Most of the Rest of Amsterdam

Boy am I tired!

Yesterday I got up early and went the long-but-simple way to the Anne Frank House. Stress LONG. (OK, longer than it would have been otherwise.) Being a non-morning person, having had no breakfast or caffeine, and walking at a brisk-for-me pace was unfun. I sat a couple of times and then got worried I wouldn’t make it on time. I did, just a few minutes early.

I went to the English introduction and it really wasn’t necessary, having read the diary and other things, but it was nice to sit for a half hour!

The museum itself is quite small. And dark — they have kept the windows covered as they would have been during hiding. The staircase into the offices alone was narrow and steep. For some reason, I had not pictured the bookcase that covered the entrance to the back house being on a landing all by itself, I don’t know why. And then you have to climb up into the doorway. Other staircases are more like ladders.

The rooms are tiny, just tiny, for the number of people they had to hold and the length of time those people were in there, especially without being able to see out. I know I would have been a wreck with claustrophobia.

It’s fascinating — really sad, but fascinating. We of course read the diaries several times through school, and unexpurgated version was in my very first Amazon order in 1996. That’s good in that I knew enough to not have to refresh my memory, but bad because I had a scene all set in my head, and it was not at all like that. Or maybe not bad, but it made for a heady experience as I had to readjust my mental picture almost totally.

After that I walked across town to the Van Gogh. Since I’d been over in that area earlier, I had an idea of where to go, and I made it in one piece! There was a longish line but it was fine. I was bummed my favorite painting, the print of which I have in the bathroom at home, isn’t there; I hadn’t checked to see where it’s held. But there were others, and it was interesting. The large picture at the end with his and his brother’s graves side-by-side in France gave me chills, for some reason. Very sad.

I had walked through the line of food stalls on my way over, and on the way back got a sandwich and sat down at the table along the Museumplein…and watched the Muslim anti-American demonstration. I didn’t actually realize at first what it was, although I knew the embassy was over there. Then I saw a woman in niqab (striding along with a man and talking vigorously with her gloved hands), and realized some of the crowd was veiled as well. And that the reason I couldn’t read the signs wasn’t that they were too small or in Dutch, but in Arabic. I’d never actually seen an anti-American demonstration before. Watched and listened for awhile although I was too far away to really hear anything, took a picture with my kickass zoom, then ambled on my in-this-instance-I’m-Canadian-thanks way.

Walking back I watched a lot of young Dutch people and wondered what I’d have been like if I’d grown up someplace like this. (Thinner, for sure. But otherwise, I mean.)

Later in the evening I walked around my neighborhood taking pictures with the lights reflecting on the Amstel; found the cafe for knit night, and looked into bars and restaurants. I was thinking about how a couple, or a single man, can waltz into a bar, but there’s something a little odd about a lone woman doing it, at least in a place she’s unknown. I will do it here at the hotel but not out in the world. I do think that when I’m older and I’m an eccentric old woman I can and will do it, though.

Monday I slept late — I was really beat, and decided that being exhausted was not going to do me any good. I went and sat out in the lobby and the lovely woman at the bar asked me if I wanted a latte. OH YES PLEASE. And it was lovely. As in France and probably everywhere else in continental Europe, it comes with a butter cookie (well, in France they’re spice cookies). She was very sweet, had a lovely smile and merry eyes,  and I got the impression she’s someone I would like to know in real life.

Then I walked up to Dam Square, because I was told to by several people. I have to confess that sometimes big squares are not my favorite things (awesome, since I’m staying on one in Prague!). I really prefer winding small streets and alleys. However, the palace is pretty, as is the neighboring church, and there’s a big Dutch department store I may or may not have gone into and used my chip-and-PIN card for for the first time to buy a fuchsia handbag from their store line. Maybe.

I retraced some of my steps and went to the Our Lord in the Attic museum. It’s a Catholic church built across three attic spaces in a canal house, back in the day when Catholicism was illegal to practice in Amsterdam. In reality, the authorities turned a blind eye as long as you were discreet, and the owner of the houses was a respected and well-to-do businessman. It’s undergoing renovation so not everything was there, but it was sort of a Winchester Mystery House-esque thing, with lots of small winding stairways and a church the size of, say, a smallish restaurant but beautiful appointments . They have repainted it the purple it was when it last functioned as a church, in the 19th century. The pictures of it in the guidebook I bought are pre-restoration so are still yellow, but you can see some things that aren’t there right now. It was fun to climb down the original 17th-century steps from the living room in the living quarters. These folks had to be nimble.

Also, this was a rich man’s house and it was still cramped. Granted, they had to be quite a lot shorter than the average person now, since the box beds that are still there would be too short for me to sleep in. Still not a big house, especially squeezing in a church and a resident priest!

After that I had to skedaddle back (just along the edge of the red light district) because C was going to meet me at my hotel to go to dinner before the Stitch & Bitch. I got myself refreshed and then waited out in the lobby for her. We walked over to a beautiful little restaurant across the river in the university district, where I had wine, risotto, strawberry tiramisu and coffee and a wonderful discussion. She used to work on merchant ships as a young woman, has two kids in their twenties, one of whom has Down Syndrome, went to college as a mature student and has an MA in Religious Studies. She works as a secretary for the university now. Then we wandered over to Cafe de Jaren for knit night. My other online friend A showed up… knitting lace socks and drinking wine, which boggled my mind. Everyone else there but C was an ex-pat. A is Australian and everyone else is American. One guy, a Korean (I think) American  is a professor; A’s Kiwi husband got a job here (and they just bought a house); everyone else seems to have married a Dutch person. I must confess I sat there a little wistful and depressed because I will never live in Europe. But hey, at least I’m here, and all other things being equal I will come back again. And at least I get to say “I’m from San Francisco,” which has a certain cachet. (OK, I’m not really from there, but close, and people know it. I do work there!)

Everyone else’s knitting far, far surpassed mine. One woman is going back to America to teach at knitting things this fall. Rarefied atmosphere!

Afterwards A and C walked me back to my hotel, around 10.30. And then I accidentally got caught up in a subtitled Italian movie and was up til three AM. What the hell?! A had given me her phone number to call her the next day if I wanted to do something, as she’s not working right now. So I made myself go to sleep, I think sometime before four!

When I came to around nine, it was raining. That put the kibosh on my possible canal boat tour and I turned over and went back to sleep til eleven. Then I called A, got dressed, got online and checked in for my flight to Prague tomorrow, and had coffee from my lovely bartending lady. And I feel so grownup just charging them to my room. You’d think I was an adult or something.

A showed up, had some coffee with me, and we showed off our cat photos (she’s not having any kids either). Then we walked through the flower market and the Delft shop, where I didn’t buy anything even though I really could have, but it’s expensive and I don’t know if it would have made the journey home. Then we went to the Christmas shop, where I did buy some things (so did she, but she kept telling herself she could come back). We had lunch, went to a yarn shop (staffed by an American), then went and had a cocktail and walked back here in the rain. She went off to grocery shop and make dinner. I’m drying out and will shortly go out to the lobby to get online and maybe get something to eat/drink.

I wish I had a couple extra days, but if I come back there’s things I don’t need to do again so I’d have time for other stuff. I do wish I’d done a canal tour, gone to the Jewish quarter (it’s literally right around the corner and over a bridge from here) and gone inside some churches. But it will be here! I do kinda wish I’d bought some Delft or had tulip bulbs sent home (they’re my favorite flower), but that’s life. I still have two other cities to hit!

I have to leave the hotel at 7 tomorrow morning. O.o I will have to get up at work time, 6.20. My flight is at 9:30 and Schiphol is HUGE. In fact, it’s an actual destination itself.  They even have facilities for you to get married there, and there’s a massive mall. So there will be some navigating. I checked in but am picking up my boarding pass at the airport so I want to build in some time, and I’d rather sit with coffee and await my flight than run.

I have found I just hate leaving anywhere. Before I left I was like, “I don’t wanna go, I want to stay home with the cats and read in my cushy safe home.” Now I’m like, “I don’t want to leave Amsterdam! I like it here!” Also, Prague is an unknown. But once I get going it will be good.

Off to the lobby….