Amsterdam, Netherlands

To be honest, I had low expectations for Amsterdam. All I knew is this is where people came to legally smoke pot. I really thought that we would have a quick day of touring a few sites and get back on the train and make Brussels for dinner. I expected a dirty city and a day of watching my back hoping that some drug addict wouldn’t come steal my stuff while I was trying to take a photo.

We left Brussels on the 6am train and arrived at 8:30 to a beautiful, clean, and energetic train station and a vibrant city full of life and activity. We found out quickly we had arrived on Queen’s Day. The whole city was on a Holiday break and the atmosphere reminded one of the feelings of the last day of school. We had an opportunity to refer to our handy Rick Steve’s tour guide and made a quick plan before we arrived. That book never left the backpack that day.

It was a good day to see a few sites. Everyone seemed to be having a party. There were no lines for any tourist activity and we were able to see everything we wanted quickly this day.

Anne Frank’s house really was moving. She was the Jewish young girl who was forced to hide in her attic during the Nazi occupation. Her father owned a factory on the canal. Their home was directly above the factory. Basically it was a 4 story house with the top floor and attic for the living quarters. When it became illegal for a Jew to own a business he turned control over to the employees. When Jews were asked to report to be shipped to the concentration camps, they hid in the attic and hope to survive. The isolation and apprehension must have been close to unbearable. Young Anne wrote in her diary as a release. This plan worked until late in the war. They could hear the BBC on the radio. For most of this time the news was not promising, but as the war progressed the tide began to turn. The allied forces could see the potential for victory and the British press was asking for everyone to tell their stories of abuse from Hitler’s troupes. Hearing this gave Ann an opportunity to organize her diary into the story we have all read.

Also aware that allied victory was drawing near the SS increased the pressure on those helping the Jews avoid the Nazi’s. Out of the many loyal employees who had secretly supported the family, one must have finally cracked. The house was searched and the family found. The hidden diary remained but the entire family was separated and sent to concentration camps. Only the father survived. He found Ann’s diary when he was released at the end of the war. He knew Ann had kept a diary, but had never read a word until that moment. It is hard to fathom the emotion of a father reading this after knowing the horrible death every one in his family had suffered. He spent the rest of his life making sure the world knew the story his daughter had told so well in her diary.

As a father of a 12 year old girl, the whole house and story really touched me. One of the exhibits showed some letters written by her father in his latter years. It seems his deepest regret was that he got to know his daughter through her diary. They spent years in a cramped attic together, and yet he never knew the understanding or the feelings his daughter had. He had avoided discussion of their situation and convinced himself that his daughter was not fully aware of how dire their situation was. The deep thoughts and contemplation of Ann’s diary haunted him the rest of his days. It was also a chilling reminder that for every story we know there were thousands just as tragic that have gone untold.

Around the corner from the Frank House was Westerkirk the largest Dutch protestant church. Rembrandt was buried here. The tower is 272 feet (the tallest in the city) and you can still climb it today. We took the tour and the views of the city were pretty awesome. Our young blonde tour guide seemed to have a fan club, but she knew her stuff. We got go a full demonstration of the operation if the bells and the construction of the tower, The view of the entire city is what made the climb worthwhile.

From there we deiced to go on a canal tour. The whole city has a beautiful canal system. It goes back to the time when water was the preferred method of shipping good and this was a serious business center. The Canal tour gave us a chance to see the entire city and also pass The Amsterdam. A replica of a ship of the East India Trading company.

We also managed to see the Van Gogh museum. Vincent Van Gogh (1853-1890) began painting in 1880 in the Netherlands and moved to Paris in 1885. He was put into a an asylum after cutting off a portion of his ear in 1890 and he took his own life in Auvers that year. It is a shame that his career as an artist was so short.

We had worn ourselves out. It was 4;00 and time to head back to the train station. The most direct route was though the red light district and we started walking back. The scheduled showed the trains to Brussels left on the hour until 10:00pm, but we were ready to get the 2 1/2 hour train ride started.

As we walked we began to notice the prostitutes in bathing suits in the front of the storefronts in the red light district. The red light district seemed safe but it was unlike anything the two of had ever seen. Soon I realized that I was walking alone. My wife had turned into a Japanese tourist and was trying to get some photos. By the time I got back to her the she had the attention of several large gentlemen who were explaining that photos were not allowed. We packed the cameras back up and kept walking. Melissa was entertained and we decided to stay a little longer and watch what goes on in this strange world.

We finally saw all we needed around 7 and decided to actually check out one of the coffee shops where they actually sell marijuana. We had already seen some vice for hand, might as well expand our experience to everything they had to offer

Upon entering the coffee shop we walked up to the bar to order a drink and take a look at the pot menu. Surprising to me, they don’t serve beer in these place. Honestly, I don’ t know if they actually serve coffee either. We sat down and relaxed for a while and actually found the whole experience interesting. So much so we decided to catch the last train that left out at 10:00.

We arrived at the train station around 9:30 looking for the platform # as we walked in. The train was not listed. We finally asked and were told that the schedule had changed and the last train out occurred 9:00pm. The next train out was at 6:00am the next morning. We were stuck for the night. I guess the best option was to get a room, and luckily there was a hotel next door. We walked in and asked for a room and the person at the front desk started laughing. It Queen’s Day for goodness sake…didn’t we know ALL the rooms in town were booked?

Long story short, I ended up paying 80 Euros each way for the cab to the closest available hotel (way outside of town). Another 150 Euros for the Hotel and was able to actually sleep for 3 hours before returning to the train station to catch the 6AM train. I have always said sleep was over rated. Even after paying the “stupid tax” for missing the train, this still ranks as a great day.

The one thought I had around 1:00AM while trying to locate the last hotel room in the Netherlands. Surely they rent rooms by the hour in the red light district. I knew we would only get a max of 4 hours of sleep… but I was never brave enough to mention this to my wife.