I'm in Amsterdam. I arrived here this morning after yet another night train. This was my sixth night train ride. I think I'm done with them for good.

On the way to the night train in Basel last night, I had the pleasure of sitting with a young Swiss/Italian family - a mother and two kids (Undina and Erasmo). This kids were adorable. They were fascinated with me and the fact that I spoke English. They kept asking me to say things and different words, but they could only speak Italian and German and I couldn't speak either. Adorable.

I arrived this morning and immediately found my way online to cancel my hostel reservation. I had heard rumors (that were confirmed by online review after online review), that the hostel that I picked was awful. Bed bugs, bad plumbing, rude staff, etc. So, I found another place but the check-in wasn't until 1pm, so I headed out into town in the meantime.


I stared exploring downtown. I walked through the main thoroughfare and the day-time version of the red-light district and then headed over to the Rembrandt Museum. The museum was nice, but its main draw is that it is in the house that Rembrandt himself lived and worked in. Considering that the entire house has been vastly reorganized and reconstructed, the value of it being his own place was largely diluted. "This is a easel very similar to the one that he may have used" and "this is the view that he would have looked through in the morning." I sighed and headed onwards.


My next destination was much more satisfying. I went to the Heineken Experience. Hardly a museum, this place is a beer wonderland! They have a full on Disneyland-like tour that takes you through the glory of the Dutch beer company and how our whole world would be a much sadder place with out the smiling green bottles to greet us at every bar. There is even a great, full motion simulator ride that takes you through the "adventure" of being a bottle in the bottling plant. One of the highlights of the museum is the fact that throughout the tour, they give you three beers! Considering that I had hardly slept and had yet to eat since arriving, I left the museum with more than a little buzz and probably spent more money at the gift shop than I otherwise would have.

After leaving, and eating a delicious tandoori chicken sandwich, I moved on to the Van Gogh Museum - another great exhibit. Still a little tipsy, I also probably spent more money at this gift shop than I otherwise would have, but loved it just the same.

I then hopped on a tram toward the Anne Frank House Museum. Just a quick aside about European tramways - many European towns without underground subways have these above ground tramways. They all seem to be made by the same company and are all ridiculously easy to use with out paying. If there are any European tramway officials out there reading this, you may want to find another way of having people pay for these things because as it is, I don't think anyone thinks twice about hopping on for free. Anyways, I got to the Anne Frank Museum, but I was turned off by the extra long line so I decided to head back to the hotel, check in, and leave the Museum for later.I went back to the hotel with the intention of reorganizing my bag, showering and then hitting the town again, but as soon as my butt hit the bed, my head shortly followed and I found myself four hours later, a little sweaty from the un-air conditioned room, but very well rested. I crawled out of bed, changed my underwear (I still ha vent showered since Croatia - ewww, I know), and made my way back to the Anne Frank Museum.


On the way over, I discovered that changing my underwear only exacerbated a small problem that I had earlier in the day. Basically - and I'm sorry to my grandparents and who ever else reading this that would rather not know - my grundle hurts. I walked bow-legged all the way to the museum, taking much needed breaks every block and a half.Finally, I arrived at the museum, payed the entrance fee and was mesmerized by what is truly a masterful exhibit. Now, I have never read the famed diary, but I can only imagine that the imagery created in her writing makes for a very moving book. Seeing the real place, the real rooms where her and her family stayed and hid, and learning about the incredible people who sheltered her family was deeply emotional.

At one point toward the end of the exhibit, when I was in the room full of quotes from former world leaders and celebrities talking about how important Anne's story is, I broke down and cried. I wasn't expecting it, especially in such a unusual room in the museum and in such a public place, but it happened and just overwhelmed me.

Maybe it was after a month of solitary travel that just lead me to break down, or maybe it was that, for most of this trip, I have been following the foot steps of countless holocaust victims, including my grandfather's, fleeing the Nazi's. Whatever it was, it was unexpected but very welcome. Needless to say, the museum is a must see.

After the museum, I sat outside along the canals in a perfect late afternoon rest. A injured little pigeon was flailing its way through the water below me and caught the attention of several other people (also freshly emerging from the Anne Frank House, I presume). This little broken bird with a broken wing caused quite a scene. A boat came up to it and rescued it from the water and brought it ashore. The crowed erupted in applause for what was probably the most bizarre experience in this birds life. A strange little scene, for sure, but I guess after witnessing the lack of humanity in the Anne Frank Museum, people want to be as kind as possible - even to pigeons.


After that exciting rescue operation, I moved on to dinner. I ate at a great soul food restaurant. Soul food in Amsterdam, you scoff? Well, after all, it is the original Harlem. I ate, then I found my way over to the nearest McDonald's for an Amsterdam specialty - McFlurry's made with Rolo. Yes, it is just as delicious as it sounds!Now that night had fallen, it was time to go (with every other American tourist in the country, it seemed) to the famed Red Light District for some seedy after hours amusement. The highlight of my time there was my visit to the Sex Museum which has a fascinating array of pornographic pictures and sexy artifacts to stimulate all different parts of your brain.


I then walked through the more adventurous streets of Amsterdam, complete with women offering themselves from first story windows and "coffee shops" that serve all kinds of addictive products, except for actual coffee. I chose not to participate in either of these offerings (a disappointment to my grandparents, I'm sure), and then left the Red Light District with a yawn and a shrug.Now I'm back at the hostel, about to get ready for bed (again). I will defiantly take a shower before I hit the sack, I promise.


Tomorrow morning, I'm taking a train to Brugges where I will stay the night and then head, the next day to Brussels and Luxembourg before catching yet another overnight train (this will be the last one, for sure) to Munich for my last few days of Euroschlepping.

It's been quite an adventure and it really just keeps getting better and better.

-Adam



  ¶ 8:32 AM