Amsterdam

The Night Watch in its own cathedral-like hall, Vermeer's quiet rooms, and the best-run big museum in Europe. Book the first slot, walk straight to the Gallery of Honour, then let yourself drift.

The hidden annexe, kept empty as her father asked. You climb behind the bookcase and the war stops being history. Tickets are released six weeks ahead and sell out in hours — set an alarm; there is no queue to chance.

Two hundred paintings tracing one decade-long burn from potato-dark to sunflower-blaze — the most moving single-artist museum anywhere. Timed tickets only; book the same day you book your flight.

Amsterdam was designed to be seen from the water — take the last daylight cruise so the bridges light up mid-trip. Small open boat over glass-roofed barge, every time.

No sight to tick — just the finest wandering in the city. Cross the Brouwersgracht, find a hofje courtyard with its door ajar, follow the flower boxes. Saturday adds the Noordermarkt farmers' market.

Wood-panelled, candle-lit, nicotine-stained-by-history — the Dutch pub perfected. Order a vaasje of beer and an old jenever, let the barman overfill it, and sip the first mouthful hands-free like everyone else.

The city only fully exists by bike. Rent one, do a slow loop — ferries across the IJ, canals at random — and obey exactly two rules: stay out of the tram tracks, and never stop in the bike lane.

A century-old street market a kilometre long — cheese wheels, fabric, fish, and the best cheap lunch crawl in the city. The stalls' shouted Dutch is a dialect of its own.

Fresh off the iron, still warm, syrup molten — a different food from the packet version entirely. The Albert Cuyp stand with the queue is the one; eat it before the caramel sets.

The city's garden — 47 hectares of ponds and lawns where all of Amsterdam turns up the moment the sun does. Picnic supplies from an Albert Heijn, a spot by the rose garden, nowhere to be.

Step through an unmarked door off the busiest shopping street into a silent medieval courtyard — lawn, chapel, and the city's oldest wooden house. Whisper; people live here.

Hollandse nieuwe with onions and pickles, held by the tail or eaten Amsterdam-style in chunks — the national dare that turns out to be delicious. June's new catch is the season; any haringhandel will initiate you.

The free ferry glide across the IJ is a sight in itself; the tower on the far bank adds the map-view of everything you've walked — plus Europe's highest swing, dangling you over the edge if you insist.

A shipyard the artists took over — warehouse-sized murals, a crane you can zip-line from, beach bars in shipping containers. Fifteen free ferry-minutes from Central Station and gloriously unpolished.

The floating flower market on the Singel — half tourist trap, half genuine institution. Skip the fridge magnets, buy certified bulbs to fly home legally, and get your tulip photo against the houseboats.