I had been living in Amsterdam for a couple of years before someone took me to Prinseneiland. Until that moment, I had never noticed it — even though it was so close. That’s the magic of this city: sometimes, the most peaceful and beautiful corners are hidden in plain sight.
Today I returned to Prinseneiland with Gus, who is helping me with the photos for my website. The warmth of the houses, the silence in the air, the cobbled streets — everything made me remember why I fell in love with this place in the first place.
Prinseneiland has a unique story. It was one of three artificial islands built in the seventeenth century, during Amsterdam’s Golden Age, to expand the city’s harbor. The main street is called Bickersgracht, named after Jan Bicker — a powerful merchant who once owned the entire island. You might also see the name 'Reael', another influential family from the same period, who left their mark on this peaceful neighborhood.
I recommend this place to anyone looking to step outside the beaten path. Not for noise or spectacle, but for quiet beauty. Walk slowly, take in the views, and please help keep its peace intact. Prinseneiland is a little sanctuary, and it’s worth preserving that way.
Curious to know more?
Prinseneiland is part of what’s known as the Western Islands, along with Bickerseiland and Realeneiland. These islands were built in the seventeenth century to expand Amsterdam’s harbor.
The name Reael comes from the Reael family, a powerful merchant family during the Dutch Golden Age. One of their most notable members was Laurens Reael, who served as Governor-General of the Dutch East Indies for the VOC. Unlike many of his peers, he was known for his intellect and preference for diplomacy over violence — a rare quality at the time.
You can still find traces of this family in the names of streets and areas, like Reaelstraat and Realeneiland. Once full of warehouses and shipyards, this area has become a quiet residential neighborhood — but its history is still very much alive.
The Bridge of the Three Herrings: A Gateway to Amsterdam’s Salty Past
If you leave Prinseneiland and cross a small, quiet bridge, you might notice the name: Drie Haringenbrug — the Bridge of the Three Herrings. It’s a poetic name for a poetic place. But it’s also a clue to something deeper.
This bridge, once marking the entrance to the Western Islands, takes its name from an old sign or stone carving showing three herrings. It likely belonged to a historic tavern or merchant house — and hints at the role that herring once played in shaping this city.
In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, salted herring was one of the Netherlands’ biggest exports. Thanks to a special technique called haringkaken (gutting and salting the fish right on the boat), Dutch sailors could preserve their catch and sell it far beyond their coasts. Herring became so valuable that some say: “Herring built Holland.”
So next time you walk across this little bridge, think of it not just as a crossing — but as a symbol of Amsterdam’s roots, built on the sea, on trade, and on something as humble as a fish.
And if you happen to spot a herring stand in the city — do try one! It’s not just a snack, it’s a bite of history.
Some great places to taste it:
– Stubbe’s Haring, near Central Station by the Singel canal
– Haring & Zo, in front of the Albert Cuyp Market
– Frens Haringhandel, on Koningsplein
Whether you eat it Dutch-style with onions and pickles, or simply on its own, tasting herring connects you to a tradition that helped Amsterdam grow.
