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They should change the spelling of Holland's capital city to Amsterdamn, I mused, a victim of its success.

 We had flown into the award-winning Schiphol Airport in the early evening, from which you can take a train direct to the heart of this vibrant city.

 But old Murphy turned up to lay down his law. The plan had been to check into a comfortable hotel, stroll around the old streets and then have dinner by the side of a canal.

 Instead, two hours after touch-down, we were stranded with two heavy suitcases outside an unmanned railway station on the outskirts of a sleepy town about 40 kilometres north.

 There was no public transport, no taxi rank, and the nearby telephone kiosk only accepted phone cards.

 The Netherlands' tourism organisation, the VVV, has offices throughout the country. At Schiphol, it is open until 10 pm, and one of its main services is to find tourists accommodation for a small fee.

 'Amsterdam is full, totally full. Everything from one star to five stars,' they had told me. Dream on, Hong Kong hoteliers.

 The European Cup final had been held in Amsterdam the night before between Juventus and Real Madrid, and Italian and Spanish soccer fans had stayed on to make a holiday of it.

 So here I was in Heemskerk, two train journeys away, incredibly the nearest place to Amsterdam with accommodation available, booked over the telephone by the VVV.

 When we eventually arrived at the hotel, isolated in its own extensive grounds, we were told the dining room closed at 9 pm. It was 9.02. Could we still get a meal. Sorry. How about a sandwich. Sorry. Are any restaurants open elsewhere. Sorry again. It was a public holiday.

 There was even a wait of 20 minutes to get a beer. The barman was also chief cook and dishwasher. In Holland, people work hard for their money.

 But smile. Say 'Cheese'. Fate is a strange old beast, full of tricks, and had brought us here for a purpose, to introduce us to Alkmaar the following morning.

 Just a couple of stops further up the North Holland line, this is a town of quaint narrow streets overlooking a network of canals that lead to its medieval heart, the main square.

 Here, every Friday since the 1300s, hundreds of fat, round, colourful cheeses have been rolled and stacked on to these cobblestones by farmers, awaiting the appraisal of a bevy of buyers.

 Alkmaar is home to the most famous cheese market in the Netherlands, but it is only open once a week, between 10 am and midday, on Fridays.

 The cheeses don't arrive at the main square by canal-boat anymore, nor the horse-drawn heavy wooden carts with chest-high iron-rimmed wheels that used to clatter through the streets piled high with Edam.

 These days they arrive in heavy goods vehicles, but there the infraction of the ancient tradition ends.

 The auctioning and weigh-in by teams from the Cheese Carriers Guild, dressed in lacquered straw hats and all-white uniforms, and manhandling green, blue, red and yellow barrows, follows a strict, centuries-old code.

 And this draws crowds of locals and overseas visitors so thick that you must arrive early, at least an hour before the auction starts, to command a good viewpoint.

 They are attracted not only by the cheese-market, but the carnival atmosphere that it brings with it, a side-show of market stalls that pack the surrounding streets.

 And just as everything seems to be gathering steam, it is over. The buyers have poked the cheeses, pounded them as a Chinese housewife would when choosing a water melon, and stuck rods in them for core samples.

 By 1 pm they and their cheeses have gone, and the main square has been taken over by parasols as restaurants take advantage of the fine weather.

 The stalls have been dismantled, the crowds have dispersed, and you can wander the narrow old streets with their antique shops at your leisure.

 Holland is the world's biggest cheese producer and exporter, of course. Its flat, peaty soil make it ideal for cattle farming, and the varieties of cheeses available are enormous.

 I would later visit a shop that was stacked from floor to ceiling with cheeses, more than 200 types of Dutch cheese, and a further 200-plus imported varieties.

 Like a good wine, you can buy vintage cheese, and cheeses on the shelf ranged in age from six weeks to nearly five years old.

 Alkmaar's cheese market is held outside what used to be the Chapel of the Holy Ghost, which was built in 1341, and was converted into a Weighing House in 1582 as demand for Dutch cheese continued to grow. Some of the medieval houses even had to be demolished to allow the square to be enlarged.

 The building houses the Dutch Cheese Museum, with an interesting audio-visual show on the cheese industry, from the days when the curding and pressing weredone on tiny farms to today's mass production processes.

 If you want to taste some Dutch cheeses, there are lots of small shops around Alkmaar's main square that offer for around three guilders (about HK$11) a half dozen portions of different varieties, freshly cut.

 At the Friday morning market, you can see the clog-makers at work. Within a few minutes a block of wood is transformed into a traditional Dutch shoe, and it's all done by hand.

 Sizes vary up to a men's 15, which could almost be mistaken for a dug-out canoe.

 But you are hardly likely to see anyone walking around in clogs, apart from the stallholders, and I'd bet they remove them for leather uppers as soon as they shut up shop.

 Some of the clogs on display have been beautifully painted, though, and would make nice souvenirs even if they only ever hang on a living room wall.

 Wandering the market, you must try a Dutch favourite, Poffertjes, round pancake fritters very similar to the ones on sale on the streets of Hong Kong. But in Holland, it's the topping that makes the difference. You can have them drenched in anything from chocolate sauce to rum or whisky.

 After the market closes, take a walk back to the railway station around 10 minutes away, and hire a bicycle to tour the old streets.

 All manned railway stations in Holland hire out bicycles, and Holland is even flatter than those Poffertjes pancakes, so it's fun riding. No need for gears. They even allow passengers to take their own bikes on trains outside the rush hours.

 There are lots of interesting old buildings, including one built in the 16th century which still has a cannonball embedded in its wooden gable.

 The Dutch have a penchant for weird museums, and if you have the time, or the inclination, Alkmaar has its fair share, including the Gaslight, Dutch Stove and Typewriter museums.

 I have to confess I gave them all a miss. I was much more interested in looking around the medieval streets.

 The people are friendly and helpful, though there are a few odd-balls around.

 Like the three teenagers who thought it was a great idea to pour bottles of washing up liquid into a fountain, turning it into a mass of soap-suds, or the man with one leg and purple hair whose T-shirt read: 'Help save the Earth - kill yourself'. Maybe he had tried and failed.

 As I checked in my luggage to leave Amsterdam, my suitcase was overweight, but I was asked if I'd like to take something out and take it as carry on to avoid paying a surcharge.

 The staff waited patiently as I dug into the contents.

 I knew what was causing the problem, that parcel of three kilos of Dutch cheeses.

KLM flies to Amsterdam from Hong Kong five days weekly and a sixth flight is planned.



Say 'Cheese' it's Alkmaar