Saturday morning Julie and I got up comfortably late and eventually
headed out to find that bakery we had seen the day before. Our b&b
(bed, but no breakfast) was only a few doors from the Neuemarkt, but
we were hungry and the market was still setting up, so we bypassed it
and headed down what we thought might be the right side street.
Hmmm...maybe not: the street ended in the red light district. Which
was quiet, but not quite closed. Few people were on the street, but
there were still girls sitting in their red-lit windows, smiling at
passersby. After a few blocks, we took a narrow side street over
towards Little China and found the street we'd missed. After that it
was just a matter of following our noses to Brod, the bakery we had
spotted.
We took our bread and coffee downstairs to a room with a single table
and a set of French doors that opened right onto the canal. As we ate,
we made a plan: first Anne Franke House, then the Van Gogh museum and
if we had time, maybe the Museum of Handbags and Purses. Oh, and
Julie, being a seasoned city dweller, was ready to walk the whole way
- everything on the map looked "not too far" to her.
So we set out on foot, map in hand, drizzle misting down on us from
time to time. We didn't hurry, stopping at shops along the way,
sometimes browsing intensively. I bought a pair of gloves fairly early
on - it was around 50F and with the wet seemed colder. Julie bought a
few things too, and the helped me pick out a warm hat that didn't look
too silly. Well, at least she assured me that it looked ok, but maybe
that was "looked ok for a 50 year old American tourist."
Unfortunately when we got to Anne Franke House, there was a LONG line,
and we reluctantly agreed that we had no desire to wait that long. So
we cheerfully set off in the direction of the Van Gogh, browsing shop
windows and snapping interesting photos along the way. The old part of
Amsterdam that we were walking through is beautiful - a canal every
few blocks, narrow three story houses crammed shoulder to shoulder all
with ornate fronts with interesting windows often surrounding hidden
courtyards. The house we were staying in was like this, and I realized
quickly that the houses were probably designed to maximize the light
inside - days can have as little as 4 or 5 hours of light in winter.
Julie was amazed that as we walked by we could see right into most of
the street-level windows. In Germany, she told me, they would all have
been closed off.
We could see that life is difficult for cars in Amsterdam - there is
little parking and many of the streets are almost too narrow for a
car. And bicycles own the city. Everyone yields for bikes, even
pedestrians. And that's an ACTIVE yield I'm talking about - I learned
very quickly that if a bell rings behind you you'd best pick a
direction and jump. Standing still to allow the bike to pass only
resulted in the biker stopping dead behind you...hopefully without
running into you.
The line for the Van Gogh museum was not long. But when we got inside,
it busy, about as crowded as any museum I have visited. It was also
one of the best curated museums I have seen, starting with artists who
were early influences on Van Gogh and moving chronologically through
his life and work, entwining the story of his life, his work, and the
works and commentary of the other artists who were gathered around
him, influencing him as he influenced them. The exhibit ends with a
collection of works by artists who were influenced by Van Gogh,
continuing right up to Picasso and even Mondrian and others who were
painting well into the 20th century. All very interesting to me, and
for Julie the young art student even more so.
Ah, but perhaps it wasn't just the art? About halfway through the
museum, I caught up with Julie deep in artistic conversation with a
handsome young man. It turned out that he was an American college
student from California, born of Indian immigrant parents who was on
exchange for a year in Italy and visiting Amsterdam for the weekend.
(You KNOW I couldn't possibly have invented a story like that!). So I
smiled and continued at my own pace and they at theirs. By the time we
were finished, it was time for coffee, and before I could open my
mouth to ask if the nice young man would like to join us, Julie asked
if it would be ok for us all to go together. So we did, wandering
through the drizzly streets until we found a cafe with room enough. I
drank coffee and chatted a bit but mostly just enjoyed watching the
two of them flirt. As we finished, they concluded the process with
Julie smiling and handing the young man her cell phone so he could
enter his number and him handing it back to her with a smile I wish
I'd caught with my camera.
Julie and I continued on our loosely planned itinerary, wandering
through the streets to Rembrandt square, where the tourists were busy
taking photos of themselves in front of the sculpture there and local
artists were out in force exhibiting their paintings of the city in
the tradition of Van Gogh and others who were always interested in
painting what would sell. There is definitely a "school" of this sort
of painting. The artists were mostly selling watercolors of city
scenes, but the palettes the used and their interpretations of the
scenes varied considerably. Rebecca had asked me to bring back
something for her walls, so I chose a watercolor from an artist who
clearly saw something quite different from what I saw when I looked at
those street scenes.
By the time we got back to our room, we were tired but not yet hungry,
so we took a nap. Around 7 we walked next door to the almost invisible
Italian restaurant that Godwin had assured us was one of the best in
the city. It was a tiny place with perhaps a dozen or 15 tables as
well as a resident cat. The maitre d' who greeted us (and who I think
was also the owner and perhaps at least the inspiration for the menu
if not a chef himself) was almost a cariacature of an Italian who
loves food and feeding people: think Pavarotti without the opratic
voice but with the soft Italian accent, an appreciation for beautiful
women, and a heart of gold. Julie's stomach was bothering her, so when
she ordered only an appetizer and salad, he was immediately concerned,
especially when she even refused pasta. But as we ate and chatted at a
leisurely pace, he saw that all was well, and merely checked from time
to time to make sure that everything was to our liking. It certainly
was - the food was fabulous. And as we got to coffee, he insisted that
we must finish the meal with a lemon liqueur, that it would certainly
fix whatever was wrong with Julie's stomach. So we did, and by the
time we had finished, it was after 10, and we were tired.
Well, I THOUGHT we were tired, and that Julie's stomach was still not
so good. I started getting ready to go to bed when we got back to the
room, but all of a sudden, Julie was putting on her jacket so she
could go outside and make a phone call. She returned a little before
11, looked at the clock and told me she was going to meet the nice
young man for coffee in half an hour. But first she had to wash her
hair of course :-) She ran out to meet him at the train station just
shy of that 11:30 appointment promising to be in around 3. At least
she left me his phone number....just in case, of course. Clearly it
was not for me to worry - so I went to sleep, and was vaguely aware of
her coming in for a bit to use the bathroom and then going out again
before coming in for good. Apparently they walked and talked and sat
and drank coffee somewhere nearby. I will certainly be interested to
see if they manage to get together again sometime.
Sunday morning we got up a bit more slowly than the day before, had
breakfast at our favorite bread place, then spent some time wandering
through the market. It's the kind of place where it's hard to resist
buying stuff, so...we did. Actually mostly Julie did - I was a lot
more disciplined because of my awareness of the weight allowance with
4 more flights ahead of me before heading home. Fun just to walk
through, though.
Afterwards, we headed for one of the photography museums (will insert
name here when I get a chance to unpack and look it up). Some
interesting current work, but the exhibit of photos by (insert artist
here) of photos she made on the streets of New York City from the
1940's thru the 1970's was fascinating. We spent a long time there,
and afterwards had no inclination to visit another museum, so once
again we wandered through more of Amsterdam on foot, eventually
arriving at our room in time for a cup of tea and for Julie to pack
her things. I walked her down to the train station and we were truly
sorry that the weekend was over. Both of us had admitted that we were
not sure what it was going to be like to spend so much time together
after not having more than e-mail contact for more than a year, but we
agreed that we had loved having the chance to just hang out and talk a
lot and explore together a place that was new to us. I'm sure we will
do something similar again, and I hope I get the chance to do the same
with my other exchange daughters too.
After I saw Julie onto the train, I called Alex, who had texted me
earlier. I hsd the impression from his texting that he wanted to meet
for coffee, but it turned out that he had an idea that he, Monique,
Rudo and I should meet at a place he knew where the food was great and
there would be live music and dancing afterwards. Rudo, Monique and I
had previously agreed that we would meet at Rudo's in the evening and
Alex had also been invited. I was pretty sure that Rudo would not be
interested in going out again, and Monique had already texted me to
say that she had driven out to her parents so would not be back until
later than we had originally planned. But Alex was pretty insistent,
so I suggested he call Rudo and see what could be arranged and that if
the others were interested, I would go too. Nearly an hour later he
called me back to say that Rudo didn't want to go out, so I told him
that I was just going to follow my original plan and head out to
Zaandam. By that time it was too late for coffee if I was going to
catch a bus, so he agreed to meet us at Rudo's later.
Somehow finding a schedule for the bus I needed to get to Zaandam was
not very easy, but fortunately Wimmo stopped in at the B&B and he
managed to navigate the Dutch-only portion of the public transit web
site to answer my question. So off I went again. On the bus, I called
Rudo to let him know I was on my way. Had I spoken to Alex, he
wondered? Yes, I said, I had spoken to Alex. Oh! he said. We can talk
when you get here. I just smiled.
So Rudo and I ordered takeout Chinese food, and Alex eventually joined
us, bringing a bottle of ouzo. We chatted and ate for a while, and
Monique was still not back. Alex really wanted to get out to dance and
play and offered to take me along, but I really was too tired and
wanted a chance to say goodbye to Monique. So Alex left, and of course
Monique arrived only a few minutes later. We fed her and chatted and
drank homemade rakia until not too late. Nice to have such comfortable
friends after such a short time together and in a place so far from
home.
Eventually Monique dropped me off at my room on her way home. And
early the next morning, I headed for Ribe.
Cindy
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