Day 353 –Amsterdam, Netherlands (by Pam)
Posted by Pam Taylor on Thursday, June 23, 2011
The Events of Monday, June 13, 2011
Today was a great day…in the end. It just didn’t get off to a very auspicious start. When Jim pulled back the curtains in our hostel dormitory, it was raining, and hard. As tour guide for the Netherlands, I watched in dismay as the rain threatened to wash away my plans for the day. Praying that it would let up and perhaps clear, we went through our morning routine. Breakfast, however, was slightly different, as it was provided by the hostel. At eight, we went downstairs to the dining room. It was already full and bustling with what appeared to us to be a tour group of German high school students. The buffet offered some familiar fare – hard boiled eggs, cereal, milk, orange juice, apple juice, bread, and a variety of jams. It also offered a variety of sliced meats and cheeses, plain unsweetened yogurt and a variety of specialty breads. There were also bowls of jimmies – candied sprinkles in chocolate brown, as well as pink, orange and yellow. We never did find out how these were to be used.
The rain let up as the morning progressed, and a check of the weather looked promising: only a 20% chance precipitation for the rest of the day. The hostel offers discount tickets on the Amsterdam canal boats we were planning on using, so we purchased those. Then we asked the big question: “How do we get to Amsterdam?” We were looking for efficient and inexpensive, with easy to follow directions. We were given two options – bus or train. They cost about the same. The train was slightly cheaper, so we headed for the station.
It took a bit of GPS and map work to figure out where to go. Our path was to run along a canal and across some fields, and, being a footpath, the GPS was of little help. Then Ben spied a bike path going under the nearby roadway and we were on our way. It was a pleasant walk, despite the occasional mist/drizzle. Soon, we arrived at the train station and started to figure out the ticket machine. However, immediately we ran into problems. Six roundtrip tickets were going to cost around €36, and the machine did not accept our credit card. Nor would it accept any bills – only coins. Well, we had some coinage, but as Ben said later, “Who goes around carrying €36 of coins in their pockets? It would pull down your pants‼” The train station was deserted, and in the middle of nowhere, so our only option was to walk back to the hostel and take the bus.
The bus was pulling away just as we arrived at the bus stop. Since today was a bank holiday (another one‼) the buses were running on a holiday schedule, and the next one wouldn’t come for half an hour. We finally decided to drive into the Haarlem train station, park, and catch the train to Amsterdam. And that is what we did. After a short fifteen-minute train ride we were in Amsterdam. After a little wait, we purchased day passes for the city’s trams and were ready to go. Finally, we could get started on our day‼
Ben is really enjoying figuring out all these different public transportation systems. He and Caitlin partnered up, he with the map and she with the GPS, and figured out which tram and which direction and which stop and then where to go from there. We arrived just in time for the noon Blue Boat Canal tour. For the next 75 minutes we enjoyed seeing Amsterdam by canal boat, a very different perspective. Amsterdam boasts over 1,300 bridges, and we passed under many of them. Ben traced our route on the map and especially enjoyed when the canal boat had to negotiate a turn.
Given the time, we lunched as we toured. The commentary came in four languages. First, we heard Dutch, and that gave us the heads-up that the English portion would be next. Then came the German spiel, during which Ben enjoyed picking out words he could recognize. The French portion followed next, which Lindsey tried to decipher. The architecture of Amsterdam is amazing, and the houseboats on the canals look like floating flower gardens. Abby managed to snap the shot of seven bridges all lined up in a row, with a boat passing through them.
An earlier version of my plan for the day had us eating lunch in the lovely Vogel Park. However, since the weather and the timing didn’t cooperate, we just crossed into the entrance of the park. After reading a few placards and taking a few pictures, we caught the tram to the Verzetsmuseum, the Dutch Resistance Museum. Several of our destinations in Holland have to do with WWII, specifically the Anne Frank House, where she hid during the German occupation of Holland, and the Ten Boom house, where the family members hid Jews. So visiting the Dutch Resistance Museum fit in well with these themes.
The Verzetsmuseum is laid out very nicely. We started with an introductory film, in Dutch with English subtitles. In the movie, we were challenged to think about what we would do in similar circumstances to that of the occupied Dutch. Would we cooperate, adjust or resist? The museum told the stories of dozens who had made one of those three choices. We were led through a maze of different exhibits, starting with the state of the Netherlands in the 1930s and continuing along a timeline of the war. Additional exhibits branched off the main artery, providing more in-depth explanations. One exhibit was particularly amusing. Since the war devastated the Netherlands and most of Europe, they had to make do with what was on hand. The exhibit showed new uses for German soldier helmets – one had been converted into a strainer, and another into a chamber pot.
Another branch educated us about the Dutch men, women and children held prisoner by the Japanese in the Dutch East Indies, what we know as Indonesia today. This was particularly poignant, as our hostess in New York, Gretchen Janssen’s Dutch husband and in-laws were also imprisoned during the war by the Japanese. When we visited her, Abby helped her clean out a bookshelf, and they found a journal kept of their prison experiences.
Perhaps most enjoyable for me and the girls were the temporary exhibits, especially one that had just opened a few days before – “A Stitch a Day – Embroidering in Prison, 1940-1945”. This exhibit showed how imprisoned women recorded their experiences and kept their sanity by embroidering with whatever thread they could find. The detail and miniscule stitching was incredible. At the end of the exhibit was a “Victory Skirt”. These skirts were made from scraps of material that held special meaning to the creator about the war years. The idea caught on, and hundreds of women created these skirts and wore them in liberation celebrations.
Finished here, we caught the tram to Dam Square, the center of Amsterdam. As we viewed the palace and the other buildings that surround the square, I finally put words to a feeling I had all day. I realized that I didn’t particularly like Amsterdam. Where Lisbon reminded me of all the things I love about San Francisco, Amsterdam reminds me of all the things I don’t like about San Francisco. The streets were busy, dirty; the buildings were worn down. Even in the canals, Amsterdam looked dirty and worn out. The water was brown and filled with trash, and the houseboats on the canal were old, decrepit and desperately in need of a new coat of paint. It just seemed that, in all the hustle and bustle, the inhabitants of Amsterdam forgot to take care of their city. It was sad, really, because I could barely make out the beauty of the city under all the grime and dirt.
We made our way to dinner, purposely heading down some pedestrian lanes to get lost and see more of Amsterdam. That certainly happened as we found ourselves on one of the busiest shopping streets on the city. However, we could have been anywhere, as we passed a McDonalds, a Starbucks and a Claire’s. Not enjoying the crowds, we ducked down a side street, and then crossed canal after canal on our way to dinner. When we arrived at the Pancake Bakery, we were surprised to see a line out the door. After all, it was only 5 pm. I had done my research. To avoid waiting in a long line at the Anne Frank House, it was suggested that we arrive after 6 pm (the museum doesn’t close until nine.) So our plan was to have an early dinner and then go to see Anne Frank’s Secret Annex. Given the crowd, I wondered if too many others had done the same research and come to the same conclusion.
Our meal at the Pancake Bakery was an interesting experience. First of all, we were having pancakes for dinner. Secondly, our party was split between two tables, kids at one, and parents at the other. And thirdly, the menu specified that the restaurant did not serve tap water. All drinks were to be purchased. The traditional pancakes came in two types, savory and sweet. We decided to order three savory and three sweet and have dinner and “dessert” at the same time. After some deliberation, the final decision was to order bacon and apple, chicken and cheese, and cheese and pineapple for our savories, and cherries, peaches, and apple and raisin for our sweet choices. The pancakes arrived like giant pizzas with the ingredients either baked within or on top. On the table were a variety of syrups – caramel, “original” or maple. The best translation our waitress could give us of what “original” was -- was sugar. A can of powdered sugar also graced each table. When the pancakes arrived they were cut into sixths and passed along after a sixth was eaten. My favorite was the bacon and apple but Abby found the pineapple and cheese particularly disgusting. We pulled out our water bottles for hydration during the meal and were surprised when the waitress came and told us that providing our own drinks was not permitted. In all Rick Steves podcasts he extolled the Dutch people’s tolerance – “Live and let live” policy – basically you can do whatever you wish, as long as you are not bothering someone else. Guess that tolerance doesn’t extend to water.
Finishing up, we headed a block down the street to the Anne Frank House. I was particularly excited about this excursion. I read the Diary of Anne Frank to each of my children and when we finished reading, each asked me, “Can we visit her hiding place during our year trip?” And to each child I made the promise that we would. And now that moment had come. As we neared the house, my heart sank. There was a line out the door. Not only was today a bank holiday, but it seemed obvious that others had read the same tip. I gave our gang the option of returning another day, but they wanted to take their chances. The wait was much shorter than I anticipated and soon we were inside.
Again the exhibit was well done. The path wound through the warehouse and annex, room by room. In each room were quotations from Anne’s diary painted on the wall, various artifacts and pictures. We each carried a booklet full of commentary in English that also explained where we were and what we were seeing. Several of the rooms were showing short video clips of interviews and scenes of the day. The line moved through slowly as there wasn’t much room and there was a lot to read. The rooms were dimly lit and again, the English translation of the information about the artifacts was a font size smaller than the Dutch. I didn’t need reading glasses before this trip, but reading all this small font in low lighting is definitely having an impact on my eyes. At the end of the tour was an interesting room, with video screens on each of the walls. In the middle were “voting posts”. A scenario would play about rights, free speech, etc., and then a question would be posed and the audience could vote by pushing the + or – button on the post. The votes were quickly tabulated and the results published. Then the next scenario began to play. Topics covered were about whether freedom of speech on Facebook extended to those who claim the Holocaust never happened and whether a school ban on head scarves is discriminatory or not - all good food for thought.
It was nine o’clock before we finally left the Anne Frank House. Ben led us to the correct tram stop and soon we were arriving at the train station. We caught the train back to Haarlem and enjoyed riding the oldest train line in the Netherlands – the same train line that Corrie Ten Boom used to travel with her father when they traveled from Haarlem to Amsterdam to get the correct time for the watches in his watch shop. From the train window we saw the acres and acres of reclaimed land where green pastures now stand where once the sea dominated. We were tired, but as the sun began to set on this beautiful land, we were able to count today as a good day in the end.
Today was a great day…in the end. It just didn’t get off to a very auspicious start. When Jim pulled back the curtains in our hostel dormitory, it was raining, and hard. As tour guide for the Netherlands, I watched in dismay as the rain threatened to wash away my plans for the day. Praying that it would let up and perhaps clear, we went through our morning routine. Breakfast, however, was slightly different, as it was provided by the hostel. At eight, we went downstairs to the dining room. It was already full and bustling with what appeared to us to be a tour group of German high school students. The buffet offered some familiar fare – hard boiled eggs, cereal, milk, orange juice, apple juice, bread, and a variety of jams. It also offered a variety of sliced meats and cheeses, plain unsweetened yogurt and a variety of specialty breads. There were also bowls of jimmies – candied sprinkles in chocolate brown, as well as pink, orange and yellow. We never did find out how these were to be used.
The rain let up as the morning progressed, and a check of the weather looked promising: only a 20% chance precipitation for the rest of the day. The hostel offers discount tickets on the Amsterdam canal boats we were planning on using, so we purchased those. Then we asked the big question: “How do we get to Amsterdam?” We were looking for efficient and inexpensive, with easy to follow directions. We were given two options – bus or train. They cost about the same. The train was slightly cheaper, so we headed for the station.
It took a bit of GPS and map work to figure out where to go. Our path was to run along a canal and across some fields, and, being a footpath, the GPS was of little help. Then Ben spied a bike path going under the nearby roadway and we were on our way. It was a pleasant walk, despite the occasional mist/drizzle. Soon, we arrived at the train station and started to figure out the ticket machine. However, immediately we ran into problems. Six roundtrip tickets were going to cost around €36, and the machine did not accept our credit card. Nor would it accept any bills – only coins. Well, we had some coinage, but as Ben said later, “Who goes around carrying €36 of coins in their pockets? It would pull down your pants‼” The train station was deserted, and in the middle of nowhere, so our only option was to walk back to the hostel and take the bus.
The bus was pulling away just as we arrived at the bus stop. Since today was a bank holiday (another one‼) the buses were running on a holiday schedule, and the next one wouldn’t come for half an hour. We finally decided to drive into the Haarlem train station, park, and catch the train to Amsterdam. And that is what we did. After a short fifteen-minute train ride we were in Amsterdam. After a little wait, we purchased day passes for the city’s trams and were ready to go. Finally, we could get started on our day‼
Ben is really enjoying figuring out all these different public transportation systems. He and Caitlin partnered up, he with the map and she with the GPS, and figured out which tram and which direction and which stop and then where to go from there. We arrived just in time for the noon Blue Boat Canal tour. For the next 75 minutes we enjoyed seeing Amsterdam by canal boat, a very different perspective. Amsterdam boasts over 1,300 bridges, and we passed under many of them. Ben traced our route on the map and especially enjoyed when the canal boat had to negotiate a turn.
Given the time, we lunched as we toured. The commentary came in four languages. First, we heard Dutch, and that gave us the heads-up that the English portion would be next. Then came the German spiel, during which Ben enjoyed picking out words he could recognize. The French portion followed next, which Lindsey tried to decipher. The architecture of Amsterdam is amazing, and the houseboats on the canals look like floating flower gardens. Abby managed to snap the shot of seven bridges all lined up in a row, with a boat passing through them.
An earlier version of my plan for the day had us eating lunch in the lovely Vogel Park. However, since the weather and the timing didn’t cooperate, we just crossed into the entrance of the park. After reading a few placards and taking a few pictures, we caught the tram to the Verzetsmuseum, the Dutch Resistance Museum. Several of our destinations in Holland have to do with WWII, specifically the Anne Frank House, where she hid during the German occupation of Holland, and the Ten Boom house, where the family members hid Jews. So visiting the Dutch Resistance Museum fit in well with these themes.
The Verzetsmuseum is laid out very nicely. We started with an introductory film, in Dutch with English subtitles. In the movie, we were challenged to think about what we would do in similar circumstances to that of the occupied Dutch. Would we cooperate, adjust or resist? The museum told the stories of dozens who had made one of those three choices. We were led through a maze of different exhibits, starting with the state of the Netherlands in the 1930s and continuing along a timeline of the war. Additional exhibits branched off the main artery, providing more in-depth explanations. One exhibit was particularly amusing. Since the war devastated the Netherlands and most of Europe, they had to make do with what was on hand. The exhibit showed new uses for German soldier helmets – one had been converted into a strainer, and another into a chamber pot.
Another branch educated us about the Dutch men, women and children held prisoner by the Japanese in the Dutch East Indies, what we know as Indonesia today. This was particularly poignant, as our hostess in New York, Gretchen Janssen’s Dutch husband and in-laws were also imprisoned during the war by the Japanese. When we visited her, Abby helped her clean out a bookshelf, and they found a journal kept of their prison experiences.
Perhaps most enjoyable for me and the girls were the temporary exhibits, especially one that had just opened a few days before – “A Stitch a Day – Embroidering in Prison, 1940-1945”. This exhibit showed how imprisoned women recorded their experiences and kept their sanity by embroidering with whatever thread they could find. The detail and miniscule stitching was incredible. At the end of the exhibit was a “Victory Skirt”. These skirts were made from scraps of material that held special meaning to the creator about the war years. The idea caught on, and hundreds of women created these skirts and wore them in liberation celebrations.
Finished here, we caught the tram to Dam Square, the center of Amsterdam. As we viewed the palace and the other buildings that surround the square, I finally put words to a feeling I had all day. I realized that I didn’t particularly like Amsterdam. Where Lisbon reminded me of all the things I love about San Francisco, Amsterdam reminds me of all the things I don’t like about San Francisco. The streets were busy, dirty; the buildings were worn down. Even in the canals, Amsterdam looked dirty and worn out. The water was brown and filled with trash, and the houseboats on the canal were old, decrepit and desperately in need of a new coat of paint. It just seemed that, in all the hustle and bustle, the inhabitants of Amsterdam forgot to take care of their city. It was sad, really, because I could barely make out the beauty of the city under all the grime and dirt.
We made our way to dinner, purposely heading down some pedestrian lanes to get lost and see more of Amsterdam. That certainly happened as we found ourselves on one of the busiest shopping streets on the city. However, we could have been anywhere, as we passed a McDonalds, a Starbucks and a Claire’s. Not enjoying the crowds, we ducked down a side street, and then crossed canal after canal on our way to dinner. When we arrived at the Pancake Bakery, we were surprised to see a line out the door. After all, it was only 5 pm. I had done my research. To avoid waiting in a long line at the Anne Frank House, it was suggested that we arrive after 6 pm (the museum doesn’t close until nine.) So our plan was to have an early dinner and then go to see Anne Frank’s Secret Annex. Given the crowd, I wondered if too many others had done the same research and come to the same conclusion.
Our meal at the Pancake Bakery was an interesting experience. First of all, we were having pancakes for dinner. Secondly, our party was split between two tables, kids at one, and parents at the other. And thirdly, the menu specified that the restaurant did not serve tap water. All drinks were to be purchased. The traditional pancakes came in two types, savory and sweet. We decided to order three savory and three sweet and have dinner and “dessert” at the same time. After some deliberation, the final decision was to order bacon and apple, chicken and cheese, and cheese and pineapple for our savories, and cherries, peaches, and apple and raisin for our sweet choices. The pancakes arrived like giant pizzas with the ingredients either baked within or on top. On the table were a variety of syrups – caramel, “original” or maple. The best translation our waitress could give us of what “original” was -- was sugar. A can of powdered sugar also graced each table. When the pancakes arrived they were cut into sixths and passed along after a sixth was eaten. My favorite was the bacon and apple but Abby found the pineapple and cheese particularly disgusting. We pulled out our water bottles for hydration during the meal and were surprised when the waitress came and told us that providing our own drinks was not permitted. In all Rick Steves podcasts he extolled the Dutch people’s tolerance – “Live and let live” policy – basically you can do whatever you wish, as long as you are not bothering someone else. Guess that tolerance doesn’t extend to water.
Finishing up, we headed a block down the street to the Anne Frank House. I was particularly excited about this excursion. I read the Diary of Anne Frank to each of my children and when we finished reading, each asked me, “Can we visit her hiding place during our year trip?” And to each child I made the promise that we would. And now that moment had come. As we neared the house, my heart sank. There was a line out the door. Not only was today a bank holiday, but it seemed obvious that others had read the same tip. I gave our gang the option of returning another day, but they wanted to take their chances. The wait was much shorter than I anticipated and soon we were inside.
Again the exhibit was well done. The path wound through the warehouse and annex, room by room. In each room were quotations from Anne’s diary painted on the wall, various artifacts and pictures. We each carried a booklet full of commentary in English that also explained where we were and what we were seeing. Several of the rooms were showing short video clips of interviews and scenes of the day. The line moved through slowly as there wasn’t much room and there was a lot to read. The rooms were dimly lit and again, the English translation of the information about the artifacts was a font size smaller than the Dutch. I didn’t need reading glasses before this trip, but reading all this small font in low lighting is definitely having an impact on my eyes. At the end of the tour was an interesting room, with video screens on each of the walls. In the middle were “voting posts”. A scenario would play about rights, free speech, etc., and then a question would be posed and the audience could vote by pushing the + or – button on the post. The votes were quickly tabulated and the results published. Then the next scenario began to play. Topics covered were about whether freedom of speech on Facebook extended to those who claim the Holocaust never happened and whether a school ban on head scarves is discriminatory or not - all good food for thought.
It was nine o’clock before we finally left the Anne Frank House. Ben led us to the correct tram stop and soon we were arriving at the train station. We caught the train back to Haarlem and enjoyed riding the oldest train line in the Netherlands – the same train line that Corrie Ten Boom used to travel with her father when they traveled from Haarlem to Amsterdam to get the correct time for the watches in his watch shop. From the train window we saw the acres and acres of reclaimed land where green pastures now stand where once the sea dominated. We were tired, but as the sun began to set on this beautiful land, we were able to count today as a good day in the end.