Mom and I got to Amsterdam Centraal train station Thursday afternoon and went directly to the tourist office to purchase our IAmsterdam cards. Though we would be in the city for parts of 4 days, we were only spending 2 full days in the city and opted for the 48 hour card to begin the next day. The cards cover a whole host of museums/attractions and public transportation around the city on buses, trams, etc. The cards don't, however, cover the Anne Frank House, so we decided to go there before our cards began the next morning. The man at the tourism office gave us directions to our hotel and warned that we would have to walk through a small "red light" area to get there. I had forgotten all about his warning and was reaaally confused about the girl in the cheetah print bikini smoking a cigarette in her picture window. Is she posing? YUP! It's her JOB. Oooooops. Welcome to Amsterdam. We made it to our hotel and found our itty bitty room (with a canal view!) and then decided to get out and tour.
You're not allowed to take picture in the Anne Frank house for a bunch of reasons but mostly because they say that the museum can be an emotional experience for a lot of people and constant clicking and flashing would be really distracting. The museum does an amazing job of setting the scene of the political climate and the war and how the Frank family fits into that framework. Anne's story became so much more real for the understanding that she was a very regular little girl prior to the war. Mom and I both talked about how we had only ever seen a handful of photos of Anne,
The museum, though, had tons of photographs of Anne. It made her seem much more like a real little girl than an icon or a symbol. It was also really interesting to read that the Dutch government had issued statements asking for personal accounts of the war experiences. These announcements inspired Anne and created her desire to write. She hoped to become an author and to write a novel about her time in the annex and had even begun to rewrite and edit entries in her famous diary.
Her father, Otto Frank, was the only one of the people in the annex to survive WWII and was completely responsible for the publication of Anne's diary, the establishment of the museum, and the dramatization of their story on both stage and screen. He decided that the rooms of the attic annex where they had stayed should remain empty to symbolize the desolation of the Holocaust, but agreed to help make miniature models of what the rooms had looked like while they lived there. He was a really remarkable man. He had every right to be completely defeated, but he continued the fight to share Anne's story. That said, he was integral in the creation of the script for the play about his family, but politely declined to see it because it was too upsetting to see himself and his family replicated in that way. The museum was incredibly moving and told a lot of stories that I had forgotten or had never heard, like Anne finding her best friend from home in the camps and their brief but meaningful interactions there. If you get a chance to go there, GO.
After the museum, we wandered around for a while until we found somewhere for dinner. We thought we found a great deal on Japanese food, but we had really found a great ripoff. They were weird and refused to provide free tap water (rolls eyes at stingy Europeans). We satisfied ourselves with a couple of small dishes and made up for it by buying a couple chocolate bars from the grocery store - as you do. We got back to the hotel, showered, and got into our pajamas, but ended up switching rooms. You might begin to see a trend... Anyhow, we switched rooms, FaceTimed with Dad, and went to bed.
Her father, Otto Frank, was the only one of the people in the annex to survive WWII and was completely responsible for the publication of Anne's diary, the establishment of the museum, and the dramatization of their story on both stage and screen. He decided that the rooms of the attic annex where they had stayed should remain empty to symbolize the desolation of the Holocaust, but agreed to help make miniature models of what the rooms had looked like while they lived there. He was a really remarkable man. He had every right to be completely defeated, but he continued the fight to share Anne's story. That said, he was integral in the creation of the script for the play about his family, but politely declined to see it because it was too upsetting to see himself and his family replicated in that way. The museum was incredibly moving and told a lot of stories that I had forgotten or had never heard, like Anne finding her best friend from home in the camps and their brief but meaningful interactions there. If you get a chance to go there, GO.
After the museum, we wandered around for a while until we found somewhere for dinner. We thought we found a great deal on Japanese food, but we had really found a great ripoff. They were weird and refused to provide free tap water (rolls eyes at stingy Europeans). We satisfied ourselves with a couple of small dishes and made up for it by buying a couple chocolate bars from the grocery store - as you do. We got back to the hotel, showered, and got into our pajamas, but ended up switching rooms. You might begin to see a trend... Anyhow, we switched rooms, FaceTimed with Dad, and went to bed.
Mom and I spent waay too long looking for a cafe/bakery to eat breakfast. I don't know why this keeps happening (the same thing happened in Paris), but we would pass 100 bakeries throughout the day and then as soon as we decided we wanted to check one out it would take FOREVER to find one! The lady here thought I was crazy for asking what's good for breakfast, rolled her eyes, and said "Croissant, or pain au chocolat." Duhh. The chocolate croissant was good though!
After breakfast, we went to the Van Gogh Museum which has a HUGE collection of his work as well as relevant works by his contemporaries. It was carefully constructed to show who inspired him as well as how he inspired those who came later. While it is unusual to spend so much time combing through one artist's work, I think it was a really meaningful experience. I feel like I understand Van Gogh as a person and artist muuch better. Ironically, his Sunflowers are currently on display somewhere in London! Aand, the MOMA in NYC has Starry Night. The upper level of the museum featured an array of work (paintings and woodcut prints) by Felix Vallotton. I can't remember what about Vallotton connected him to Van Gogh, but his work was really interesting.
I haven't talked much about the canals, but I figured this might be the best way to explain them. Pretty much any thick line that looks like it couuld be a wide street is actually water. The canals sweep down from the top middle/left. They're really cool and pretty, but make everything really confusing. Street name suffixes change every time you cross a canal, so it can be hard to keep track of where you are if you aren't super familiar with the system.
We made our way to the Museum Geelvinck Hinlopen Huis which is a canal "palace." The family who lived there had ties to the West and East India Trading Companies and owned a back-to-back double lot so both properties face a canal. One house was a carriage house/living space for servants, the other was the family home. There is a beautifiul garden in between!
AAAAAaaand, we switched hotel rooms AGAIN this night because people were smoking and being really loud. We are accidentally so high maintenance.
The next morning we went to the Jewish Historical Museum which consists of two synagogues in one building and lots of religious artifacts. I was already familiar with most of the ritual items, but the best part was the section on modern Judaism. They had video interviews of people who lived in Amsterdam during WWII who discussed how Jewish life in Amsterdam evolved over the past ~70 years.
I am really glad I went to Amsterdam; I have never seen a city anything like it. It has a lot of culture and history, but is also extreme in a lot of ways. The museums were really special, but the city has a really strange vibe. It ranges from feeling very historical and old to feeling almost uncomfortably progressive.
Mom and I got to go to the airport together, though my plane was leaving earlier. Schipol Airport was really interesting because they had basic security to get through to the gates, but the bulk of the security happened at each terminal. Sometimes it was gate specific. Anyhow, Mom and I sped through the airport to my gate. We hugged goodbye, I went through security, and expected to see her in a month and a half. THEN, I realized I was at the wrong gate! 15 minutes before my plane was to board. It had easily taken us 15 minutes to get to the end of this concourse, and I was terrified I was going to miss my flight. The security officers had to call someone to figure out where my gate was, and I took off running, backpack flopping. As I was sprinting clumsily down the concourse, I heard my mom! She had stopped off to look in a shop and joined me in my quest for my real gate. We repeated our goodbyes, and I made it back to London just fine.
Unfortunately, Mom's trip home was quite a bit more complicated. Her flight was delayed and then cancelled. The airline put her up in a hotel for a night and she eventually got home the next day after a long list of annoying complications with hotel and flights. All is well that ends well.
Mom and I got to go to the airport together, though my plane was leaving earlier. Schipol Airport was really interesting because they had basic security to get through to the gates, but the bulk of the security happened at each terminal. Sometimes it was gate specific. Anyhow, Mom and I sped through the airport to my gate. We hugged goodbye, I went through security, and expected to see her in a month and a half. THEN, I realized I was at the wrong gate! 15 minutes before my plane was to board. It had easily taken us 15 minutes to get to the end of this concourse, and I was terrified I was going to miss my flight. The security officers had to call someone to figure out where my gate was, and I took off running, backpack flopping. As I was sprinting clumsily down the concourse, I heard my mom! She had stopped off to look in a shop and joined me in my quest for my real gate. We repeated our goodbyes, and I made it back to London just fine.
Unfortunately, Mom's trip home was quite a bit more complicated. Her flight was delayed and then cancelled. The airline put her up in a hotel for a night and she eventually got home the next day after a long list of annoying complications with hotel and flights. All is well that ends well.