Adri left as we finished our breakfast this morning, riding his bike to work, dressed in his suit. we bid Stijnie goodby and headed to the train station on our bikes. Our first piece of business was to sell Sally's bike to the bike shop below the new train station. We weren't sure if the transaction would take place this morning, because Dave, the man we met about the sale last Thursday, mentioned he would have to get cash from the bank to complete the sale.
We rode to the shop and found Dave had taken the day off, but another man, Martin, was ready to help us. He had the cash in the safe. It took him a few minutes to get it. We handed over the bike, battery, keys and charger. We mentioned we needed to rent a bike for just a day when we returned from Amsterdam tomorrow. He said that would be great, and there would be no charge. We also mentioned we needed a box to wrap my bike in for the high speed train ride to Paris. Again, he said he would have it for us when we returned. He was gracious, kind and very thoughtful. We were very happy to hand our ebike to him. We walked out of the shop, pushing my bike to the adjacent bike storage racks to lock it up for the night while we were gone to Amsterdam. When we were about 100' from the shop, we heard Martin calling to us. We turned around to see him running after us. He said he did not feel good about us leaving my bike overnight in the storage area. Too many thefts. He said he would put it in the paid, protected storage for the night for free. Again, a super friendly, caring and thoughtful person.
Once rid of our bikes we headed to the ticket area and purchased our tickets to Amsterdam and back. Off to the platforms and soon we were rolling through the Dutch countryside, headed to Amsterdam. It was the intercity milk run. We made about 8 stops at various cities enroute. Still, we arrived in Amsterdam a little over an hour later.
We walked from the station to the Anne Frank house and scoped out the line, about an hour long. The attendant at the door said the best time to come for a short line was around 5:00 pm. We set our sites to the Van Gogh museum instead. We decided to check into our B & B, if they would let us in, since it was just on the other side of the church, truly one minute away.
At the street level, it was solid small restaurants and a grocery store, with no sign of the "B & B". I checked the address, number 25. We found a glass and aluminum door squezed between a Kabob shop and a grill. It was locked. We looked again at our email confirmation and saw that we were to call and let them know of our arrival time. I called, and the proprietor, a lady, said the cleaner was upstairs working on the room. She would call him and have him come down and let us in. He did, and we followed him up impossibly steep stairs; stairs that would never pass any code in the U.S. The last flight was more like a ladder than stairs, and we climbed it with our hands and feet. The room was on the top floor of a four story building. It was clean with lots of personality. The floor sloped radically, about an 8" difference between one side of the room and the other. One end of the bed was on blocks to get it level. The window frames, although nicely painted white, were clearly rotten. Later, when I opened the window, I could see the only thing holding the frame together was the glass. Still, it was clean, spacious and came with a terrace, as advertised. The terrace was a 6' by 8' tarred roof sandwiched between the bathroom and the bedroom. No view of anything but roofs, but a nice touch if we needed to get outside.
We showered and headed for Van Gogh. As we tried to decipher the trolley system at one of the stops, a trolley pulled up. Sally stuck her head in and asked the attendant how to get to the Van Gogh museum. She said to take her trolley to the next stop, then get on number 17. We purchased one hour tickets and followed instructions. We were soon at the Reichs Museum. We walked under it and found the Van Gogh museum behind.
It took an hour of standing in line to get in, but once inside, we really enjoyed the museum. It is spacious, with Van Gogh's works, over 200 paintings, spread over four floors, taking the visitor through the progression of his work from early days in Holland, to Paris up until his death in 1890. He only painted for ten years, but he was prolific.
After the museum we rode back to the Kabob place below our room for dinner, then walked over to get in line at the Anne Frank house. It was now raining cats and dogs. We donned our rain gear and enjoyed talking with a lively young Indonesian couple, now living in London, who were in line behind us. The 45 minutes passed quickly, in spite of the rain, and we soon were inside.
The hiding place was actually her father's place of business. The back was like a separate house, except it was attached to the back wall of the business. The tour route takes you through the business and then into the back to the rooms they were hiding in and finally out to displays of Anne's actual diaries and a short film.
It was very well organized, letting us walk at our own pace through the entirety of the rooms, some with short movies playing, showing period film or interviews with the people that helped or knew them.
We were both impressed with two concepts. First, how large the rooms were that they had taken refuge in. Granted, over two years shut up in a small house would be impossible, but when you think of people hiding, you think of cramped quarters. Second, that they thought they could stay hidden in open rooms in a house in the middle of Amsterdam. We were amazed that they were not found earlier. It is not like you can hide a house in the middle of a city. Still we found the experience moving, enlightening, emotional and thought provoking.
After the Anne Frank house we climbed back up to our room and enjoyed a little down time. I had downloaded the diary while in the house. I spent an hour rereading the beginning, now with the actual hiding place fresh in my mind. It brought the story to life and made it that much more powerful. As we lay there, the church Anne mentions in her diary rung every 15 minutes, just as it did for her. We were about the same distance from the bells as she was. It created a connection for us, to her. It made today's experience of seeing her house more interesting.
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