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Although I was tempted to take the tram because of the cold I decided to spend my day walking instead. It ended up being a good decision because it was the best day I've spent in Amsterdam. Lately, I've been very conscious, once again, about memory. All these new memories I've made seem to bring old memories with them. "I saw this and it reminded me of you..." is a phrase I've used often here. I've also started going back and reading my previous blog entries. This part astounded me: "It is funny sometimes how things tend to come full circle....Now you can see how all these memories of mine are connected in their own strange way. Or in my mind, at least. I'm going to keep making lists and I'm going to keep remembering. In less than a week, after I step onto that plane destined for Amsterdam, I'll have new memories to share with you. I hope you're ready." So, I've been sharing all sorts of experiences with you but everyone has baggage. I try my best to live in the present moment and not dwell on the past or think too much about the future. But every place I've been and every person I've met is part of me. I carry it all with me. So, I hope you don't mind the times I have (and will) share old memories alongside new ones. Everything is connected, you know.
Walking towards Amstel and Waterlooplein
I knew it was one of my last times in the city, so I made it a point to notice all sorts of charming details. That made it hard for me to get through the flea market at Waterloo without buying a few things. I made away with some excellent purchases but I can't tell you about them because they're Christmas-sensitive items.
Alexander the Great at The Hermitage
I'd seen posters for this exhibit at the train station in Purmerend a few weeks ago and since then I'd been aching to go. Partly because I hadn't been to the Hermitage yet but mostly because I love Alexander. It was the best Classics centered exhibit I have ever seen. It was very well organized and provided a portrait of Alexander from his lifetime and beyond. Cameras were not allowed inside and I forgot to bring in my little notebook to record facts, realizations, and favorites. At first, without my usual pen and paper, I felt so naked but I enjoyed moving from artifact to artifact without stopping. Everything in the exhibit belongs to The Hermitage's permanent collection in St. Petersburg. It was structured thus: introduction/cultural context, areas conquered, legacy, portrait, and influence on European monarchies (specifically Russia's Catherine the Great.)
"This episode from the history of Alexander the Great comes from Plutarch. During a siege of a fortress in Bactria, the eastern part of the Persian state of Darius III, Roxane - daughter of a Bactrian satrap or nobleman - was captured. In an effort to gain the support of the Persian aristocracy, Alexander married her. Rotari here shows Alexander's meeting with Roxane, who is surrounded by weeping slaves and stands modestly before the amazed military commander."Image and Caption Source
It opened with this painting by Pietro Rotari (Italy, 1756). From this moment onward I was full of passion. It may sound silly but tears began to pull behind my eyes because I suddenly felt so much. I always tend to become rather tender in the face of art and history, but even more so when it comes to certain eras or figures. Alexander, of course is one. I felt the sweet weight of memory. I remembered learning about him for the first time in elementary school and proposing that when Owen was born his middle name be that of the great Macedonian. Then I remembered the Greek History class at Gustavus in the fall of my sophomore year. Reading about him. Writing about him. Discussing his cultural influence and his legacy. Study sessions with some of my favorite friends. Honestly, it was one of the best classes I ever took. Mostly because of the ladies in it with me but also because of it being about Ancient Greece.
Study guide timeline - Democracy (?)
It was like I was visiting an old friend for the afternoon. If you don't know much about Alexander and are interested in learning more or exploring the exhibit digitally, the exhibit's website is very informative. Read an introduction here and check out the highlights here. For me, the highlights included: engraving's of Charles Le Brun's paintings of Alexander's life for King Louis XIV's palace, a wood relief based on Le Brun for Catherine the Great's lover, Italian armor from the 16th century depicting the Greek heroes Alexander admired, Scythian burial artifacts, Indian busts of Buddha depicting the influence of the Greek "wet look," Russian cameos of the Trojan heroes commissioned by Catherine the Great. I was very pleased that the cameo collection also included woman such as Iphigenia and Cassandra.
Many European monarchs tried to emulate Alexander. Catherine the Great had an instruction book created for her grandsons, Constantine and Alexander, based on events from Alexander the Great's life. I found it most interesting that even in Venice, a staunch republic, Alexander was revered not for his kingly greatness but for his humanity and good deeds. No matter how history represents him there is no denying that he should be counted as one of the most important figures of the Western world. Perhaps even the greatest.
Music in Dam Square
One of my favorite aspects of my European travels is the street music. Every city I've been to has musicians playing in public, guitar cases open for coins. Dam Square almost always has someone playing on the weekends. One night, while passing through with friends, I heard James O'Reilly singing. The weekend Caitlynn was here we listened to Giovanni Bassano and his guitar for a bit. I was impressed both times and then on this particular adventure into Amsterdam I was lucky enough to catch them together. Giovanni on guitar and James singing. You can easily guess what their home countries are and that I'm more than a little bit in love with them both. Both countries and both musicians, that is. They played in the afternoon and again later in the evening. I stood in the crowd both times taking pictures and video. A little boy was in complete awe and refused to be part of the audience. He wanted to stand close and no matter how many times his mom called him over or his father tried to guide him back to his buggy, he wouldn't budge. I bought James' CD and have been swooning every time I've listened to it this week.
One of my favorite friends from high school, Caitlyn, visited Amsterdam this weekend. We hadn't seen each other since the Christmas of 2008, just before my family moved from Kansas to Georgia. Just before my time in India and about a year before Italy. Well, she arrived on Thursday and left Monday afternoon. I joined her Friday evening and left Sunday night. We stayed together at a hostel near Central Station, in a 20 bed mixed dorm full of boys. It smelled like dirty socks but we didn't mind too much. We were reunited in Amsterdam, of all places. She is currently an au pair in Italy. She also studied abroad in Florence but the semester before I was there. Deep down I think I always knew we'd meet up somewhere in Europe. And we did. And it was grand.
Thanksgiving Break 2008 - Back in the day when I dyed my hair dark. Going back to my natural blonde took a whole year after Italy.
Random Moments for those too lazy to read the full account
-Almost falling on our arses behind Westerkerk when we turned around to head back after seeing a long line at the Anne Frank House. It turns out that instead of a sidewalk beneath the snow it was all granite. Who in the world does that?
-Witnessing a guy pass out in the middle of a pizzeria. He was just standing there, on his way out, and suddenly fell. Completely unconscious with no apparent cause (though it isn't hard to guess why.) I don't think we moved an inch or took one breath from the moment he hit the floor to the moment his friend finally slapped him back to reality. Does that count as a near death experience?
-Listening to Giovanni Bassano sing and play guitar in Dam Square Sunday night. Some random guy came up and hugged Caitlyn. All weekend she had the hardest time finding her wallet in her purse when she reached the check-out but this time, to make sure he hadn't pick-pocketed her, it was the first thing she grabbed.
-Eavesdropping on a phone conversation a guy was having on the tram. "It is Filipe from Brazil! How are you, man!? It is so good to hear from you!" He really couldn't believe that Filipe was calling him from Brazil.
-Having a deep discussion in the hostel about the characters on True Blood and how the tv show differs from the books, which I haven't read yet but Caitlyn has.
-Swapping stories about everything and everyone imaginable. While walking in the cold or waiting in line or snuggled in the hostel or eating at Wok To Go. That is where we went Friday night and that is when the real talking and catching-up started.
-Movie quotes. Caitlyn is the only person I know who can rattle off any line from almost any movie at any given moment. I think the most quoted movie this weekend was 500 Days of Summer. "We're young. We live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Might as well have fun while we can and save the serious stuff for later."
This was a very brief adventure to Amsterdam. It started snowing in the morning but I hopped on my bike, determined to brave the cold and get into the city. I had plans to meet with a friend and go shopping. I scouted some souvenirs to bring back for friends and family. I wanted to get an idea what to get each person and see the prices. A new H&M store opened in Dam Square so I popped in and bought myself a scarf. At the check-out I also received a booklet of coupons and a little OV-chipkaart holder that I'm using for my ID and debit card. When I stepped out of the store I heard music blaring, which isn't unusual in Dam Square. Then I noticed a big crowd so I pushed my way to the front and saw people dancing. I witnessed my first ever flashmob in person.
So, I missed the beginning which is the fun part. Everyone is just standing around and then out of nowhere comes music. The passersby are confused at first. A few people come together and start dancing. The dancers grow and grow until it is a mass of synchronized bodies. A crowd gathers. People take out their phones and cameras. At the end of the song the dancers disperse, back into the crowd and life carries on. I wondered when I'd see one in Amsterdam. I mentioned the Stockholm flash mob once before in this post. Here are some other great flash mobs:
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1
My main priority this weekend was to see this movie. On Friday night I stayed in Heemstede with my friends and we planned on getting up somewhat early on Saturday to get into Amsterdam to buy tickets for the 5:30pm showing but it is tricky to coordinate everyone. So, just me and two of my friends left around noon to buy the tickets for ourselves and two of the other girls who stayed behind and said they'd meet us later. By the time we got to the cinema all the showings were already sold out. That left us with a lot of time to kill so we ended up exploring some familiar and unfamiliar areas instead. Every time I'd see an advertisement for the movie my heart would break a little bit with disappointment.
However, on Sunday I got up early and went straight back to the cinema by myself in an attempt to get a ticket. At the counter I asked the guy for one ticket to the next showing that isn't sold out. In a burst of good luck he told me that there were two tickets for the 12:15pm showing that someone had left at the counter. It was 12:13pm but I paid and made it up the escalators just in time. I really was very lucky also because my seat assignment was perfect - near the front and in the middle of the row. "I am seeing Harry Potter in Amsterdam," I kept repeating in my head during the previews but once the screen went completely dark and the theme music began to echo a silence came over the whole crowd and I forgot everything. I was in complete awe the entire time. My love for Harry Potter is very deep and I'm not ashamed to say that some tears were shed during those two-and-a-half hours. I'm definitely going to see it again at least once more but I'll probably wait until I'm back in the States so I can go with my younger brother, Owen.
Albert Cuypstrat Market
This is one of the best known and cheapest outdoor markets in Amsterdam. It has stands for everything from food to small electronic items. We passed by it on the tram and we all looked at each other in unison then in an instant decided to jump out on the next stop. We walked through it from beginning to end, stopping to look at jewelry and shoes. Martina and I took advantage of a three hats for 5 euro deal. I picked out two and she picked out one and we split the cost. Estefania bought two purses and at the end we all caved in a ordered some french fries (Vlaamse frites).
Winterland at Rembrandtplein
The second thing we had planned for the day was to go ice skating. We met another group of au pairs, all from Germany, later in the evening at Winterland. It is a little Christmas village with stands for food, some carnival games, and a lot of holiday themed decorations. The rink was small and the ice needed a good cleaning but it was fun to get on the ice and play around for an hour or so. It also made me realize just how long I've been here. Long enough to see the seasons change from days when I'd ride my bike in shorts and a tank top to days when I'd bundle up and make sure I'd arrive at the train station at the last possible moment so I don't have to wait in the cold.
We stayed the night at Suzanne's cousin's apartment which has beautiful top floor views of Lake Mälaren. Most museums don't open until 10am so we were able to sit and have coffee with the owners when they returned in the morning from France. Maybe it is a Swedish thing but I found everyone I met there to be very good conversationalists. The coffee was always really good too.
Nordic Museum
This is Sweden's largest museum of cultural history. In 1880, the founder, Artur Hazelius, adopted "känn dig själv" as the motto. Originally from temple of Apollo in Delphi, it translates to mean "know thyself." I left knowing a lot more about Sweden's fashion and traditions.
The first exhibit was the "Power of Fashion: 300 years of clothing." By showcasing clothes from three three decades (1780's, 1860's, and 1960's) it demonstrated how social groups used clothing to create their identity. I took a history of costume class at college and a 20th century fashion class while studying in Italy but it was a different experience to learn about Swedish fashion.
"Traditions, Celebrations and Festivals from the Cradle to the Grave" was also very interesting because some things like Midsummer and various elements from Christmas were carried over in my family. The same goes for the section of the museum about design.
Vasa Museum
Statistically, this is the the most visited museum in all of Scandinavia. I admit, that the main reason I wanted to go was because I knew my brothers would have been dying to see it had they been there. A big ship from the early 17th century which sunk before it had even travelled one nautical mile out of the harbor? Yeah, it is a true story. The Vasa was a warship built for King Gustavus Adolphus' navy in an attempt to strengthen it's forces. It was the largest of the five ships intended to increase the fighting force against Sweden's enemies like Poland and Denmark.
The reason for it's sinking can be put into simple terms: it did not have proper ballast. Although the ship is too large to fit in a single photograph at once there are seven floors to the museum from which can see every portion from top to bottom.
It turned out that going just to show off the pictures to my brothers and having the bragging rights to hang over their heads wasn't the only advantage. Gustavus considered himself a pretty big deal and had the ship decorated with elaborate wood carvings of various Roman iconography in order to express his power. Once again I found that no matter where I go - no matter how far North of Rome I find myself - Classics is always there waiting for me.
Shopping
In summary, Stockholm was wonderful, amazing, epic, and every other adjective of greatness one can imagine. However, the only con was trying to find suitable souvenirs. What does one buy when one's family already has dala horses of every size, carved trolls and Tomtars, Pippi Longstocking dolls, Viking gear, wood butter knives, and everything by Astrid Lindgren? I love Swedish handicrafts but I was limited on suitcase space for my flights back to Holland. In the back of my mind I knew I should just give in and buy something just to say "Hey, I bought this in Sweden" but I couldn't bring myself to cop out. So, I ended up buying one t-shirt for my brothers to fight over and some wall hangings for my mom and two grandmothers which I will decorate myself with paints (but I don't want to give away the details in case they're reading this.) For myself, a headband of Lapland wool. Note to all travelers: don't let yourself get too wrapped up in buying gifts for others - you deserve something after all that walking and picture taking. You deserve something of your own so that when someone comments or compliments when you wear it you can say, "Oh, this old thing? I bought it when I was in Sweden." And then you can remember, briefly, those two days you spent in Stockholm. But really, how could you ever forget a city as great as this?
I have not been to Amsterdam nearly enough to know all the secrets. All the streets. All the history. But I have a very strong attraction to the city. After this past Saturday I realized something. I think I am in love again.
"Love makes you see a place differently, just as you hold differently an object that belongs to someone you love. If you know one landscape well, you will look at all other landscapes differently. And if you learn to love one place, sometimes you can also learn to love another." - Fugitive Pieces by Anne Michaels
During the week all I can think about is when I get to see Amsterdam again. At first sight, every time, it makes my heart beat go silly. I walk out from Centraal Station and it is waiting there for me. It is always waiting for me. Even if I don't have anything planned for my time in Amsterdam just being there is enough. And when I leave I can still feel it on my skin. Yes, I think I have fallen in love.
On Saturday I didn't waste any time after I got out of bed. I skipped breakfast, got dressed, and packed a bag. I filled my water bottle and took a banana to eat on the train. The children waved to me from the back patio as I biked away. Since it was raining the weekend before I went straight to the Waterloo Plein flea market. And when I say I went straight there that actually means my route was direct but I took a few side stops to shop along the way.
I love flea markets. I've only been to one in the States. Years ago while visiting my cousin in NYC. In Italy I always went to the monthly flea market in Fiesole and bought some very interesting items there. Scarves and handbags that once belonged to some old Italian lady. A silver jewelry box as a gift for my godmother's wedding. A few old lire. There was an annual vintage fair in Florence but you had to pay to get in so I only went once. There I bought a red leather Cartier wallet that had a special flap for a passport. All special purchases that have the genuine feel of Italy on them even after changing ownership. So, I was excited about what I would find in Amsterdam.
Vintage mini liquor bottles. I bought four in different colors and a small jar. Old postcards. I only bought ones from the places I've actually been. I spoiled myself with three from Florence. It was nice to be reminded of my greatest love, Italy.
I had lunch alone outside some Asian place on Damstraat. It was a very busy day in the city but I still managed a leisurely stroll from block to block. Back in Dam Square I found some sort of Hare Krishna gathering. Food, music, and a diverse crowd. It was nice to be reminded of my first love, India.
I enjoyed some street music until the Hare Krishnas kicked them out of the square but the timing was perfect because the British au pair I met last weekend called and invited me to meet up with a group of au pairs in Vondelpark with her. I could have taken the tram because it is rather far but I chose to walk. When you're in love you like to take your time. Enjoy every moment. Savor the scenery.
The grass near the Flower Monument was packed full of people picnicking, dancing, playing with their dogs, sleeping, and conversing. It took us awhile to find the other au pairs but they had a good set up near the pond with blankets, wine, cookies, and cheese. About half the girls were from the US and half from Australia. Then one girl from Finland and one from Poland. Past the introductions the conversations all moved along with laughter and sarcasm and stories concerning adorably annoying Dutch children. So, my last two hours in Amsterdam were spent this way. Full of laughter, love, and all that other mushy stuff. I laughed my way into a romance with Amsterdam.
I'm trying something different this time. Instead of writing out my adventure as it went, from one moment to the next, I've organized my trip according to the places and tastes I enjoyed. No matter which format I use, it is impossible to tell you everything. So, forget about whatever you did this weekend and imagine me in Brussels. Allons-y!
Musée du Costume et de la Dentelle (Costume and Lace Museum)
This was at the top of my list of planned destinations during my weekend away. According to the internet it boasts a collection of clothing pieces from the 16th to the 19th centuries, but it does not have an official website so I really had no idea what would be on display until I arrived at the front desk: The Sixties. Although it is a small museum and only 3€ for entrance, I thought the exhibit to be very well designed and the free catalog a very handy guide while pacing between Dior, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Lanvin, Balmain, and many others. The two fashion/costume history classes I've taken were organized by century or decade, so it was easy for me to mentally situate myself before walking down the carpeted corridor leading to the first floor of display cases.
After the austere silhouettes and fabrics women wore during WWII, Christian Dior brought fashion into a new era during the 1950's with his "New Look." These garments used luxurious amounts of fabric for the mid-calf length skirts whose shape emphasized women's hips, while the fitted tops and jackets cinched the waist and broadened the shoulders. Women became impeccable, glamourous, pearl-wearing, glove-fingered images of perfection. Not a single hair was ever out of place. Not a fingernail with chipped polish. No wrist ever went without perfume. Then, as the introduction to the exhibit declares, "during the Sixties, women turned away from pencil skirts, tightly constricted waists, girdles and suspenders. Some of them even burned their bras in public. They won the right to wear trousers at any time of the day and in any circumstances, giving them the freedom to uncross their legs, take long strides, or sprawl back in comfortable sofas without worrying about it, as well as the right to show their knees and thighs, clad in multicolored tights, items of clothing which until then had been reserved for winter sports. This upsurge of freedom in clothing is perhaps the most immediately visible expression of a deep and irreversible movement in the evolution of the feminine condition in our western society."
Rue de la Violette 12
Expectedly, pictures were forbidden but I scribbled notes about my favorite pieces in the margins of the catalog, which also conveniently includes a short paragraph describing each garment and lists it's designer or creator.
On the top floor, in a low lit corner without windows, is the portion of the museum dedicated to the history of Belgian lace. I spent just as much time here, pulling out each display drawer and examining the sample lace spread neatly beneath a pane of protective glass, as I did observing the three floors of clothing and accessories.
Grand Place
This is the heart of Brussels and a must-see for anyone visiting the city. It is a square surrounded by a series of historically important buildings. The City Hall was built during the first half of the fifteenth century and is guarded by a statue of Saint Micheal slaying a dragon at the top of the tower. Directly across from the seat of municipal power is the Maison du Roi, built by the Duke of Brabant one hundreed years after the City Hall. On the other sides of the square the most powerful guilds of Brussels established their headquarters in lines now collectively called the Guild Houses. The large space in between was used as a market place until 1959. Naturally, it was full of tourists no matter what time of day I walked through. At night the atmosphere was more genuine as everyone was charged with energy, waiting around for the lights to turn on. Some people sat on blankets while others (like me) perched on the front ledge of the Maison du Roi smoking cigarettes or (like me) devouring Belgian waffles soft with chocolate sauce.
A parade in Grand Place.
Grand Place at night.
Maison du Roi.
Guild Houses
City Hall
Manneken Pis
After Grand Place, this little fountain is Brussel's next iconic site. The name probably gives it away and any assumption you have was probably right. It is a small fountain with a statue of a little peeing boy. It was put into place around 1618 and now on certain days of the year petit Julien, as he is called in French, is dressed in various costumes according to certain holidays or cultural events. I'm sure up close he is adorable but it is hard to want to look at him very long since he very openly doing his business right in your direction.
There are a handful of legends surrounding the historical significance of the boy. The most exciting is that as foreign invaders prepared to enter Brussels and besiege it, a little boy was spying on them from the bushes on the outskirts of the city. As soon as he saw them light the fuse for the opening attack he ran up and peed on it to put it out, thus saving Brussels from destruction. The more sentimental story is that a wealthy merchant let his son go missing. Once he realized the result of his carelessness he sent out troops of men to scour the city for his beloved heir. The young boy was found safe and sound, peeing happily in a small garden.
Galeries de Saint-Hubert
Just north of Grand Place is a glass covered shopping gallery of luxury shops. I only walked down the long, chilly corridor twice which was enough for me. The window displays were too enticing and the price tags too steep.
There is a craft market outside and a touch east of the Galeries. I made my way from stand to stand in the hope of finding something to buy and take back home for my mom and godmother but instead I bought something for myself. There was an old man and his slightly-younger-than-middle-age son selling perfume. I really only intended to smell one or two then move on but the owner (which is the son - his dad just helps out) was so nice and undemanding that I let myself linger. It was refreshing to meet a salesman who was not intent on striking a deal with me by trying to convince me to buy whatever ridiculously over-priced items he so persuasively shoves in anyone's face. The perfumer simply explained how he puts together scents, the differences between an eu de toilette and a perfume, and the oil-alcohol ratio of his recipe. He had a diagram of his 100 blends which listed each scent's primary components. I like lily and sandalwood so I looked up which perfumes had those in the mix and then chose one from there. I walked away with 10€ less in my purse but a charming heart shaped bottle of perfume from Brussels. I'll just have to find something for my dear mother and godmother in some other city.
Musées royaux d'art et d'histoire (Museum of Art and History)
After checking out of my hotel on Sunday, I hopped on the metro in the direction of Parc du Cinquetenaire. It is only a handful of stops away from Grand Place but my feet were far too sore for me to even consider walking. I strolled through the entire park before noon, then turned back to find the entrance to the museum. I wasn't as excited as I was for the costume museum but when I turned the corner to the open front doors my breath caught in my throat. All because of one word: MEDICI.
In case you didn't know, I have a great love for the Italian Renaissance. Specifically in Florence. And specifically concerning the Medici family. The museum was hosting a temporary exhibit created by the artist Isabelle de Borchgrave who creates clothing out of paper. Her latest venture was a recreation of some of the garments the most famous members of the Medici family wore. Botticelli's Minerva and Primavera figures were a bonus. Again, pictures were forbidden but this video from the exhibit's website provides a fair visual.
Just like the time in Amsterdam when I wandered into a museum with an exhibit about ancient Roman sea ports, I felt fated to find the Medici in Brussels the same time as me. I've been thinking a lot lately about going back to Florence. But I think it would break my heart again to have to leave it again. So for a little less than an hour, with Isabelle's crafted gowns around me, I let myself pretend I was back there again.
After saying goodbye to my beloved Lorenzo I shuffled up, down, and around the museum's other wings. The guide at the front of the museum who greeted me explained everything in French. He must have mistaken me for a French woman, which was perfectly fine with me. But even though I made shortly sweet replies of "oui", "bonne", and "Je comprends," I really didn't understand much of what he was telling me. I couldn't find the ancient Greek and Roman artifacts. I think it was closed because all the stairs to the third floor were roped off. I got lost in the European decorative arts section. (Going in circles gets old after the second lap.) And then I crossed through the museum shop to the Non-European area knowing I wouldn't be able to last much longer without food. It was probably a good thing though that I saw all the South American shrunken heads and their terrifying statues on an empty stomach. By the time I had finally moved through India and China I decided to skip North America and Canada. It was time for the sunshine again. And food.
Beer, Chocolate, and Other Delicacies
Usually when I'm traveling alone I avoid eating at sit-down restaurants. But in Brussels I felt better about sitting down by myself and enjoying a meal. For an early dinner on Saturday I had a green salad, quatro fromaggio penne, and a few glasses of table wine for less than 20€ at an Italian place on a street near Saint-Hubert. Then a slice of New York style pizza in Grand Place later that night after tasting some beer, which is one of Belgium's specialties. Lindeman's blueberry was my favorite.
De Bier Tempel - only a block above Grand Place with beers half the price of the other shops.
My first purchase in the city, not even an hour after checking into my hotel, was some chocolate: a 250 grams sample box, a bar of white, and a package of individually wrapped mini-bars. I devoured the box in my hotel room Saturday evening while resting up before setting out again to see the lights of Grand Place.
On Sunday, after the history museum, I sat down for some steak frites, a popular Belgian dish. Just in case you didn't already know, french fries actually originated from Belgium. The ones I tried were something like ten times the size and thickness of fries in the States. And they actually tasted like they were made from potatoes. Sauce cost extra.
Traveling by Train
I love trains, train stations, and riding trains. There is something about it that still feels somewhat old fashioned. Even though it takes longer than flying and can sometimes be more expensive depending on the circumstances I think it is one of the best ways to get somewhere. To make my train out of Amsterdam on time I had to be up and out the door by 6:30am to ride my bike to Purmerend and take the 7:10 train to the city.
The platform was already overflowing with people when I arrived about 20 minutes prior to departure time. It was a free for all for seats and I'm glad I only had a purse and an overnight bag because the people with larger luggage had to haul themselves up and into the train last. So while I was already snuggled into a window seat they were still struggling to get up off the platform.
The train back was a whole other story. It was an older train with, as you can see in the picture below, outdated interior and a strange musty smell. It was not as crowded as the other train - I had to share a car with four other people at most. Only one of which actually rode all the way to Amsterdam like me and didn't get off on any of the stops in between. And then by the time I got to Amsterdam Centraal I still had to take another train to Zandaam and exchange there for Purmerend. All of this wore me down even more than I was already, so by the time I got onto my bike I was peddling like a cripple all the way back to the house.
