All week I considered going to Amsterdam again on Saturday. When Friday night finally came around and I checked the weather predictions it did look good. But again, there is always room for the unexpected. This time that was even more true than last weekend. I left my dresses hanging in the closet and decided on more sensible attire for the possibility of rain. I brought along my new light raincoat and borrowed an umbrella from my host parents. I waited for a break in the clouds then set off on my bike for the station. I arrived dry, without getting lost, and just in time to catch the train just after noon.
From Centraal station I went straight to the used bookstore featured in my Netherlands book. I had the books the previous au pair left behind with the hope that I could sell them and pick up some other, better books. The owner, however, did not want them because "they are too weak." I could have spent hours inside the little shop, examining every shelf. The entire place (main floor, upper level, bottom level, and cellar) is crammed with books. I went the safe route and found authors I've already read and know I like. Then, I found the sci-fi and fantasy section and descended upon Ursula K. Le Guin as well. Just the first three of the Earthsea series. Hopefully, these will last me a bit longer than a month. I didn't catch his name but the owner was very talkative. One of those people who likes to tell stories and talk about anything and everything. The kind of person you instantly like and hope to meet again and again. When I showed him my ID he was immediately disappointed that I don't have a Southern accent. Sorry, Georgia, I can't take you anywhere now can I? He is originally from Indiana and was a line backer in Nashville during college. When I asked how long he's been in Amsterdam he simply answered, "forever."
Next, I tried to make my way towards the Van Gogh Museum but I somehow ended up going in the slightly wrong direction. I turned to go back the way I came and take a different street but I had to stop for a little detour. And when I say stop I literally mean I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw this:
An exhibit on the major ports of the Roman Empire at the Allard Pierson Museum. Of course I had to go in. Maybe it was destiny, that strange force that accompanies adventures even when they make a wrong turn. In the middle of what turned out to be a sunny day in Amsterdam I got to see artifacts from Egypt, Cyprus, Mycenae, Rome, and my beloved Etruria. I tested my left-over knowledge from the Etruscan course I took in Florence by mentally identifying
bucchero, Villanovan burial urns, and other random pieces. My heart was swollen by the time I finally went back out into the sunlit streets because my love of ancient history was reignited. It was a nice reminder that I don't have to be in school or in Italy to study my passion. And that even though I've graduated those centuries will always be part of me.
The flower market, Bloemenmarkt, along Singel canal.
Houses along the Singelgracht canal across from Rijksmuseum.
When I made it to the Van Gogh Museum there was a line. Fortunately, it was still early enough that I only had to wait about 20 minutes compared to the average 45 minutes. Unfortunately, it was packed full of people. I have a post in draft form about Van Gogh because he is one of my favorites, so I won't write too much about him. I will spend a few sentences talking about the museum. Would it be awful if I said it wasn't anything spectacular? It was just too crowded. All the bodies made it hot and stuffy. There were crying children and clusters of people in front of every painting. No matter how patient or pushy I was I didn't get a good or long enough look at any of the paintings. Still, my heart swelled up a bit more at being near all the yellow, blue, and orange.
The entrance to the museum looking up.
The entrance to the museum looking left.
One of the paintings on loan was "Buddha in His Youth" by Odilon Redon, a French symbolist painter whose works are usually described as mysterious and inspiring. I had never heard of him before and I had another unexpected moment standing in front of this particular painting. Which, by the way, is absolutely massive in person. And even more inspiring than I think I could ever describe. Especially to me, especially at this point in my life, but that is another story for another time.
"Buddha in His Youth" by Odilon Redon, 1904.
I hadn't eaten since breakfast. By the time I was done with the museum and my mind had reached its fill of books, art, and reading maps I realized I was starving. I devoured a ham and cheese sandwich from an outdoor cafe with the I Amsterdam letters in view. I wanted some stranger to take a picture of me on the 'e' but that is the most popular letter for people to climb up for some reason. I didn't want to wait. Next time, on another adventure in the city.
There is so much to see but I'm pacing myself. I figured that was enough for one day and so I wandered until it was time to get on the train again. I bought a reusable bag of woven plastic to carry my goods for the day and future excursions. I bought a pale yellow cardigan at H&M - the kind that when you wear it you feel warm, fuzzy, and happy. Some plastic headbands for keeping my overgrown bangs out of my face while playing with the children. And a few other random small things, including another jar of peanut butter. In a larger jar this time. Before heading back I bought some ice cream and watched some street performers in different colored jump suits play trumpets near the Palace.
There were so many small encounters and interactions that I can't really even remember them all. I like being asked for directions when I'm in a city I don't even know that well myself. Some woman asked me how to get to the Van Gogh Museum not too long after I'd left. I had to laugh to myself because it took me awhile to get in the right direction. If only I could time travel and ask my future self so I could go back and get there on my own more easily. I think about silly things like that. And I'll be thinking of Amsterdam until I go back.
