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 The final leg of this amazing trip is officially complete, and I am already unpacked with two loads of laundry done. Already the memories are forming with the knowledge that this has truly been a one in a million experience, not just because Holland is… well… Holland, and not just because we had perfect weather.   Mostly because, ‘thanks’ to Covid, Europe is still quiet and the throngs of people, line ups and hassles simply aren’t there.  The trams and trains were never full and most of the time we had compartments all to ourselves.  We dined outside, always, and although the streets were sometimes busy, the pace was leisurely and we never felt crowded.   In fact, the only line ups were, ironically, during the cattle line ups at the airport, and they were terrible.   Today’s experience with KLM had us swearing behind our masks as we endured almost 2-1/2 hours of standing in line ups, only to go onto the next one and repeat the same experience again.  And after that, a third inquisition that simply repeated everything that had already been done in the first.   It was perplexing.  Thank goodness we arrived at the airport 3-1/2 hours early, because we used every minute of it.   As the final touch, a gate change (unannounced) left about 10 of us perplexedly waiting with about a dozen other Calgarians in the wrong spot.  We finally reckoned that our flight likely had about 250 more people on it, somewhere, and one brave guy raced down to the other end of the airport and then breathlessly returned to lead us all to the correct gate.   Not an agent, mind you, a passenger, and thank goodness he did otherwise we’d still be sitting at 2E when we should have been at 3F.   F for…. Well, you know what that stands for!

Good humour returned once we finally boarded and got into our seats and settled in for another excellent flight, all 9 hours of it.   Just a short turnover time in Calgary where security and customs were grumpy but efficient, and then a delightful flight back to YQQ.   The weather was clear and the mountains, valleys, rivers and lakes were stunning, almost all the way to the Island.  I miss the Rockies!

And so another blog travelogue comes to a close.   Thanks to all for the comments and for joining me virtually for the fun.  I truly wish you all could have been along to experience all the richness and wonders of beautiful Amsterdam!

Tram, Train, Bus, Bike - a perfect final day

We lucked out, yet again.   The weather was perfect, blue skies with a few wispy clouds, and we set out after a respectable morning of coffee and juice.   And our connections worked like magic.  We approached the tram stop; #24 appeared 15 seconds later.   Purchased tickets at Centraal, wandered through to the station and literally walked onto our train.   A fast 30 minutes later at Leiden, our bus to Katwik was patiently waiting for us.  It all felt surreal.   

Our rental bikes were superb and Dave handily found the start of the trail through the dunes and alongside the North Sea.   These are paths specific to bikes and/or walkers, and therefore the worry of traffic doesn’t exist and you can really appreciate the beauty around you.  We managed to add about 15 km but no one cared, it was so beautiful and it felt so good to pedal along in the clean sea air under the falling leaves and silver poplars.  We passed by impressive Dutch estates, embassies, canals, and about a thousand other happy bikers and walkers.  Destination:  Scheveningen, with white sand beaches framed by beachside restaurants.  

It felt great to sit down and sip a rum & hot chocolate and enjoy some tacos before we turned back to Katwik, this time selecting the correct pathway.   All was going well until I passed through a sandy patch and suddenly heard an ominous crash behind me.   Rick was rear guard and I knew he had gone down, and  by the time I stopped he was already bouncing up, assuring many concerned passerbys that he was just fine.   Yes, just fine unless you count a knee that left most of its skin on his pant leg, a wrist that kind of got bent backwards, and a few other unmentionables.  After a good dusting off and more assurance to some Nordic beauties who hovered over him, we all mounted up and continued the next 2-3 km back to Katwik.   Reverse order of bus/train/tram and we found ourselves back at #1 Tweede Jan Van Der Heiden Straat, just in time to put our feet up, have a hot bath, apply antiseptic cream, Band-Aids and then enjoy a final cocktail.

It has been the most magical day to end this incredible journey.   Tomorrow our cab arrives at 8:30 am and we’re in for about a 14 hour journey home.   I can only hope that we will have the same flawless connections and efficiency that we enjoyed today, minus the crash!   😳  Holland, you have my ♥️.

The Most Important Thing Today Is:

 

Posting this with some delight and relief, as I sip a celebratory glass of wine after dealing with ArriveCAN for more then a few hours this morning.  If anyone is considering international travel anytime soon, I have a few helpful hints for you.   The most important one is that someone needs a functioning IPhone, because security codes must be forwarded in order to open certain documents, like this one, above.   Thank goodness for Dave’s cell plan or we would not have been able to access this delightful news, nor upload it to ArriveCAN along with our vaccination certificates, passports, potential quarantine plan, contact information and pretty much anything that they request.   When it’s time to come home, you just bend over and take it.  Then say thank you.  Because, you know, we’re Canadian, eh?

The Smart One of the family checked on bike rentals this morning to find they are closed on Sundays.   Fortunately this was before we boarded a series of trains and buses to begin the grand Biking Holland Adventure.   So, we have rebooked it for tomorrow, and what a fine way to spend our last full day in the Netherlands.   This morning we revisited Prinzengracht for our last canal stroll, stopping again at Hans & Gretel house for a bite and a hot chocolate.  Then by unanimous vote, returned to our little apartment for a few hours of down time.

The cab has been ordered for Tuesday morning 0830, plenty of time (one hopes) for our 12:30 flight to YYC and from there, to YQQ.   It’ll be a 13 hour trek but if the flight home is anything like the flight here, entirely pleasant and calm.  It is always a major reality shake to imagine being home after being so far away and it will take days until the full essence and flavor of this incredible holiday really settles.  I won’t flatter myself to compare it to a Hero’s Journey, but I will say that the takeaway is deep and has yet to be tapped and fully assimilated.  It will take time to sift and settle.   Once home, my plan is to self-quarantine for at least a few days, curl up with my happy papillon and dig into some office work that waits impatiently. Island reality.  It’s all good.

Tropenmuseum, Oosterpark

 A place to make you ponder while you wonder.  A museum of world cultures, world press photos, and a space that forces you to examine very tough questions like, if you had to flee your country with a single bag, what would you take?  Heartbreaking documentaries and dioramas real enough to transport you to the Dutch Colonial age and centuries beyond.  World Press consisting of 16 amazing photographers from World Press Photo’s African Photojournalism are on dazzling display.  This outstanding museum opens your view to the world, and cracks open the book to the human story and examines so much, especially the healing factors over the millennium from shamanism to voodoo to all the medicinal traditions around the world.  The building design is brilliant, a cochlea of three floors surrounding a marbled lobby, a sunny courtyard cafe that begs for hot chocolate, wine or a croissant.   It’s difficult to explain the feelings evoked from such a venue; I suspect the essence will take hours, if not days for me to really assimilate it all.

On our way home we went through Oosterpark, another jewel in the AMS greenway system.   It was an unexpectedly warm day, and the sun and the Saturday brought out the population.  Dogs were flying around having the time of their lives and everyone wandered so contentedly.   Without the privilege of back yards or large decks, the Amsterdammers head for the parks, and all are welcome.   There is such a happy, accepting vibe here, so completely non judgemental, that somehow I feel there is a lesson here for us all.

Covid tests are done, as efficient as unpleasant as they were.  Results in 24 hours.   We celebrated with a beer at the Irish pub, and then another one in a bar next to Albert Heijn’s.   Tomorrow, we will put the pedal to the metal.  Time to bike the Netherlands.   Two days to go!

De Hortus, Oude Kerk, Spui

 We had a mild, misty day as we walked the half-hour to de hortus botanicus Amsterdam, one of the oldest botanical gardens in the world.  What a glorious wander through a three climate greenhouse and gardens, butterfly houses and surrounding gardens, still generous with bloom even though it is well beyond the prime of the season.  Filled with weird and wonderful plants, some of which were incredibly rare and behind protective bars to ensure their survival on our very precarious planet.  Without further adieu, the hortus - 

This is the upside down version of the one below!

From here, a brief stop at Spui for a planning meeting, which concluded when we decided to wander across a few pleins to the oude kerk (old church).  Not a climbing church (thank goodness) but still outstanding in every way.   I cannot begin to describe my feelings when I am in a church that dates back to 1306, standing on inside graves that are worn smooth with the passage of time and a million wanderers over hundreds of years.  

Like me, this guy lost his head….

These carvings mark every choir seat, and they are hundreds of years old.  They are all different.

Somehow every church can afford the biggest, most exorbitant organ in Europe

Families bought the gravesites a thousand years ago and a then a keyhole was placed in each stone in order to haul it up and add the next generation when needed.  Economical but a little macabre!

We drifted home slowly and most certainly not in a straight line, which is not possible in Amsterdam.  A canal here, a bar there, some flowers to smell, some ancient books and maps to examine.   It’s all unhurried, mindful and so sweet.  So completely different from our N. American rush and efficiency.  This just feels so much more human.

Tomorrow marks our pre-flight Covid test, at 4 o’clock over at Albert’s.   A three minute walk, tops.  How lovely to provide this venue so close and free of charge to boot.   Our results will be in hand in 24 hours and unless something unexpected happens, that is all we will need in order to come back to Canada on Tuesday.  That, and a fifty page dissertation for ArriveCAN.  But before then, there will be another canal to walk.  Suddenly we’re running out of time and the clock is ticking far too loud. 

Albert Cuyp Market

 Thanks to an enthusiastic Amsterdammer party last evening (not us), we were a bit short on sleep this morning and decided to postpone biking for a day or two.  Instead we strolled Albert Cuyp, delighting in the sounds, colors, scents and variety of temptations.   Beginning with a hot chocolate and morphing into cannolis and truffles, there is no “no” in the vocab today so hopefully the upcoming biking and the usual 20G worth of steps will offset some of the damage.  There are cafes and bars, flower shops and every kind of ethnic food bar you can imagine, from Turkish delight to falafel, stooop waffles, bitterballen and beyond.  Five blocks long and teeming with shoppers, there is a constant international babble to delight the ears.  So for today, enjoy Albert’s!

Spreading strooopwaffles with honey

8 year old aged Gouda at about a tenth of the price in Canada!

A few euros buys the most beautiful fresh bouquets!

Fish chowder for tonight, but none of this will be in it (I hope!)

Cashews are sold freshly roasted and still warm

I swear that the most beautiful flowers in the world are grown and sent to Holland, and the leftovers to stores in Canada where they triple the price!

What calories?  No calories here!

Gallery day

 Some days defy description; this was one.  When the universe seems to move the Amstel river, unintentional exploring becomes a delight.  

Anyway, this is how it began:

European hot chocolate is nothing like N. American.  Nothing.  Especially when rum is added.

Rick had been dying to try Dutch pancakes.  These are topped with a blend of apple slices and a lot of cinnamon, served with syrup and dusting sugar and need I say more?

Our plans for a free concert at The Royal Concertgebouw were stymied by locked doors.  Assuredly they were still suffering from Covid-related restrictions.  And so, we headed to Spiegelgracht to walk the galleries.  And I lost my heart to a Dutch artist and his rendering of corpulent Dutch ladies enjoying a merry lunch together.  A magnifying glass hung beside the painting in order to really appreciate the fine detail and application of gold throughout a truly stunning work of work.   Without a price tag.  Which was probably just as well, since it was definitely in the six-figure range.  And, worth every penny.

To absorb and pontificate upon the treasures we had just viewed, we found a hidden cafe on a straat.  There we sat under balconies 400 years old, feeling the weight and the beauty of our surroundings.   Very Venice-like.

Complete with nightmarish gargoyles and Golems to frown upon us…

Little Venice.

After our artistic reflection, things got a little muddled as we revised our plan A (take the tram home) to, let’s walk, “I am positive I know the way home.  All we have to do is find the Amstel and follow that!”.  So like the lemmings we are, puddled along behind Dave and waited for the sudden jerk of his head that meant he was on course.   That never happened.  “Sunoffabitch!  Some bastard moved the Amstel!”.  Cue spooky music.

Plan C.   Let’s just keep walking and find a bar.   Unanimous vote.  So we found…

And then somehow we wound up at the Science Center and then across an Art Deco bridge wherein I embraced my 10-year-old self… “Look at me with my BIG brother!”

We made it home after a hitch or two, both entirely pleasant and involving Amstel beer.  And tonight there is another platter of Dutch cheese, seedy bread and a warm sack of duck and pork (the duck and pork were entirely responsible for our veering off course, but who cares?  And why do ducks have it in for us?)

Here’s a shot of a typical Dutch doggy.  They ride in the front basket of the bikes, they are everywhere, and they are the happiest creatures on earth.   Just like this guy.

Tomorrow…. Biking in Leiden.   No ducks.  No maps.  No Amstel River.   Pray for us.

Trams, Trains and Beautiful Delft

 Delft accidently blew itself off the planet, aka the Delft Thunderclap, which happened on 12 October 1654.  A gunpowder store exploded (30 tons of gunpowder makes a BIG bang) and took a great deal of the city and inhabitants with it.  Thus, parts of Delft are on the “young side” of the European age scale.  The Nieuwe Kerk (New Church) was unaffected and there the House of Orange family gang hangs out in crypts and graves, which are ornate and moving.   But, our family has a personal claim to fame In the New Church and that is, it has twice been scaled by Sir David of Nowhere and Everywhere.   Today his goat-like legs took him up (and down) all 351 steps.  He was typically nonplussed and physically relaxed when we met him at the Heineken cafe for a celebratory beer.  

This is a charming and inviting corner of Holland to visit.  The town squares are beautiful, surrounded by interesting shops and many tempting restaurants and bars.   It was a bit of a challenge to find our way here from AMS because the usually efficient Dutch train system had a screen freeze going on at Centraal and so we kind of had to guess our way.   Dave guided us flawlessly through a pause and leap at Leiden and shortly thereafter, we were immersed in the colors of Delft.  A superlative day, in every way.

This is the church that Dave scaled, all the way to the top of that clock!

The train station at Centraal, efficient, precisely on time (but sometimes the screens stop working!)

Apparently the lean of the Old Church is almost two metres off plumb, but the four corner towers replaced in 1900 were straight.  Whatever that means!

Up the Amstel and beyond

We were graced with fine weather again today, so a canal walk was in order.  This time, we wandered up the beautiful Amstel River and from there, over to Prinsengracht, a beer and a bite to eat in a delicious Italian restaurant at canal’s edge, and then a wander through the Bloemenmarkt, where it broke my heart to find out that not a single bulb is exportable, unless you want to pay a hefty fine.  There were Amaryllis bulbs the size of coconuts and tulips of more shapes and colors than there are words to describe.  

Over lunch (and shored up with a pint of Dutch courage), I blithely announced I wanted to climb someplace high and take some photographs.   And the old (and I do mean old) Westerkerk was just the venue to do that.  A few centuries old and complete with circular rickety staircase (with a rope to help you hoist) along with wooden, uneven stairs, it was redolent of history, especially since our guide came along with us to fill in the historical gaps.  The climb was not arduous but did require concentration and I was happy for a few stops along way.   At the top, we shuttled through a tiny door and out to the most incredible vista of old Amsterdam.  A tiny circular pathway gave a 360 degree view, and our guide and Dave had some amiable chats about the changes seen over the last thousand years or so.   While they chatted, I was quietly coming to the realization that I am not as comfortable hanging off a precipice as I used to be.   So I kind of plastered myself up against the wall and kept my feet solidly grounded, even if my imagination was everywhere but.  But wait, the best part was the descent.  During the first part, one needs to back down the narrow, winding stairs.   And that’s when I discovered that I don’t have much blind faith or back-up beepers left either.  But, in for a dollar and with a little encouragement/shove from Dave, I swung my beam south and down I went.   Not as bad once I had begun and within a reasonable amount of time we were back on the cobblestones and I was dealing with a light case of leftover vertigo.  But, I did it!  Rick, who was nursing sore hips from a lot of wandering, wisely elected to wait for us in the pub across the street but said he knew when he heard the bells ring that it was us standing beneath.  And so we were.

With Dave’s guidance and tram expertise we caught rides to Rembrandt park and had a sweet wander amongst the green pathways before returning home via Albert Cupymarkt to load up on fresh flowers, cod filets and a nutty baguette.  The wine and/or rum has just been poured and plans are cooking for our trip to Delft early tomorrow morning.   Where I highly doubt I will be climbing any Medieval staircases!

Sweet, quiet Sunday

Three weary warriors slept in outlandishly late, nearly noon for the guys and about 10 for me.   I am not on AMS time despite my best efforts and usually I am awake at midnight and stare at the ceiling until just before dawn.  After so much exercise yesterday we were all happy to call this a rest day, starting with a beautiful brunch in a cafe and then a gentle walk around the park.   More short walks around surrounding blocks to orient ourselves, a challenging feat given that streets are not always straight and sometimes a canal appears out of nowhere.  We continue to luck out with benevolent weather, warm and sunny during the day and cool at night, great for sleeping.  Ummm, that is for those who can sleep.

For today, here is a peaceful picture of a heron, duck and a turtle sharing a quiet spot in the pond at the park.  This evening Dave will attend a flamanco guitar concert in town but I’ve chickened out as it’s an indoor venue.  I am still cautious and feel very out of place in this cosmopolitan city of unmasked, obviously bursting with health, Amsterdammers.  Their statistics speak for themselves, a very high vaccination rate and an R-value of just under 1.  Free pop-up Covid test clinics are everywhere, and their efficiency has made it easy for them to celebrate excellent stats.  Despite predictions of a dramatic Delta rise, the opposite is happening and I am ever hopeful we are moving quickly towards an endemic phase of this challenging time.  

And on that happy note, good morning or good night, depending on where in the world you are reading this!

21,402 steps

 A day in the life, beginning with a tall latte and appletorte….

This is NOT pie, not even close.  It is a blend of tart, sweet and juicy apples laid tenderly over a sponge cake and topped with angel’s breath and a wisp of celestial magic.  Gasp-worthy.

The cloudburst, when it hit, was brief and luckily we were in Albert’s picking up our daily groceries.  The plan today was to walk Prinsengracht, a leisurely stroll along one of the most beautiful and iconic canals jutting out from Centraam.   Good plan.  Until we got distracted by a street market, waylaid by a Birra Moretti on a cobblestone corner, and wound up in Vondel Park.   Which is like, win/win/win.

A brief segway for the historians.  The toilets (don’t call them washrooms, or the proprieters look at you blankly) in Holland are utilitarian affairs.  In a land where space is at a premium, it would be silly to budget extra on spacious staircases wide enough to accommodate a human foot.  Instead, passageways that require less than three feet in diameter are de regeur.   A friendly railing is usually installed, to give you hope, encouragement and confidence.  Bungee jumping to the loo is part of the fun, and then speelunking through the dark warrens makes one feel so accomplished, if not relieved.  Up is never as bad as down, but there may be physical reasons for that.

Beautiful Vondel Park was brimming with cheerful people enjoying their Saturday.  We strolled for almost two hours before finding our way out of the park and into an Italian cafe that poured a respectible sparkling wine a la Prosecco, and then the table was graced with panzenella and (for the fellows), paperthin Italian salamis and proscutto that was folded in a sheet of parchment.  A superlative corner to sit and watch the world wander by.

Walking home is always full of pleasant surprises, at least when you’re following my brother.   We know the general direction we’re going but never the streets, so we just keep veering in a general direction.  Rick chimed in occasionally, basing his directional sense on arriving aircraft, which was actually pretty valuable.   A park full of insensible, amazing and startling art entertained us, before picking up our bearings and arriving back to our cozy apartment on Sarphati Park.   Amsterdam is redolent with discoveries.  One just has to lift your eyes and pause.

Me, after I ducked my one millionth bicycle.   All I have left is nerves.

Big fat feet are up, dinner is being concocted and another day is done in this beautiful spot.  Goede Nacht, liefde aan allen.