

“Wow,” said Helga. “It’s . . . it’s . . . a mop!”

(*Sidenote: It was NOT a mop. It was in fact a map, but Helga was in desperate need of glasses . . .)

“Ooooh,” said Herman. “A mop! Um, . . . what’s a mop again?”

“Oh, Herman, how I wish you could read.” Clever Helga had learned about geography from the textbooks that Sam left on his bedside table. She knew that a mop showed humans the whole wide world.

She saw Sam’s excitement as he began to pin tiny green flags on all the places he dreamed of visiting. It seemed the itch to travel was contagious, because suddenly Helga was itching for her own adventure.

“It shows you all the countries and cities and islands around the world, Herman. From Hawaii to Japan to Australia!”

In all his excitement, Herman let out a series of small sneezes. It seemed he had caught the travel bug too.

(*Sidenote: The travel bug does NOT make you sneeze. Herman was simply suffering from seasonal allergies.)

“I always wanted to go to Japan,” Herman said. Truthfully, Herman had no idea what Japan was.

They watched Sam pin up a special red flag.

“Home sweet home,” Sam said, then he headed to bed to dream of his own adventures.

“Oh - my - Nutella!” Helga exclaimed in disbelief.

(*Sidenote: Hamsters have a deep, God-like reverence for Nutella.)

“What is it?” Herman asked.

“All this time I had no idea we lived in Canada!” Helga did not like to be wrong.  All these years, she had believed that they lived in China.  After all, that is precisely what was written on their glass cage:

MADE IN CHINA.

“Well,” Herman said, “that explains all the snow outside and all of the maple syrup.”

Sam did eat a lot of syrupy pancakes, and everyone knew that Canada was a very snowy place. Even Herman.

“Holy Hazelnuts!” Helga said.

“What now?” Herman asked. He was also staring at the mop, but he was confused by all the squiggles.

“You will never believe it, Herman. There is a place we must go, ASAP. A place that sounds wonderful. A place that is made just for you and me!”

“Ohhh, is it Paris?” Herman asked, thinking his wife was hinting at having a romantic getaway.

“No,” said Helga. “It’s better than Paris. It’s called . . . Hamsterdam!”

(*Sidenote: If Helga had owned a pair of glasses, she would have realized that Hamsterdam was really Amsterdam. There was no city in Europe calling their names. But, sometimes the best dreams start with our imaginations . . . )

Helga and Herman’s imaginations began to run wild.

They envisioned a city filled with hamsters.

There would be hamster cafes and hamster museums.

There would be a hamster hop-on hop-off bus.

There would even be a giant wheel, like the London Eye, but better.

This was better than Disneyland.

Better than Nutella.

This . . .

                      was . . .

                                        Hamsterdam!

Helga and Herman began to dream about life outside the great glass walls of China. Beyond the snowy, maple-scented landscape of Canada. They began to focus on the mop and envisioned travelling all the way across the Atlantic Ocean.

Until, one ordinary Thursday morning Herman and Helga awoke. They had already made plans for the day.

Spin on the wheel. Eat some pellets. Pee, poop, and maybe hit the wheel one more time before supper.

However, those plans were about to be pushed aside because that day they opened their eyes to somewhere totally new.

All around them there were tall, skinny buildings and wonderful, winding waterways. The river had human houses that floated along the edge, and stone bridges crisscrossed over each canal. Everyone was walking along the cobblestone streets, riding on bikes, and relaxing at cool cafes. Unfortunately, everyone was . . .

HUMAN!!!

There were no hamsters in sight. A few pigeons, a couple rats, but DEFINITELY NO hamsters.

Helga knew they must be in Hamsterdam. After all, they had been dreaming and dreaming and dreaming about this place. Where else could it be?

She decided that hamsters or no hamsters, her and Herman could finally do what they had longed to do ever since the travel itch set in. They could go exploring!

They rented two bicycles from a couple of squirrels and cycled through the pretty streets soaking in the sights.

They rode through Vondelpark, a large airy space filled with lush trees and misty fountains.

They went to the Bloemenmarkt, a marketplace of floating flowers selling lovely colourful tulips.

They checked out the wondrous art inside Van Gogh’s Museum.

At Anne Frank’s House they discovered the heroic life story of a young human girl.

At the Rembrandt House they discovered more mystical art.

Herman began to feel much more knowledgeable. He had never fancied himself clever – not like Mrs. Hamster! – but, suddenly Herman was learning about life through exploring the world around him. The museums, the galleries, even the conversations he had with the local Dutch mice, it was all helping Herman to learn what he had never been able to read in books.

He was surprised, however, that they could not find the history of hamsters in the historical Rijksmuseum. Surely, the national museum of Hamsterdam would mention the hamsters?!?

Herman began to dream that he would go home and finally learn to read. He needed to learn more about his ancestors in Holland.

In the meantime, Helga and Herman still had plenty to explore. They had taken in the sights and sounds, but now it was time to take in the tastes.

Oh . . .the . . . FOOD!

They ate everything they could get their paws on, making reservations at the finest establishments.

(*Sidenote: Hamsters CANNOT make reservations at restaurants. Helga and Herman dined on scraps dropped on the sidewalk and leftovers at café tables. They were very thrifty travelers, indeed! Also, there was one local river rat who had a miniature food stall alongside the canal. He mainly sold patat frites, french fries served in tiny cones slathered in mayonnaise, ketchup, or curry. Since he was a clever rat, he tended to overcharge the tourists . . .)

Helga and Herman loved trying all the local dishes.

There was bitterballen, fancy meatballs served with a dollop of mustard.

They tried plenty of pannekoeken, although it wasn’t the same as the pancakes that Sam usual ate. Those pancakes were fat and fluffy, but these were crispy thin and topped with lemon, sugar, and even cheese. Best of all, there were pannekoeken covered in great goopy gobs of glorious Nutella!

When they tired of pancakes they turned to pancake’s cousin, the waffle.  Particularly, stroopwafels, tiny Dutch doughy discs stuck together with a sweet and sticky caramel glue.

After all those sweets, Helga and Herman needed something salty. Fortunately, there were plenty of salty snacks in Hamsterdam.

There was herring cured in salt, and salted cod fried to a golden crisp. Even the licorice was salty!

Next, they followed their noses toward a strong, pleasant stink. They arrived in a market filled with cheese with wheels even bigger than their red wheel back home.

Helga thought she was in hamster heaven. Herman could not think at all. He was too busy drooling over chunks of cheddar and blocks of brie.  

Oh, the gouda! It was sooooo gooouda!

The edam was e-dam delicious!

Just when they thought they could not take another bite, Helga and Herman came across a brownie left on a plate at a café. Against their better judgement, they both had a few nibbles. At first, they felt very full, but for some odd reason twenty minutes later they had a very strong craving for french fries.

(*Sidenote: There are magical brownies in Hamsterdam and for some bizarre reason after you eat these brownies, they make you even more hungry than before . . .)

Fortunately, with french fries on their mind, Helga and Herman stumbled upon the river rat and his teeny, tiny food stall. They ordered a cone of patat frites with extra mayo for good measure!

Sufficiently stuffed and tired of museums, they decided to shop for souvenirs. Helga looked in a window and spotted a very odd-looking pair of shoes. They were clunky and chunky with pointed toes, painted bright sunny yellow.

The colour reminded Herman of mustard, which made him think of bitterballen, which made him drool all over. Helga was drooling too. She MUST have those shoes!

She dashed inside the store and crawled into the window.

She read the label on the tag. “Klompen,” it said.

“A klomp is the perfect name for these wooden shoes,” Helga said, testing out the clogs.

Klomp, klomp, klomp. Klompity, klomp, klomp, klomp.

Helga finished off her tap dance with a curtsy, and Herman applauded. He was worried the shoes would make an awful lot of noise in their cage back home, but he loved seeing a smile on his wife’s face. Who knew she loved shoes as much as Nutella?! He insisted she bring the souvenir home.

(*Sidenote: Hamsters do NOT have Euros. In fact, they don’t use currency at all. Which did not matter much since the clogs were not really for sale. They were simply in the shop window being worn by a doll used for decoration . . .)

Helga asked the kind, quiet shop lady if she could have the shoes. The woman’s wooden face simply smiled. Helga took the clogs and happily klomped her way out of the store window with her husband Herman in tow.

Outside, it was getting dark.

“I am so sleepy,” Herman said. Shopping had really tuckered him out. “How do we stay awake?”

“I have seen the humans sipping some kind of dark liquid,” Helga had observed. “It seems to perk them right up.”

So, they headed to the closest café and sipped some coffee from cups and saucers left behind. It gave them a jolt of energy and they were able to keep exploring for a little bit longer.

They enjoyed an evening strolling along the star lit canals. It was just like Van Gogh’s Starry Night, which was Herman’s new favourite piece of art. He was a very cultured hamster now, indeed!

Eventually their sugar high dimmed and the caffeine faded, and Helga and Herman decided it was time to go to bed. Or, hit the hay as hamsters like to say.

They found the perfect boutique hamster hotel, with the softest king-sized bed and a skylight that let in the stars.

(*Sidenote: It was NOT a boutique hotel. It was a cardboard box next to a food stall selling fish and chips. The box was filled with scraps of newspaper to serve the cod, but for a hamster a box of newspaper scraps is very swanky. Warm sheets AND an ensuite bathroom . . .)

After a long, luxurious sleep Helga and Herman awoke. Somehow, in the middle of the night, they had been transported back to the confines of their glass cage in Canada.

“Oh no,” said Helga. “Our trip is over!”

Herman yawned, and found himself wishing he had some more of that coffee.

“Well, at least we got to have an amazing adventure!”

Herman was always so optimistic, but Helga was feeling a little bit down. She wanted to keep travelling, but she would try to focus on all the wonderful memories they had made.

Except, were they memories?

Or was it all a dream!?!

 It had definitely felt real.

“Herman, Herman! Who is your favourite artist?” Helga asked, hoping the answer would give her a clue.

“I don’t know,” Herman replied, and Helga started to fear it was all but a dream.

“I can never decide between Rembrandt and Van Gogh,” Herman added, and Helga burst in a smile.

It MUST be real.

She could still smell the tulips, see the buildings, and taste the salt on the licorice. Oh, how she missed Hamsterdam, but Herman it seemed was already on to bigger and better places.

He was studying the mop with extreme concentration.

“Do you want to go on another trip?” Helga asked.

“Sure,” Herman said. “For now, though, I am happy to be home. I would very much like to spend some time learning how to read all those letters!”

(*Sidenote: Herman DID eventually learn to read, and it was his greatest dream come true. He began with the alphabet and when he discovered how to pronounce the letter “A”, Herman came to realize that the mop was actually a map, and Hamsterdam was really called Amsterdam. He decided it was best not to tell Helga. She really didn’t like to be wrong . . .)

For a few weeks following their amazing adventure, Helga still wondered if they had imagined the whole trip. After all, she could not find her new clogs anywhere.

But, she had found a whole new lease on life.

She began to enjoy the comforting taste of their pellets, the familiar view from their window, and listening to Herman every night reading bed time stories.

It really was home sweet home, just like Sam had said.

Helga felt content with the wonders of a whole wide world outside their cage just waiting to be explored. Even if her trip was just a dream!

(*Sidenote: It was NOT a dream. It was real. Maybe this story is a magical fairy tale after all . . .  No, no, no. I’m sure there is some scientific explanation for how two hamsters flew all the way to Amsterdam and how a rat can run his own business. Anyways, Herman eventually found Helga’s clogs buried beneath the sawdust, and they both lived happily ever after.

Oh wait, that’s how magical fairytales end. Let me try that again . . .

They both lived a very fulfilling life.

Sometimes happy.

Sometimes sad.

Sometimes stuck at home.

And, sometimes having wild adventures.

Including a trip for their wedding anniversary

to the REAL Great Wall of China . . . )

The End

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RECOMMENDED READING: This month is all about the importance of reading and the magic of books! How This Book Was Made, by Mac Barnett and Adam Rex, is one of my favourite children’s stories. I had the magical good fortune to stumble upon it in the library one day. It is filled with awesome illustrations in mixed-media and a clever tale about the journey of building a book. Plus, there is a very cool mop . . . I mean MAP. Mostly, I love the moral of this story - a book is only a book when it finally has a reader!

NEW THIS MONTH: If Herman Hamster has taught us anything, it is the magical, wonderful power of learning how to read!

This month, I would like to make one of my own dreams come true and begin to set aside a portion of the proceeds from B-Side Stories to go toward children’s literacy programs.

There are so many wonderful organizations that help to spread the gift of reading. Whether teaching literacy skills or donating books to those in need, these organizations correlate with everything B-Side stands for.

So, for the whole month of May new subscribers will be lending a helping hand to promote children’s literacy. 20% from every new annual subscription will be set aside for County Kids Read. I recently moved to Prince Edward County, so to keep things local I would love to support this program. For more information you can visit their website at www.countykidsread.ca, or send me any questions at caitlinnicoleevans@gmail.com.

As always, thank you so much for reading and sharing B-Side Stories and stay tuned for next month’s edition. If you enjoyed the prose of Hamsterdam, leave a comment so I can continue to write whimsical tales which entertain you and your little ones!