Unlike the failed family attempt at a Disney World video postcard back in 1999, this time around I successfully created my very own Postcard from Anne’s House while in Amsterdam. Wanna see?
Or, instead of clicking on the link, check out the video clip. Then go to Amsterdam or better yet, read The Diary of a Young Girl
Our first full day in Amsterdam started at 715h when we were woken up by doors slamming in the hall. We’re not in a hostel, but are sharing our bathroom amongst three roos. After breakfast, which was included with the hotel stay, we set out to explore all that Amsterdam had to offer. Here are some photos with brief descriptions:
With no sunglasses on our eprsons, the bright sun caused mostly unflattering, squinty-eyed photos. Instead, here is example #243 of the thousands of bikes chained to railings in Amsterdam.
Urged by every travel book and previous visitor, we made our first official stop the Anne Frank Huis. It's been a while since I read the book, but seeing it in person was very poignant. No photos allowed inside.
postcard scenes abound
Probably the only example of Dutch food that I had on this trip, this sandwich was delicious. A bit surprising since the beef was raw. Beef, rocket, parmesan and truffle oil.
We accidentally found the famous sign on our way to the Van Gogh Museum. Ssee how sunny and hot it was? Sweaterdress. Bad. Idea.
So many samples of delicious cheese; pesto cheese is incredible. Almost bought a six-pack for 40 Euros but elected instead for a solitary round of Cumin Gouda.
The Bloemen Market, also known as the flower market. Now to figure out how to get those black tulip bulbs home to Canada...
Those aren't stones, they are various flavours of black liquorice or 'Dropp' as it's referred to here in the Nederlands. Tasty good.
Even the mannequins like to get naughty!
You may notice I look much happier than Melissa.... Look who found sunglasses!
Thank you to Melissa L. for the use of her Amsterdam guide book!
I was so smart to find a flight to Amsterdam for 12 noon. It meant that we’d have no early trip (and by early I mean a.c.o’d.) to the airport and no rushing in the morning. We arrived at Gatwick with plenty of timet o spare and it was only when I double-checked our departure terminal that I realized my error.
Okay, gimme a break – I’m sure I’m not the only person who has made the mistake of going to the wrong airport. With five airports in London and EasyJet leaving from three, it’s an easy mistake to make. The boarding pass for the return said Gatwick and I accidentally read that instead. Ooops.
Expecting the worst, I approached the EasyJet info desk and delivered my pathetic tale of woe. Surprisingly I was informed that we could get on the next flight to Amsterdam at 2:25 pm. And this one was to leave from Gatwick! 100£ later I had new tickets for us and we were on our way.
We had time to eat a leisurely breakfast, plot out ‘to see’ sights from the guidebook, and rush through check-in before boarding our flight. It was half empty, by the way.
We each got a stamp at Schiphol Border Control, bought out train tickets, and missed our train. The platform signs are confusing… and in Dutch! But we did make it to Centraal Station and found our hotel.
at our hotel window which overlooked a canal
The Tourist Inn has an extremely modern-looking lobby, and the rooms are down an alleyway in a canal house. Our room had a beautiful large window that we could throw open over the canal. It’s lovely. And purple. We also had a sink and a bed. There was a small folding chair but it took up half our walking space so it was put away. Our room was very small, in case you didn’t get the hint. But what it lacked in size it made up for in character. We were happy with it.
View from outside the front door at night.
The red lights are what you think they are – the hotel was right in the middle of the red light district. We found the legalized prostitution to be very intriguing – it raised several questions for us. Melissa felt sad, I felt that the women were more protected in this type of setting. It’s certainly a bizarre experience to walk past a window displaying a lady in lingerie. It’s even more strange to watch a man walk away, zipping up his trousers as he leaves.
