Day 20 - fatigue, Het Sheepvaartmuseum, Arcadi Volodos at the Concertgebouw

Sunday 15th April 2012

Friday and Saturday nights are a problem here at the Hotel Fita.  After Friday night our hosts said to ring them if we got more noise.  So ring them we did.  Action was taken, but any reduction in noise outside the square was only temporary.  One considerate fellow was wandering around blowing a horn.  We are very tired. More tired than we should be.  Today was also slated as an “off” day. Some things we’d like to do but an expectation of just do nothing if that’s what we feel like.  We drag ourselves to breakfast at the last minute.  Best pastries all gone.  My dutch pancake is a bit burnt today. Sigh.

So, what to do. I’m anxious to at least get another day of blog completed. I laze around doing that while hubby showers.. and then some…

We decide that we will go through the motions and walk around past the Van Gogh museum and the Rijksmuseum so that we can freak out about the queues and go and do a canal cruise instead.  Yep. Check out the queue at the Van Gogh Museum. It won’t all fit in the photo. There’s about 20% out of shot. Possibly we could enter on our Iamsterdam card without the queue, but we're a bit over it and couldn't be bothered checking today. 

There’s an arctic breeze blowing. Man it’s cold.  We don our raingear and that helps as we stand and jiggle about at the bus stop.  There’s about 10 of us waiting for the tram.  Tourists are very obvious in Amsterdam. I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere else where it was so clear when you are surrounded by foreign visitors. We’ve got another international crowd at the tram stop.

It’s a short trip in to Dam Square. Our intention is to take the Holland International canal cruise… but I really want to go to the maritime museum and I’d rather take the boat round there and get off.  I persuade hubby that we should just get the canal bus that is pulling in.  Eventually he agrees and we hand over our €22 pp.  With this we can ride the boats around the canals over three different routes.  Our first ride is on the green route and it takes us out onto the Ij breifly before turning up along a route we’ve walked a few times.  We figure that at this time of year, the view at street level is much better. Hmm.  But we did enjoy seeing the new Eye film museum.
It’s nearly lunch time and we have failed to realize that the boat will put up at the Rijksmuseum stop for the captain to have lunch. Everyone out.  Haha. Ah, we’re back home. Hmm.  I promise to do everything hubby suggests from now on. He wanted to just see how we liked the canal cruising on the free one with the Iamsterdam card.  Oh well. We need some lunch ourselves I suppose.  Hubby is leading the way again.  “The pancake place we saw from the canal is just down there.”  He can’t remember whether this is the one our host said to go to or to avoid.  Walking along there’s some pretty views of upmarket houses. Fingers are extracted from their hiding place up my coat sleeve long enough to press the shutter button. 

We’ve not gone too far when I notice that the Vondelpark is just across the street.  “This way” I say.  I want to have just a quick look at the Vondelpark.  Inside the gates there is a long broad and fairly busy path.  Wintery gardens border the park on either side.  The gates to the park are beautiful.  Yep. That’s enough of a reccie for me today.
From here we can see the pancake place better. Let’s get inside.  I could use a comfort stop.  We approach the entry. There’s a sign on the door.  There are no toilets at this place.  Sigh.  Oh well warmth and food is the more urgent requirement anyway.  We head in.  I didn’t note the name, but it’s hard to mistake this place. You just walk down the street from the canal boat stops and it’s very old fashioned looking.  Comes across as though it’s been sitting in this park selling pannenkoeken and poffertjes for a hundred or more years. It’s busy but they have a booth for us just vacated and soon to be cleared. We breath a sigh of relief as we step into the cosy interior.  It’s good to be inside today.  We don’t have any dinner plans tonight and I had been planning a substantial lunch.  We resolve to try three options.  Poffertjes, a bacon and cheese pancake and an apple pancake.  To our surprise the bacon and cheese pancake is the best of the three here.  The poffertjes are very different to the ones at home that you get at fairs or that you make yourself following the recipes on the internet.  All are much bigger and much more substantial than they look.
In the course of having lunch we miss one boat but are back on board for the next set.  At the main intersection points the boats come in clusters. First the red line, then the green, then the blue, 5 minutes apart.  Once you get this pattern it’s easier to plan your day.  We decide that we will hop the red line boat and go check out de Oude Kerk (Old church), then change to the blue and go around for a quick look at the .  We’ve read the history and de Oude Kerk is very important through a range of historical events.  We take a new route down a canal we haven’t walked along this time and the cruising experience is more enjoyable.  Phew.  Ah. We had considered bring our architecture guide with us, but decided it was a bit heavy. BAD DECISION. :o(   it would have been handy just sitting wandering down the canals doing an relaxing self guided architecture tour.  The commentary on the boats points out lots of stuff about the various houses and other buildings, but it’s in several different languages and on auto play so it isn’t always easy… well it isn’t always easy when you’re blinking exhausted from insufficient sleep – to match comments to buildings.  None the less it is pleasant and warm sitting here cruising a long.  We dread being out in the cold.  I always find it so much harder to cope with the cold (or heat for that matter) when I’m too tired.  It’s bitterly cold.  I suggest we just get back on the blue line boat now.  We sigh with relief to be back in the warm glasshouse environment of the boat.

The blue line takes us back out into the Ij.  Ij is pronounced “eye”.  I find this outer blue line route very interesting.  Amsterdam really does seem to be adventurous with, and proud of, its architecture.  This was a surprise to me as the guide books don’t really emphasise that.  It’s been one of my favourite things here.

We round a corner and the East Indiaman Amsterdam comes into view. WOW! It’s huge.  Over to the right there’s a long row of heritage vessels.  Fabulous collection.  I turn to hubby “Isn’t this great! This is why I wanted to come here! We hop of the boat. Brrrr.  I nearly decide to get straight back on when I see what I think might be a queue at the door of the museum… nah.. just a group loitering. Phew.  We walk briskly over to get inside, but not so briskly I can’t try to snap a quick photo of the view down the harbour.  I like this part of the city.

I’ve been curious to see the new glass roof here.  It’s got a heavier presence than the roof at the British Museum, but the intersections of each bar have a coloured light. These lights change colours.  The best effect is the geometry though.

Where are the facilities?  We study the museum floorplan. Down. That’s definitely the priority just now.  Down the stairs we enter a dungeon like environment.  Roughly textured bricks, arching ancient ceilings.  What a fabulous space.  This is wonderful.  There’s lots of people coming and going. I draw the line at taking a photograph in the toilets.  People would (justifiably) think I am very weird.  So I will just say that the toilets at the Sheepvaartmuseum are really great. Curved glass and brick.  Really quite a stand out facility.  We meet up in the unisex corridor and take a little wander, in no hurry to go upstairs.  There’s nothing to see. Just the ambience of the tunnels to enjoy.  While he’s been waiting for me hubby has found a lift.  My knee has been doing odd things so I’m in no hurry for lots of stairs today.  We hop into the lift. It’s manually operated but despite my growing alarm as it doesn’t behave in the manner we are used to. Were’s the button to open the doors?  OMG are we stuck in here?  Hubby figures it out.  You push on the door. Voila it opens! A modern marvel. :o) We alight back up the courtyard level.

There is no need to agonise about what to do first. I head straight for the door outside and join the back of the queue to explore the Amsterdam East Indiaman.  Queue is not so bad.  The pay off is worth it.  We have 20 mins in the cold to observe the people manning the entrance to the ship.  They are counting exits of people on a little hand operated counting divice then letting people in to replace them.  The Amsterdam is fantastic.  Huge.  Really very very large. We’re used to the tiny little vessels like the Endeavour that are significant in Australia’s history and they surprise you with how small they actually are. Not the case with the Amsterdam.  We were a little disappointed when the signs in the captains sleeping area told us that they would originally have had more head room and the lower decks less, but the people building this reproduction decided to give the lower decks a bit more.  I guess they figured that as it was for public display there might be less risk to visitors belting their heads that way.  None the less we both enjoy crawling all over this golden age supertanker very much indeed and spend about 40 mins on it. It is awesome.

Not a lot of time left when we’re through with the Amsterdam, but enough time to check out at least one of the other areas.  We ride the lift to the 1^st floor.  Hmm. Back in the lift to the 2^nd floor where we find an exhibition of model ships and some awesome modern stained glass with a shipping theme.  Beautiful. I’m so glad we came here.  In another room there is a big relief model of the Amsterdam docks and huge screens showing modern dock activity.  How nice to see that this modern industry is still such a source of pride.  I read over the statistics and other information about the operation of the modern port facilities with interest.  Then it’s really time to head back downstairs. 

In the courtyard the sun has broken through and the roof is throwing awesome patterns on the walls.

 Ten to 5 now.  The museum is closing in ten minutes anyway and there’s a canal boat at 5 past 5. I’m worried all the patrons from the museum will leave and be queueing for the canal hopper so we head back over to the pier, but stop to take a few photos along the way. I’m very glad we came over here and also that we visited Het Sheepvaartmuseum.

The pleasure of slipping down into the warmth of the canal boat is unabated as we board for our final leg of exploring Amsterdam on the water.  I’m quite excited to be heading up past the windmill.  There’s more modern architecture along the canal as well.  I’m sure we’ll find some of these in the guide we bought.  “Check that one out! It looks like it’s got spider eyes”.   Yeah, chuckles hubby.. did you see that one?”  It’s got an artistic curve draping down over the front of the building. A piece of modern sculpture. We’ve taken a seat in the booth facing forward. I go to take a photo and realize only the other seat in front of us (which is empty mind you) has the opening window for photos.  I couldn’t be bothered moving.  Lack of sleep is impacting again.  We’re just relaxing.  Hubby puts his head down and goes to sleep. I rest my head on my hand and doze a little here and there but never actually go to sleep.  I consider whether I should just let hubby sleep rather than get off at the Rijksmuseum to go home.  In the end it’s a moot point. He wakes and in any case this bought is finishing at Rijksmuseum.  This area has proven to be a convenient base.  If only we could sleep.

We have a half hour or so to rest before we head out to find some dinner.  I’m feeling rather unwell. Just tired.  Not to tired to notice that the light is good for a photo of the sign that is repeated on the pavement all the way along this section of the street.
 Food will probably revive me. It usually does.  We choose to head to Bouf. Very close to the Concertgebouw. Nice service and my meal there on our first night was delicious.  I’m too tired to be adventurous. I’ll have the same this time.  It’s a lovely stand alone meal with the chicken and a good range of seasonal veges.  Totally delicious. Our waitress recognizes us from the other day and seems more relaxed dealing with us.  Not that there was any problem the other day. Just the subtle difference that familiarity brings.

The kitchen has advised that in the time, we should just have mains. Good advice. We’re done in plenty of time to get over, pick up our tickets and find our seats without rushing.  The Concertgebouw is a beautiful performance hall. Very tasteful. Really well maintained.  There’s a good crowd tonight. Not quite a sell out, you could still have got good seats at the last minute judging by the empty seats.  There’s a lengthy announcement only in Dutch.  Then the performer comes down the stairs to an enthusiastic welcome.  Between pieces he gets up and heads back up the stairs. Then he comes back down and plays another piece.  In this way we get through the formal program and then we enter the ritual of encores.  We actually enjoyed the encores more than the programmed pieces.  Marvellous. The acoustics are fabulous as the Concertgebouw is well known for. Great evening. A short walk home. Sleep. Please god let us sleep. 

Day 19 - Anne Frank House, Het Schip, WWII and the Holocaust walk, dinner at Bussia

Saturday 14th April 2012

Dreadful night’s sleep. Thank god we went to sleep fairly early because noise outside our window woke me several times and from about 3 am was fairly consistent until morning.  Every time you think they  have shut up and gone away, up it starts again.  Oh well, it’s an ill wind and all that. I did manage to make some progress on the journal.

Hubby did manage to get back to sleep so I rouse him just after 7 so we can have some brekky and get to the Anne Frank House in time for our 9am time slot.  This is our first breakfast here at Hotel Fita and we’ve been looking forward to it.  There’s a good array of cereals, yoghurt, nuts, dried fruit and juice and across on the other table there is a basket of pastries… and… well I don’t really notice because I’ve been mesmerized by the evil pastry hypnotism fairy.  I decide to sample just a teeny bit of yoghurt and fruit with a little muesli and nuts.. and just one pastry.. just one…I know the dutch pancakes here are reputed to be good. Got to save room. Oh yes. The dutch pancakes are yummy.. and the pastries… mmm delectable.  But I rouse from my trance with a start. We’ve got to get out of here.  I leave hubby to take his own time over the bacon and eggs he found in a bain-marie on the sideboard.  Just a teeny bit of work to do to nail another day’s report.

We’re off and walking to the tram stop by 8:30 and on the tram 8:41 rattling our way to Dam Square.  We’re rushing and I am inhibited in my appreciation of the little things.  As it is our first trip on this route we need to identify the correct tram stop, but Hubby has this sorted in no time. He’s proving exceedingly useful in this regard I have to say.  My sense of direction is still woeful.  He seems to be coping much better.  This I feel obliged to say is something of a role reversal. Always good to experience what life is like in the other person’s shoes.

I have been studying the map though and we rush across Dam Square without really taking anything in. Living embodiments of the travel adage.. less is more… less rush, more experience..or perhaps more retained experience at least.  It’s not long before we are relieved of the need to stand on street corners map in hand turning it this way and that and handing it from one to the other and back again.  Street signs to the various tourist attractions. Better still, they are street signs with encouraging distance estimations on them.  At this rate we might get there in time.

Our first visual inkling that we are approaching the appropriate place is the people.  There is already an immense queue.  A look at hubby.. aren’t you glad I booked online?  How was I feeling everyone?  Yes. That’s right. Smug and well prepared. But this time there’s also a good deal of pity in there.  Its cold.  If our host at the hotel is correct, if you didn’t pre book some time ago then your only option now is a 2 ½ hr long queue. He says that the Anne Frank House is booked solid for the next 5 weeks.  Now. The first challenge for the day, where among the throng of people is the entry… around the corner out of sight.  How to get through there.  We decide to travel in the slip-stream of an appropriately assertive woman coming through.  Hubby has our tickets in his hand ready to wave them at any official we see.  As we pass the crowd a thin drawn young woman clamours at me plaintively as we pass. … Do you have reservations?  Is it just generative memory that I see her in my mind with a pair of dark circled eyes? I nod.  An inexcusably smug and self satisfied nod.  I hope it’s not too visible.  She slips back into the crowd like a drowning individual in the sea of tourists.

We line up at the entrance for e-ticket holders.  We still have several minutes wait while a couple of groups are let in ahead of us. I drift across to take some photos. Then we slip into the warm cosy interior, have our ticket barcodes scanned, grab the guide book and follow the direction indicated to us.  The tour experience runs one way through a series of rooms that mostly contain quotes from Anne Frank’s diary. Initially you are walking through the premises were the secret annexe was located and the rooms that Anne wrote about in her diary.  There are some artefacts to see along the way. One of the elements I found very interesting was the brief video recordings of interviews with people who knew Anne including a close friend who had contact with her when she was in the camp.  After the introductory section you pass through the doorway and the bookcase that hid it, into the annexe itself.  Walking into the room that Anne shared you see her collection of pictures she had assembled from various magazines and newspapers. Movie stars such as Ray Milland and Greta Garbo and Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret.  My mind is thrown to the room at Blickling Hall that had collectible prints pasted to the walls.  The juxtaposition of the context of the creation of the two rooms serves to highlight the injustices that are so common to human experience.

I think perhaps the most affecting room of all is the room occupied by Peter van Pel with the ladder that rises through to the attic showing the window through which they watched the outside world, the blue sky and gulls and the beautiful tree (which is unfortunately no longer in the yard).  The gulls are still in Amsterdam.  Most of the Jews are gone, never to return.

When you have made your way through the rooms of the secret annexe you move beyond to the building next door where additional exhibition space is located.  The final space has an interactive display. Various modern day scenarios relating to prejudice and persecution of innocent people are outlined and the audience is requested to vote yes or no to questions posed at the end of each scenario.  The different screens display the text in different languages. They don’t ask the questions audibly however, they are only printed on the screen, so you do need to find the screen that is displaying the text in a language you can read.

When I read the reviews on the Anne Frank House online a common comment was that it is very moving to visit there.  Those are the best words to describe the experience.  I was glad that I re-read Anne’s diary before visiting. This made it easier for me to picture the people there in the annex, but also in the more recent editions of the published diary content that Otto Frank had edited from the diary was reinserted and you get a much more complete picture of a young teenage girl.  Her concerns and thoughts are much as any girl of her age in any era.  This helps to bring the tragedy even closer to home. I would encourage anyone to reread the newest edition if they have only read the book a long while ago.  Exit is through a gift shop which mostly stocks books and other material directly relevant to the hiding place and the diary. We make a few purchases and head out into the street, feeling pretty sombre and quiet.  I notice that true to the advice on the museum website our visit has taken an hour once inside.  It seems almost like an obscenity to observe that as far as hiding places or experiences go the people hiding in the annex were lucky.  As appalling as it is that any person should have to live in the dark for two years in close confinement, others had an even rougher time of it on their way to death under the Nazi regime.

Our next commitment today is at Het Schip.  We have booked places on the 11am English language tour.  It’s now 10:15 and I have calculated that this will give us time to wander down through the Jordaan on the way over there.  No particular agenda in mind for the wander we mosey down quite streets in a fairly direct route towards our ultimate destination.  We come to Lindengracht and we decide.. well actually I decide and Hubby follows.. to walk through the market that lines the entire length of the street.  It’s an extraordinary market.  The range of things on sale is quite remarkable and there is no “zoning” applied so while in one stall there may be clothes, the stall next door could be a cheese vendor or soaps and shampoos.  You could satisfy most of your common household needs in the market.  It’s frustrating not to have more time here to stop and perhaps select a small picnic for lunch but we’ve a way to go yet.  We do stop and buy a couple of little trinkets along the way though so our wandering wasn’t completely without result for the vendors along the way.

We emerge from the market and conduct our map gazing ritual before heading on.  Nearby a small musical ensemble is setting up as we walk away we hear the band striking up some pretty reasonable jazz.  Great market!  We decide that our simplest route is to head down Haarlemerdijk.  Good decision. Haarlemerdijk is like an upmarket version of the informal tent arrangement in Lindengracht.  Fashion shops, bakers, cheese vendors, hardware, this traditional shopping street beats Westfields hands down.. though I might change my story if it was snowing or something. 

From the map it’s not clear where we need to go to get across the railway lines other than a couple of major roads with an underpass. Fortunately from Haalemerplein Amsterdam’s handy tourist attraction direction signs pick us up and our mapguide can be retired for a while.  Haarlemerplein is dominated by a large ornate gateway that looks quite old.  It is marred by graffiti and litter.  I wonder what it is. It certainly isn’t treated with any kind of respect.  I’ve no time to linger. We’re in a desperate rush now to get to Het Schip in time for the tour departure.

The signage bids us walk down through Westerpark. It feels like we’re getting out into the “real” Amsterdam out here. Lots of people jogging or riding along with the kids. Walking dogs. We pass a puppy training class where puppies of all sorts are sitting comfortably on little blankets provided by their owners to save them from the cold bare ground.  The leader of the glass says something in Dutch and the group laughs. I rush on.  Just before a change of route is required another sign directs us to a pedestrian underpass and then down Zaanstraat.  As we walk I notice that buildings all along the way look pretty ornate.  In an open square in the sunshine a little dark skinned boy is playing on a nifty double swing. His dad is sitting over against the building in the sun looking on.  I must get a picture of that on the way back. It would be nice to have a picture of the boy, identity unclear from the back, but I don’t know how his dad would feel about that!

We arrive at the entrance to the museum and the door is shut.  Hubby looks about at the signage and rings the bell.  The door is of course unlocked so we feel a tad foolish when a man opens the door for us. Doh. There’s a few people in the ex-post office. The young man behind the counter processes our entry and says he’s running the tour but is running a bit late on commencing.  Running late?  Thank God!  Take your time!  Our soon to be guide recognizes our accent as Australian and checks with us before marking the appropriate square on his statistical records. In due course it becomes apparent that all those assembled are here for the tour.  We start where we are. In what was until 1999 still a working post office.  We get the run down on the Amsterdam school and the architect who designed Het Schip.  We are fascinated as our guide, who is an architecture student, decodes the symbolism in the design around us.  It’s brilliant and unlike the symbolism in other architecture movements which drew it’s symbolism from classical or religious inspirations, at Het Schip inspiration was drawn from function. So, for example, the decorative border tiles represent postage stamps.  The room is full of clever references.  As is inevitable the social, legal, political and architectural context of the building’s construction and the motivations of the architect are critical to understanding the design and these are duly explained as we move outside to admire various features of the building and make comparisons to the other significant buildings nearby.  Oh look! Different hook style! The tour is simply fascinating. We are both enjoying it immensely.  Het Schip was built as social housing by the socialist housing association Eigen Haard which means “own fire” a reference to the objective for everyone to have their own “home and hearth” as it were.  As other entities like church groups also practice, Eigen Haard wanted their development to represent them and their beliefs. For example the bricks of Het Schip are red. This is not the local colour which is a brown colour represented on the nearby complex. These red bricks had to be imported from several hundred kilometers away. The many decorative features of the building also made it very expensive. Having worked our way around to the entry the next treat in store for us is an inspection of one of the little apartments. It is decorated with items of the period and the Amsterdam school. It is a very nice little apartment. The kitchen is particularly lovely.  It is precisely the sort of kitchen I absolutely adore with double french doors opening to a little courtyard.  The museum has also acquired the apartment upstairs and for access purposes has opened a new door into the hallway leading upstairs where further displays are located and there is access to look up inside the tower which has come to symbolize the Amsterdam school and this building in particular.  But wait there’s more.  As we emerge from the apartment we continue examining the details around the building and observe how the newer section embraces what was a newly constructed school that the architect was told had to stay.  And then its in through the museum café to their little garden. The Amsterdam school designed everything for their developments including street furniture.  Electricity boxes and a public urinal, post and money drop boxes (whose scheme is explained).  When the tour is finished we head back over to the entry to browse the books.  If you can’t make an English language tour, there are a couple of very handy alternatives if you want to take an architectural tour of Amsterdam and/or the Amsterdam school.  For €2 you can pick up a brochure about a walk around Het Schip. This also includes a large illustration of the whole building as well as the various architectural features so this made an excellent souvenir.  Another, free option, is the leaflet for a bike tour of the Amsterdam school buildings in the city area. It is branded Iamsterdam so presumably you may be able to pick it up elsewhere in tourist outlets as well.  Highly recommended.  Our most expensive purchase was a guide to the Architecture of Amsterdam in English (€29.50 and hardcover) and even in the short time we’ve had to look over it (eg over lunch) we have gained some useful and interesting information about buildings that we’ve already noticed walking around.  It was a near run thing when I was planning whether to allocate precious time to visiting Het Schip.  We are both very glad we have done this tour. 

Now. On to the next item on the manifesto.  Today is about as finely tuned as we get. Our next commitment is at 2pm and for that we need to be back at the Anne Frank House. Meanwhile, we need to get some lunch. We decide that rather than explore new routes we will retrace our steps as that will be quicker. Back through Westerpark where we detour slightly to get a photo of the lake, fountain and birds.  Then back to Haarlemerplein.  I’ve already noticed in our architecture guide that the disrespected edifice is a “neoclassical gatehouse for the assessment and collection of local taxes…… It was restored and converted to dwellings in 1986”.

With a little more time to appreciate our surroundings I notice a cute piece of public art.

Then it’s back up lovely Haarlemerdijk and onto Prinsengracht by the canal where once again I take the opportunity to admire the features on the buildings and capture a particularly good aspect that captures the unlikely angles of the Amsterdam streetscape.

Ah yes. Have I mentioned the hooks?  Hubby and I read the book Amsterdam by Geert Mak.  In it one of the interesting little tid bits provided was an explanation of the hooks you see at the top of buildings.  These hooks are for hoisting furniture up so that it can be moved into the upper floors which are difficult or perhaps impossible to access via the usual routes.  We have observed that Amsterdam stairs tend to be very steep and narrow.  In many of the buildings the windows also can be completely removed….but I digress. Hubby has developed an intense fascination with the hooks. He’s on the look out for new styles all the time.

So, back to our afternoon’s program.  We pass on by the queue that is forming outside the Pancake Bakery and take a turn into Leliegracht.  We’re heading for number 60. Spanje en van Twist cafe.  People are sitting out in the sunshine, but I prefer to eat indoors.  We check that we will be able to eat in the short time we have left and settle in. Eventually our food arrives but time is now desperately close. We are obliged to wolf down our lovely quiche and salad and ravioli daily specials and hurry around the corner to meet up with Peter for the Holocaust and World War II walk.  We have the devil’s own job spotting Peter. He and our small group of fellow walkers look just like everyone else and it is only at the last minute, after lookin’ lookin’ lookin’ that I see the blue folder and we join the gang just after 2pm. The walk is set down for two hours, but we end up spending the next three hours wandering the streets of Amsterdam having holocaust sites and memorials pointed out with the added element of historical or war time photos or paintings compared to the current scene to illustrate a point being made. 

Again, I’m not going to give away all the things that Peter has pulled together for the tour, but I will just say that having the sights around Dam Square pointed out and the explanation of the huge memorial are highlights, but there is much more. Not to mention the enjoyment that is to be gained just by being in the group and having the opportunity to talk to a local with a particular interest and expertise in history and specifically WWII history. There is more than just WWII and the holocaust though. We also learn other fascinating things, like what the doorways marked with skulls are, and we have a look at some hidden places too.  It’s a very enjoyable afternoon. 

The tour ends by visiting some holocaust memorials (of which Amsterdam now abounds) up in the area of the Botanical Gardens.  At our second last stop, Peter mentions that to some people, including one of his Jewish friends, the memorial thanking the people who hid Jews from the Nazi’s is inappropriate and part of a whitewashing of the Dutch role in the holocaust.  This is a point of view that was also expressed by Geert Mak in his book.  As we walk the group gets into an interesting discussion and some hard questions are asked by some in our group. I am glad because I’ve been walking along thinking about the issues of the eye for an eye revenge that was perpetrated against ethnic Germans across eastern Europe but that seems to get very little publicity.  We have a very open and interesting discussion. The tour winds up and we head home for a rest before heading out to dinner.  Hubby and I chat about the war and the ethnic cleansing at the end and after the war and why people don't generally talk about it. 

Hubby rests, but no sleep. It’s pretty noisy in our room due to activity outside and this time inside as well, though they may not realize we are here.  I “fart about” not resting.  Well, at least I’m comfortably relaxing if not lying down.  By the way.. apparently the Cambridge notes “fart about” as an offensive term… well well. It’s common enough in Australia and no-one there seems to find it offensive.  It means  “to waste time doing silly or unnecessary things”.

All too soon it’s time for us to head out to dinner.  We hop on the tram and this time alight at Spui as instructed by the Amsterdam journey planner. Our destination for this evening is Bussia fine Italian Restaurant on Reestraat. Fine it certainly is. We are guided up to our table past a clear view of the kitchen at the downstairs tables and through several opportunities for hubby to bang his head. Warnings from our guide duly noted.  We make ourselves comfortable and in due course are given a run down on the dining options.  There is the a la carte option with choices on the printed menu or you can opt for the menu del giorno. Choose how many courses to include from a list provided verbally.  Mmm everything on the list sounds great.  We are given a few minutes to consider. As we peruse the menu I note that if you choose to just have one main you will be charged €5 for linen and silverware.  No risk of us copping that charge.  We go for the 6 course menu del giorno €58 pp.  It’s a long pleasurable evening of gluttony and conversation.  A bowl of never ending breads is provided. Oil and balsamic are on the table to help yourself.  Our first delectable morsel is, somewhat disconcertingly, delivered in a little petrie dish.  It’s a work of artistry and I couldn’t begin to tell you exactly what it was now despite the detailed description given when it was delivered.  “Yum” is all we can say now.  We savour our way through quail, conchi pasta, risotto, fish and veal before reaching the desserts well after 10 pm.  My favourite course was the quail which as best I could record it was something like Fillet of Quail breast with confit quail leg, two deep fried quail eggs, basil foam and some tasty cold stuff which hubby thought was sort of like mayonnaise but it melted as it sat.  The quail was very very good.  Mmmm… so was the fish.  Monk fish and red gurnard. I don’t usually like fish but this was very very good fish… mmm

As we await our bill, we observe the waitress knocking back any suggestion of a tip from some American ladies across at the next table.  “We do not do that here. We are not allowed” she says in a firm voice that brooks no opposition. The American lady looks like she thinks she has landed on Mars. 

It feels like a long walk back to the tram stop.  It’s been a long if awesome day.  Aagh. Better get off to sleep. We’ve probably only got about 4 hrs until the dickheads assemble to wake everyone up at 3:30am. 

Day 18 - Aalsmeer Flower Auctions; Keukenhof Gardens; Dinner at De Witte Uyl

Friday 13th April 2012

I stir. I check the time. 06:40.  Aagh.  Rouse the sleeping spouse.  We need to be out of here asap.  Today we are going to Aalsmeer and the famous flower auctions.  Resist the delectable aromas emanating from the kitchen. Forget that our host is a trained chef. On your bike. …… although this is Amsterdam I don’t mean that literally.  Just before we duck out the door, I pop into the kitchen and make sure we’re not expected for brekky… aaggh, it smells even better in there. Sigh.

We retrace our steps of last evening and head down to the bus stop in Hobbemastraat.  It’s very quiet and cold thismorning. Only the birds singing and chattering in the trees and the sound of hubby’s shoes ringing on the pavement.  The birds are chasing eachother. Perhaps it helps them keep warm.  Our breath hangs in clouds on the air. 

The bus shelter has the various timetables and route numbers displayed so it is not at all difficult to figure out where we are supposed to be.  Once again we part with 4 Euros each. A nagging voice in at the back of my mind tells me that there may be a better way to handle the transport cost. Nagging voice once more told to shut it.  We take our seats on the bus as it gets underway.  Everything is a new adventure but even odd or dull things are exciting when you’ve never seen a place before.  At first we pass through an area that seems very square and grey.  Industrial in look though perhaps not in fact.  Someone craved some excitement when deciding the colours for the VUmc Cancer centre. It is in bold stripes of red and blue with regular windows.  Just as I am starting to wonder how it could be tolerable to live in such a geometric landscape we enter an area of attractive domestic housing. There seems to be a high level of competence in the community for plant training techniques such as espalier.  Neat gardens on newly constructed homes which seem to me to be in a distinctive Dutch style.  We have noticed here and previously in England that people seem to like their new houses to be constructed in a simple traditional sort of style. 

The suburban landscape suddenly opens into fields with chimneys releasing clouds over in the distance.  The bus driver announces the next stop as being the main entrance to Flora Holland.  The bus stops. Half the bus stands up ready to hop out.  Hubby is quick to spot the signs directing tourists to where they need to be.  We navigate around a large group and pay our entrance fee (€5).  The lady behind the counter hands me over a couple of documents and points up the stairs. Your tour begins at the top of the stairs. "The auction rooms are at the end of the corridor. There are plenty of flowers today so no need to rush, but don’t take too long about getting to the auction room."  Noted.

When we get into the “corridor” what we find is a long air bridge which passes above the warehouse floor. Stack after stack of flowers or trolleys is arranged. There is seemingly no end to the warehouse. It shows no sign of ending for as far as I can see. Forklifts and road trains of flower containers wiz this way and that.  Hubby comments: “It’s like dodgems with flowers”.  We walk. We pause very briefly to read the interpretive panels placed along the walkway.  We stop to try and capture the scene in a picture.  A photo seems inadequate.  A lady ahead of me is stopped and is simply using the video to try and capture the breadth of activity.  The air is full of the smell of fresh flowers.  Some of the workers wear white masks. There must be a lot of people employed here.  The floor seems to have a great number of people moving flower containers this way and that.

We eventually reach the auction room and we observe the scene. The set up is like a tiered lecture theatre with two huge screens at the front of the room.  These are the auction clocks.  We have been handed a paper that tells you about these screens and what the various numbers mean.  Hundreds of transactions can occur in a minute or so.  Auctions are conducted in the Dutch manner where they start at the maximum price and first person to bid has them.  On the tiers are seats with computers where the buyers participate. It’s all very quiet. Only those with an inclination to study the figures on the screen would ever guess that anything much at all is actually happening in there. Everything is conducted electronically so there is no auctioneer with entertaining patter.  As soon as the purchase is made there is someone standing buy to move the containers purchased into the order for the particular buyer.  When we first arrived the auction room was having a break.  Action on the floor was fairly low quay.  When the auctions get going however the activity on the floor is frenetic with vehicles and people buzzing around.  There are several windows where you can observe the auctions in progress. People tend to crowd the first window because they don’t know it won’t be their only opportunity.  It took us about 20 minutes to get to the first auction window.  We did pause briefly to take a photo or read a sign but over all I’d say we were moving at a steady pace.  It’s a mind bogglingly large warehouse.  We continue back on the return leg and would you believe it they have an on-site hairdressing salon!

Separately for the most part because we have skillfully managed to lose eachother in the crowd.  We are all done with Flora Holland by about 9 am.  The bus stop is right outside the main entrance.  We catch the 172 bus on the return leg.  These buses leave very regularly.  The transport journey planner has said that we should change to a route 300 bus to get more quicly to Schipol and thence to Keukenhof. However when the time comes we’re not entirely sure where we are supposed to do the change and we are enjoying looking around were we are so we decide to just return to familiar territory where we can easily regroup if things go wrong. No worries there. This is easily done.

We go straight across to the stop where the 197 will leave from.  There’s a 197 already sitting waiting there. As we approach the doors slide closed and we await the next service.  This takes about 15 minutes.  As we returned from Aalsmeer and wait for the Schipol bus we note the growing queues at the Van Gogh Museum and the Rijksmuseum. Mostly elderly people so far thismorning.

The 197 bus is quite full when we board.  At the next stop two more people get on and the bus is full.  No pick up for passengers from then on.  Passengers at Concertgebouwplein are left standing at the stop looking rather dismayed.  At least it’s not too long to the next bus.

Having to stop at the airport is quite convenient today.  Our universal currency adaptor gadget doesn’t fit the notebook cord (oops) and we need some more Euros.  Easy to do here.

Errands completed we follow the signs to the Keukenhof shuttle which is quite a distance from the regular bus stops. The queue snakes around the corner of the building and out of sight.  There’s nothing for it but to get on the end of it.  Nearby there is an intriguing bus. Presumably amphibious it has “The Floating Dutchman – the most splashing way to explore Amsterdam” in huge lettering on the side.  Its very large for an amphibious vehicle! I decide that I will google it.  (PS I did and it looks like fun.)

There’s luggage trolleys abandoned here and there and some nifty bike lockers.  The crowd is cheerful and smiling despite the waiting and the grey cold weather. People talk and smile, anticipating a great day out. I feel rather than see the sun break through the clouds.  The sunbeams warm my back.  The queue moves steadily.  I entertain myself by trying to pay attention to the details.  Caps, beanies, bare heads.  Blonds, brunettes, black hair with a nice auburn rinse.  Fur lined hoods and quilted jackts.  Polka dot socks.  Chatter in a multitude of languages.  The queue moves steadily and we round the corner in sight of the bus. No sun here just a promise of nearing departure to warm me.  The bus is loading. 5 steps and stop. 3 steps and stop. Hubby jigs up and down on his toes and estimates we’re probably another bus away from departure.  An Asian girl strides past confidently in black ankle boots that have large tassles attached. The tassles flick and dance with each step. Extrovert shoes!  She wears them well.  The fully laden bus thrums to life with a wiff of exhaust and drives away.  We’ll be on the next one.  A lady comes along the queue asking for tickets. She’s carrying a stamp and a board to stamp the papers against.  Dismay as a group of Asian girls just ahead of us discover they need tickets already and cannot buy them on the bus.  False eyelashes blink and turn to the people in front of us, questioning. After waiting in the queue the news is just too aweful to accept immediately.  Most of the group rush off to the tourist information shop to address the problem.  The ticket lady gets to the remaining two girls.  There’s a no nonsense response “You must go buy tickets (wave of the arm) and join the end of queue. That is the rules. Too busy to wait here.”  Oh, how I feel for those girls! 

Perhaps I’m just more patient now than before we left Australia on a long haul flight. I find I can tolerate the queuing quite well. It’s only about 25 minutes between joining the queue and driving away.  It could have been a lot worse.  We are only the second couple to board the bus and have our pick of seating places. We go for the left hand side in the raised section at the back. We have traced over the same ground on our bus trips so far and rather than finding it tedious, I’m feeling happy to actually be able to remember things along the way. I’m starting to feel more like I know where we are. 

It’s not long before we’re in new territory.  There’s a ripple of excitement through the bus as colourful stripes in red, blue, yellow and pink appear.  I mentally slap myself. We are on the WRONG side.  How frustrating when we could have sat anywhere.  All the bulb fields are visible on the RIGHT hand side of the bus, so no photos. Sigh.  Oh well. At least we have a seat!

From fields of flowers to fields of coaches.  Holy Moly!  The bus pulls up and pours the latest wave of a human tide out into the reception area of the main entrance.  The queue looks long and I wait behind a large group while hubby does a reccie to make sure I’m in the right place.  Nope.  They’re not in the queue just very near it. There’s a separate queue for e-tickets and this is short and moves quickly. We’re in. We’re in.  We are in the most beautiful spring garden in the world. That’s what Keukenhof says about itself. At this moment I believe them.  

There’s a Dutch mechanical street organ playing and central to the area is a large pond with a miniature El Alamein Fountain in the middle of it.  Glorious spring flowers are arranged in the garden beds round about.  I almost cannot believe I am here.  Keukenhof is living up to all my expectations.

As we are quite happy to be here after 3pm when we understand crowds reduce, we are happy to start by ticking off lunch before the eating places get too crowded.  I head into a self service café. Short queue. Hubby says he liked the look of the more upmarket looking option across the courtyard so we go and have a look. It looks busy. I approach the girl near the service desk and ask if they have seats for two. She looks at me strangely and peers around the corner. “ya, there’s plenty of seats” she says in a puzzled, offhand sort of tone which I, with some generosity of spirit I have to say, interpret as “welcome, just take a seat anywhere and we’ll be with you in a minute”.   Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be generous.  We find a seat and make ourselves comfortable. Menu is already on the table.  Do we order here or at the bar I ask. Hubby’s seen the girl taking orders so clearly we just wait. The lampshades are nice. Circular tubes with the interior side a forest of attractive black and white tree trunks. It matches the raw tree trunks that form a partition between areas of the café.  It’s a nice ambience in here... and we wait some more.  The people at the table near us are having the apple cake.  After about 5 minutes we decide we’d better time it. We chat. Increasingly the chat moves onto how long we are prepared to wait.  After 15 mins no-one has said boo to us, or given any indication that we are on their radar at all.  The risk assessement kicks off in earnest. The people sitting behind us finished their food a while ago. The man is looking at his watch and looking for a waitress. Not having much joy. Service attention seems to be mainly on the outdoor area. Tables vacated and promptly cleaned.  A woman asks if she can sit at the table being cleaned and then proceeds to do so.  Food has been trickling out of the kitchen.  If it takes this long to order, how long does it take to food delivery and then to payment. I recall the 3 hr lunch we once had in Mudgee. Too much opportunity cost. We head back to the self serve place across the way where we share a chicken and bacon roll, a sausage roll and a grilled Panini.  They sell freshly squeezed orange juice so I opt for that. Hubby had a Pepsi… which can only mean that Coke is not available. We head to a table with our wallets €20.20 lighter.  The food is OK.  If you’re one of those people who love the pastry on a sausage roll but just tolerate the filling, you’d love the sausage roll here. Beautiful pastry. Almost no filling at all.  I don’t miss it.  :o) 

 Lunch over and done with it’s time to explore.  At this point, and for quite a while on the day I was thinking all I could possibly say in this report is that words are simply not adequate. The gardens defy description.  I’m almost in tears of joy as we wander through the Beatrix and Juliana areas of the gardens. I’m so glad I didn’t die without seeing this.  Keukenhof is a very beautiful place even without the spring bulbs.  These queenly sections are overhung by mature deciduous trees. Currently bare of leaves, the branches filter the light creating an ethereal beauty.  Strategically placed sculptures, ponds, fountains and everywhere named varieties of bulbs cultivated to perfection.  Birdsong.  Fragrance.  Delightfully cool for strolling hand in hand.  You can’t rush. You simply cannot rush. I can barely tear myself away from one glorious scene to discover the next.

The display designers have worked immaculate artistry everywhere we look.  Graceful arcing curves across slopes.  Crossing beds in contrasting colours. Large beds sculpted through colour and height into a floral landscape.  At one point we stop and behold with incredulity beds of perfect dark pink tulips with petals that look like polished silk.  And the hyacinths!  Oh my lord the hyacinths!  Purple sensation is well named!  And Daffodils.  ;o) Have I mentioned I love daffodils? ;o))   A reasonable number of beds of tulips are not yet in flower, the green of their vigorous leaves offsetting varieties with an earlier display.  But oh the daffodils!  Named varieties of every sort.  Pink ones, white ones, miniatures, they are displayed at their very best.  Spring blossom trees are weeping floral tears speckling the grass all around with natural confetti.  There is something here for everyone. Bold contrasts of purple against yellow. Soft pastel confections. 

We arrive at the Willem Alexander pavilion. Hubby asks “what’s in this?”.  “ I don’t know, let’s go have a look”.   Given the above ravings.. I’m sure those who know Keukenhof will be chuckling in satisfaction at this point.  The Willem Alexander pavilion is full, full of spectacular flowers.  Of course there are the tulips and daffodils, there’s also hippeastrums (which always make me think of my grandfather who loved “hippies”) and hydrangeas with heads both perfect and supersized.  

I thinkof mum again as we admire a frilly convection of a tulip that has been named "Queensland".

We wander back outside completely dazzled.  We head to the windmill, which I’ve noticed is the departure point for the whisper boat tours through the bulb fields.  I reassess my level of interest. Why would I want to leave these gardens?? No. What time I have will be spent in the gardens themselves.  There are more food vendors here and they smell great.  Hubby succumbs to the temptation of the waffles and so we share one. They are thick and hearty served just with cream.

Checking our map which we have had to purchase with the guide to the gardens for 4 euros, we turn to discover new territory and a view over a nearby bulb field full of blue hyacinths.  The clouds reflect in the dark still water.Photographers are lined along the edge of the bushes aiming long lenses which are being adjusted for perfect focus.  My own attempts are much more haphazard, but I'm not unhappy with the result. 

We continue our systematic exploration. And soon come to a large area for kids.  There’s a petting zoo.  I photograph the kune kune pigs for daughter 2.  There’s a big miffy statue. Some Japanese children race over to it excitedly to get their picture taken with it. I was photographing it and feel bad as clearly the little girls mum tells her to get out of my picture.  I would have been happy to have her in the picture. Such a radiant smile. Miffy was lucky to get such a lovely loving embrace from such a cute little girl.  I get out of the way and look back as mum and dad and the kids smile and laugh and capture happy Miffy moments.

There’s great play equipment in this area too. A huge slide.  A long flying fox and more besides. There’s fun for all the family at Keukenhof.

There are crowds of people, but you aren’t allowed to walk on most of the grass areas, so the number of people around isn’t a problem. Not today at any rate. The camera is working overtime. I know that photos will not come even halfway to conveying the scenes before us.  I turn to hubby “Oh I would love to show mum this place. She would LOVE it here.”  He replies “Well I’m not into flowers and I’m I’M having a great time. It’s pretty glorious!”  I resolve that I have to send mum a postcard from Keukenhof.  “is there a postbox here?”  Hubby proves his worth. He has noticed that there is indeed a post box near the main entrance.

Before we leave I am determined to go back through the Beatrix and Juliana areas. It’s after three O’clock and the number of visitors does seem to be thinning a little.  We have dinner reservations so we have to leave by 4pm or not too long after.  I still have my souvenirs to buy and a postcard for mum.  4:15 pm by the time we are actually heading for the bus.  The queue is not bad.  Luckily some people opted to wait for the next bus rather than stand on the way back to Schipol. We are the last people aboard.  Smooth connection at Schipol for the 197 bus just a few metres from where the 58 bus dropped us. We are back at Hotel Fita by 5:30. Perfect timing for getting changed and walking over to dinner.

So, where is dinner I hear you ask.  De Witte Uyl over at 26 Franz Halstraat.  No issues or delays walking over, the restaurant is easy to find and the terrain is perfectly flat of course!  It takes us a bit less than 15 minutes without hurrying particularly, but it is quite cold and we’re dressed in accordance with our plan that we’ll be spending the evening indoors, so there’s an incentive for not daudling. We head through the park. Past the museumplein, across the grass from the Concertgebouw. I wish I’d brought the camera.

We step into the cosy warmth of De Witte Uyl and are shown to our seats.  It has a wonderful romantic ambience. Candle light. Soft jazz music playing. Our seating is part of a larger table arrangement but is given privacy by a collection of bottles and a large vase of tulips.  The table behind hubby (where I can admire it) has a huge vase of perfect pink anenomes.  I love anenomes. The vases seem like the perfect end to a wonderful day full of flowers.  Our welcome treat is some “poultry pate, it has some mushrooms in it”. I’m not usually into pate or mushrooms.  I tell the grumbling voice in my head to shut it once again and give it a try.  Delicious.

Next we have breads. Delicious, soft warm wholemeal bread with home made herb oil. Delicious.

Somewhere in between we have been brought the menu.  Dishes here are in between starter and main size so you order two from the whole list.  There’s three special options.  All look tempting.  In the end though you have to make a choice. Hubby went for the special Dutch shrimps with watercress, lettuce and avocado served with a warm leek and egg sauce and a croquet of crab and roasted bell pepper (The croquet was very yummy) followed by Rosti of potato spring onion, ginger and coriander served with a herb and cress salad, a poached egg and a sauce hollandaise.  I opted for Ravioli served with gorgonzola and candied onion in a crème of smoked carrot and basil followed by soufflé of broccoli and almonds served with mange touts.  We both enjoyed our meals. Hubby won though.  Will we have desset?  No prizes for guess work on that score. Hubby was sorely tempted by the profiteroles but succumbed to my suggestion of trying the Grand dessert which was 5 small items:  a small chocolate and ginger crème brulee, a choc mint gelato sort of thing, a very narrow slice of cheesecake, a small profiterole which seemed to have been filled with ice cream and in the centre a very potent shot of liquer based liquid.  I opted for the meringue layered with cheesecake and raspberries.  Phew. I won the final round.. well.. I think so anyway!

Another pleasant walk home were settled down and relaxing by 8:30. Just what we need after such an early start. 

Day 17 - London to Amsterdam

Thursday 12 April 2012

No photos again today. We have foolishly stowed the camera in an inaccessible spot.  Sigh.  We have a flight to Amsterdam at just after four o’clock. It has always been our intention to do as little as possible today and leave as late as possible for the airport. I’m hoping to catch up on some journaling along the way with so much a waiting about.  The morning proceeds smoothly and I diligently type away. Keyboard is smoking as I try to get as much recorded as I can.  I’m way behind.

Seeing as our stay was so long, and we’ve been nice :o) we are allowed to hang around until 12 oclock.  We’re heading out the door just as housekeeping is arriving to fix the room up for the next guests.  We’ve really enjoyed our stay at the Alhambra Hotel. Great, convenient location. Lovely breakfasts. Nice staff. Excellent value. What more could one want?

Easy peasy to just walk with our luggage across to the station and get ourselves out to Heathrow.  We seek out the baggage weighing area to check how we’re going with the souvenirs.  Still well under the limits. Excellent.  Check in. Drop bags. Several hours to kill.  Ah. Looky there. Carluccio’s.  Very busy. Looks great.  It’s lunch time. Not a wasted day then! We wander in and are seated.  We are seated next to a rather loud man who is having a business meeting with a fellow who sounds like he may be Italian.  During the course of our meal we get a lengthy earful about refrigerated trailers and sustainable design blah blah.  It’s a virtual monologue.  Our noisy neighbour barely shuts his mouth the whole hour or so we are there.

We had a lovely meal. Unrestrained. We get to Amsterdam quite late and are expecting dinner might not be anything substantial.  Hubby goes for the calamari and I the bruscetta. Hubby wins. His calamari is really nice. My bruscetta is ok but nothing to write home about.  Next we have decided to share the trio deal for pastas and thereby try a few.  Lasagne, venison tortellini and ricotta ravioli.  All nice, but it was a mistake to get both the tortellini and the ravioli.  Should have gone for something different. Maybe carbonara.  It’s always hard to persuade Hubby to skip dessert.  That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.  I had the pink meringue with passionfruit cream and fresh raspberries. Except that the meringue was all hard and no soft element it was very similar to a pavlova.  Hubby had .. hmm. I think it was a chocolate bread and butter pudding and nice but I won. .. hubby can’t remember what it was or whether he enjoyed it.

It’s an uneventful flight. No delays. Easy arrival. Very simple quarantine. An honour system for customs again.  Then we’re off to find the 197 bus which we have been advised is the easiest way to get to Hotel Fita near the Rijksmuseum.  First however, we go to the tourist information place and buy an Iamsterdam card.  Cash only because the card machine is down.  Then back out to the bus.  It was a leap of faith deciding to get the bus.  I noted the lady at the next counter must have been asking for a ticket for some transfer service.  The girl serving looked at her and said “you know you can get the ordinary bus” “yes, but we have big luggage” replies the customer in what sounded like a Russian or east European accent.  Girl serving looks at her strangely and just sells her what she asked for.  We found out why when we got to the bus.  There is enough leg room for us to have our suitcases in front of us.  It’s just so easy to get on the bus with our luggage.  We are impressed!

As promised, the 197 quickly and easily drops us just down the street from Hotel Fita.  It’s a job getting the luggage up the front stairs though.  The Dutch seem to like very steep staircases with narrow treads. We press the buzzer and are greeted by Martijn who helps us with our luggage to our room which is the only room that is downstairs.  He uses the stairs as we continue to do throughout our stay but there is also a lift.  Our room is nicely appointed and cosy and we are quite content.  Martijn asks about our dinner plans and recommends a restaurant not far away called Bouf.  Hubby is sold. We’ll head down there. 

We forget to get the actual address and double back but then we successfully navigate our way beyond the bathtub shaped building.. and the supermarket, past the Concertgebouw. Great here we are. We go in and are seated at a pleasant table, our coats safety deposited on the coat rack behind us.  We skipped the starters seeing as how we had a large lunch.  For a main course I have the chicken breast filled with ricotta and tarragon and served with morel sauce, seasonal vegetables and mini potatoes €22.50. It was a delicious meal.  Hubby went for the Grilled scotch beef fillet with béarnaise sauce, seasonal vegetables and La Ratte potatoes €25  and was very happy with his too.  I was very slack and did not keep adequate notes and now look at the mess I’ve got myself in. Hubby says we had dessert but I have no memory of it at all.  We rack our brains and examine the website… hmm now I think about it I think hubby had the sticky toffee pudding with caramel sauce. Quite out of character and I had the dessert special which was a layered affair with meringue, cheesecake and berries.  Hubby won.  He’s tinny he is.

We gratefully sink into bed. No time to waste tomorrow is a big day. 

Day 16 - Tower of London, Charles Dickens Exhibition - Dinner at Kettner's and the Mousetrap

We drag ourselves down to brekky and potter about with this and that and finally get out and underway considerably later than the planned early start. No matter really. We do what we do.

Oh &$%*! I’ve left the camera on the bed.  Do we go back?  ???? We decide not.  I read about some guy with a famous blog or books or something who reckons he never takes photos because he observes things better without the camera.  I will experiment with this approach for one day.  No biggie (that’s Australian for "it’s not a big issue").

I’ve got itchy feet and I’m still disturbed by thoughts of the cruel history of the twentieth century.  It’s a simple matter to get ourselves to Tower Hill station.  Or should be.  We stop at Aldgate and an announcement comes over that the train ends here everyone get off.  We look at eachother.  Hubby says. It’s only one stop, lets walk.  Good thinking 99.  Oh. I see.  Hubby has a cunning plan.  He’s been carrying tomtom around in his, ahem, my manbag just waiting for an opportunity to employ satellite technology.  Oh for god’s sake would you put that bloody thing away.  Hubby has a mind of his own despite how things might look.  Tomtom stays out.  “It can’t get a signal unless it’s in the middle of the road” hubby comments.  Well that’s understandable seeing as it thinks we’re a car I suppose.   Reluctantly hubby lovingly puts poor tomtom back in her bed.  Meanwhile I don’t have much trouble navigating to the Tower with my handy mapguide. 

Walking towards Tower Hill we come to a big memorial looking thing with views over the Tower and a park with a children’s play area.  We congratulate ourselves for having walked this way.  There’s another merry go round which prompts a sadly predictable rant from me.  This round about is a platform of solid wood with no handles. We sit on the edge and propel ourselves around.  The disc is on a slope and the physics of the situation keep the speed at a moderate level as well as maintain momentum. It’s pretty clever. It is similar to one that we have in the (excellent) playground at our local botanic garden at home. 

Despite the hiccup and again quite by coincidence, we are here at precisely the time the London Walk of the Tower is due to meet so take a slight detour to check out the size of the group.  I have concluded that the consistently late start times for the London Walks are the product of an intimate knowledge of the behavior of travelers!  Big. Not ridiculous but at least big.  I’m a bit over the group thing so we decide to take a punt and try the Tower under our own steam.

We cross over to the large Tower plaza complex.  The queues are long to the ticket office.  We congratulate ourselves on our membership of the Historic Royal Palaces.  They said we will just wiz straight in and no queue.  Not so. We have to join another queue for entry. It looks distressingly long, but only takes about 5 minutes.  No biggie. Look, everyone else seems to have some sort of guide to the tower and/or audio guides. Hmm. We’re in but clueless. 

It’s almost time for the free walk with the Yeoman warder.  Assemble down in the moat please.  Today the moat is open apparently this isn’t always the case.  We wait. We check out the war engine on the grass. I imagine hurling sacks of something not terribly dangerous over the castle walls.  We wait some more. We observe the growing size of the group. Golly.  This walk is going to be reasonably large. I wonder if they’ll split it up.  We observe that the drainage pipes we were wondering about on our first day in London have VR on them.  So 19^th century then. 

At last, along comes our Yeoman warder.  Just the one. So, approximately 200 people or near enough traipse around the castle grounds, following our guide. Trying not to bump into too many people.  I think the fact that so many people decided they were getting enough out of it to persevere gives some indication how good this yeoman warder is.  He is loud. Impressively loud. To be a yeoman warder you have to have over 20 years of experience as a serving sergeant. Many of the warders have a higher service and rank than that.. colour sargeants or something like that.  Not only does this give the warders experience at giving loud instructions and information.. it makes them impressively good at handling large volumes of people.  This warder has a special talent as well. He’s really funny.  He makes jokes about everyone, nationalities, his outfit, he’s very very entertaining indeed.  Plus, the information he’s giving gives us some clue as to what is at the Tower to see. 

We head up out of the moat and through the original archway with 700 year old portcullis.  We look up as we pass.  Murder holes.  We’re finding that all the things we’ve been seeing have cross fertilized very nicely.  As the tour proceeds we hear about various executions and grisly stuff, which is what people know the tower for and why it is so notorious.  Among all of this we hear about some fellow who lead a rebellion who was tried before he arrived at the Tower so rather than being imprisoned he was taken from the river straight out to the execution spot (outside the tower) and publicly excecuted. No hanging about there. Nicely efficient.

The execution place in the Tower is a grassy open area which no has wonderful views of Tower Bridge.  I missed having my camera!! The execution site in the Tower would be quite moving except for the volume of people milling about and generally having a sort of festive attitude about them. I just found it too difficult in that environment to get myself in the appropriate head space to appreciate the somber nature of the place.

Tour concluded it’s up to us to decide what to do.  There’s a long queue for the crown jewels. Doesn’t look like its moving much.  How about we go check out the white tower.  To do this you follow a one way route so once you’re in you’re stuck you’ve just go to to see it through.  Don’t think you’ll pop in there in the 5 minutes before you leave for something else.  This is the case for everything we did at the Tower.  We think we took about 40 minutes in the White Tower. It’s got displays of armour and so on, but really, if you’ve seen the displays at Windsor and Hampton Court they’re pretty pale by comparison and for the most part arranged more like a museum, which is nowhere near so wonderful as at Windsor or Hampton Court.  There’s a good collection of captured cannons and they’re working on a parade of kings.  This will be a recreation of a once famous display. We don’t hang about in the White Tower. A quick look at the suits of armour, most other content duplicates stuff we have already learned or knew already, or is things I just can’t get into particularly today for some reason.

What now?  Hubby says Crown Jewels. The queue is even longer than it was before but it’s moving really quickly. We joined the queue at 12.40 and were out again by 1.25 so that’s what, 45 minutes for that.  When we come out the queue is out of sight.  Literally. The most remarkable thing in the crown jewels of course is to see the Cullinan diamond which is something like 530 carats and the world’s largest diamond  It’s also nice to see the various crowns of course and the orb.  No point going to the Tower and not seeing the crown jewels.  Oh, the other really impressive thing was the doors.  2000 kg each, this could be interpreted as a “yeah, look don’t bother” message to would be thieves.

We have other plans thisafternoon and not a lot of time left to spend here, but we decide we’ll have a look at the bloody tower.  This took 20 minutes including the queue. It’s only small.  Just a few small rooms really.  There’s a detailed display about the confinement of Sir Walter Raleigh, then you go into the final display about the princes in the tower.  Basically it’s a run down on the motives of various people and the evidence that is available. Ie bugger all. Then they ask you to vote on who you think did it.  There is no option for “murdered by persons unknown” you have to say murdered by the uncle, or murdered by Henry VII or not murdered, just disappeared.   We laugh.  Ah, maintaining the traditions of trial in absentia.  Haha. We decline to vote but note that one boy is there at the buttons pressing his choice repeatedly.  We move on.  OK I’m done. Let’s go. It’s going to be a close run thing to get to the Museum of London in time for our timed entry to the Dickens Exhibition.   Hubby says he wouldn’t have minded a look at the torture exhibit, but there’s a rather long queue and we haven’t the time. I’ve got no interest in the torture chambers or instruments. I read a book called “Torture through the ages” when I was a teenager. If that wasn’t enough to last me a lifetime, then the recent thoughts focused on the abominations humans are capable of inflicting on eachother more recently has done enough to dampen my holiday spirits. No torture exhibits for me thanks very much.

Back to the underground at Tower Hill and off at Barbican we need some lunch. I had suggested getting something at the museum. Hubby suggests the little sandwich joint we pass as we exit Barbican station.  We can eat as we walk he suggests. Good thinking again 99.  We double back and go in. It’s called Piazza sandwiches, salads and espresso.  Nice friendly service hubby had a chicken kiev, mozzarella cheese roll and picked up a coke. I didn’t’ want something quite that big so I opted for a smaller roll with schnitzel, mayo, cheese and lettuce with a bottle of water.  Both our meals were delicious. Chicken was warm, moist and tender. Great little spot for a quick lunch. .. but we don’t eat as we walk after all.  Time is even more of the essence now, but we’ll be OK.  We head into the museum and straight into the exhibition.  It’s not all that large and consists mainly of artifacts from the period designed to illustrate particular passages or aspects of “Dicken’s London”. Paintings for example play a big role.  Little toys that people used to hang on Christmas trees accompanied by an excerpt from Dickens where there is a reference to them. A ledger presumably with entries of rent payments by Dicken’s father for rent.  The desk Dickens wrote at.  There were a couple of pictures of the docks that I found of particular interest because they showed the docks area at the time my Williams forebears were living in the area.

Other exhibits included pictures that people would buy as an outline and then decorate themselves with ribbon and such. You get the general idea I’m sure.  One of the displays I enjoyed the most was an audio piece illustrating and discussing Dickens’ use of dialect.  The point is made that each of the various spellings of similar words or phrases would have been like a code providing social information that Victorians would have understood. Through the Dickens London walk and the exhibition I do have a greater appreciation of what an extraordinarily talented person he was and how influential he has been and continues to be.  I had no idea that when Dickens wrote some of his most famous books he was only in his very early twenties!  He had to have been a natural talent.  Extraordinary. I wouldn’t rate the exhibition as a must do in a limited time in London though.

We are busy again tonight so we decide to head home for a break before heading back out.  Our dinner reservation is for pre-theatre at Kettners and as usual we’re running just a little late but not too drastic.  We had some difficulty spotting the correct street from Shaftesbury Avenue.  Ah. We’ve gone too far we turn around and head back. I suggest we change blocks. Perhaps the street we need is easier to see the next block over.  Good plan.  Kettners has a huge sign that is visible on both intersecting streets from here. 

We are greated politely and shown to our table. It’s quite busy and really very large. Not an intimate dining space like Rules for example.  The décor is dark grey and white with large mirrors on the panels between large windows. It is a space filled with light.  The mirrors have sayings scrawled on them also in white.  I have to say the general effect is of a place under renovation.  It’s the white scrawling I think that does it.  It’s very hard to read and just looks like the sort of scribble you find on panels of gyprock (plaster boards) in the hardware store.  Everyone around us seems to be eating from different menus. The people next door have steak.  That’s not one of the options we have to choose from. Not that we mind of course.  They just seem to be running different menus at the same time.  The pre theatre menu is very good value. €19.50 for three courses. I think you can do it for less with two courses. I decided to splurge again and have a Lillie’s Lemonade cocktail.  Entrees: Hubby opted for a Prawn cocktail (very 70s) he enjoyed it.  I opted for the Italian salami remoulade with pickles which was also very nice.  We’re even so far.  Our mains arrive: Fillet of Pork with red cabbage and sage mash for hubby facing off against the Tagliolini with roast aubergine, sundried tomatoes, roquette salad and pine nuts.  Ooooh even again. Both very tasty indeed.  We simply will have to do the tie breaker.  It’s a hard life really.  Me: Pistachio parfait with fresh blackberries mmmmm delicious.  Hubby: Strawberry Tiramisu.  Yuuuum.  A tie.

Finished in time for dinner.  Now we just have to make our way to St Martins Theatre and take our seats. No dramas there, except my god we are tired.  Hubby buys the souvenir book for the 60^th Anniversary.  It includes an interview with Agatha Christie which will be of interest.  Asked why she thought the Mousetrap was such a success she said that it has three elements a nice non-grisley murder puzzle that you can solve, part farce.. actually she said more than that, but the point is, even the author regarded the piece as a farce.  Bear that in mind when you go.  They don’t play it completely dead pan all the time.  It’s a bit of fun.  We were probably too tired to really do it justice.  We had planned an earlier night last night but it wasn’t to be and unfortunately for the Mousetrap we’re not really in the appropriate condition.  Qe sera sera.