Day 7- Paris to Amsterdam


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Europe » Netherlands » North Holland » Amsterdam
July 1st 2010
Published: July 3rd 2010
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We were able to sleep a little later because we didn't have that much of a busy day ahead of us. We weren't going to be running around seeing 6 or 7 things in such a short space of time. Again downstairs, we had croissants and baggettes, for the last time in that small hotel, and made our way back upstairs to pack all of our things up into our bag to take on the train to Amsterdam. But the train wouldn't leave until the afternoon so we were able to go out for a little bit in the morning.

Dad had been planning a walk for quite a while to do on the last morning in Paris, so we checked out of the hotel, and, leaving the bags in the bag room, and taking the small bag with us we made our way out and along the streets to the north, where we had rarely been previously. Our map showed that the easiest way would be to walk along two boulevards, but we decided to walk along the small streets and alleyways and zigzag our way to where we wanted to go. Eventually we found a tree lined avenue, which was quite nice, and found a small bakery to have morning tea. I had a pastry which had chocolate topping and lots and lots of cream in the middle. Dad had a vanilla slice which again had lots and lots of cream. We ate it by a gazebo that was under some trees with lots of kindergarten children running around in a really small playground, which made us think how lucky we were to live where we live.

We finished our pastries and continued along the avenue. Dad, with the map, guided us along a street back to the main boulevard. From there we could see the world famous Moulin Rouge. Because it was daytime, it wasn't open, the same as the rest of the shops in the district, but there was a big red windmill on top, which made it look nothing like the last place in Paris to perform the original can-can. I had heard of it before, but I had never known what it was until we got there. Dad peered through the window, but there wasn't much else we could do there, so we made our way up another side street.

This street lead us to a cemetery which was nothing like the ones back home. Back home, the graves were layed out in individual tombstones in narrow rows with lots of grass and lots of flowers in pots and the graves themselves are beautifully carved when they are new with Christian crosses above the grave. Here, it was family tombs, with rooms that had an old door, that was either rotten or made so you could see through. The tombs themselves were probably a metre by a metre in floorspace, and two metres tall with a sign saying the famiy name. There wasnt room to fit coffins inside, so we decided that they were just dumped in the ground, and the grave details were carved into the wall. Some of the tombs were as old as the early 1800s but others where relatively new as well. We walked around, looking at all of the different types and noting the dates and family names. Over the cemetry though, they had built a massive road bridge that was really disrespectful to the people buried under it and really out of place.

We walked around for a while and found an exit, and made our way to the steep cobblestone streets that lead up to the Sacre-Coeur. The streets themselves were amazing, really really old and really nice to walk through. We passed the door that used to belong to the famous artist, Vincent van Gough. The streets climbed steeply as we made our way up and up, and the shops beside us sold new paintings and interesting souviners. We found our way to a square, from which we could see how high we were above the rest of Paris. This square had several shops around the outside, selling gifts and art and food and souviners. At the square were lots of artists, some who painted scenery such as places in paris or streets that they could remember from being there. They sold these paintings off to the public without making prints for a very low price considering the effort to make them. Other artists painted portraits of people. Infact there were alot of these, in different styles: black and white, or seipa or a ranbow of colours. We didn't have time for a portrait, because we had the train to catch in the afternoon, but we could see which artists were better and which ones were worse.

We left the square, and on the way I bought a number of old black and white photographs from around Paris, some historical like a train coming out of the top floor of a building, while others were taken then converted to black and white. They were all interesting though.

We made our way to the cathedral called Sacre Coeur. It was alot smaller than Notre Dame or St. Pauls Cathedral, and didn't have x-rays or have to buy tickets. We just walked straight in. The other two that we had been more impressive, but it was still impressive, considering all the churches in our local area were very small. It had a dome at the top like St. Pauls, and the structure of the roof was alot like Notre Dame. There were amazing stain glass windows that we could see out of. We spent a bit of time there, looking around at the structure and the layout and how it is set up.

We left the cathedral and looked out down the steps and out into Paris. We could see all of the places we had been before: Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tour, anywhere where we had been able to see Sacre Coeur. We walked down the steps and zigzagged our way through the small streets back towards our hotel. For lunch, we stopped at a bakery where Dad had his last French Baggette and I had a small pizza. We sat and took our last relaxed look at Paris before hurrying off back to the hotel to pick up our bags and leave again. We headed towards the Gare du Nord, the station we had come in at. We expected to go through customs and immigration to leave the country, but we were told just to wait until we were called and board the train. We weren't required to show our passports to anybody. I sat down and looked after the bags while Dad went off to find something to eat. But he didn't find anything before the train was called, so we made our way to the very end of the platform and boarded the train, in the Second Class Coach 15.

It was a Thalys train that would stop at Brussels and Antwerp in Belgium, and then Rotterdam, Amsterdam Airport and Amsterdam in Holland. Half of the train would detach in Belgium because we were two trains stuck together. The train was the same style as the TGVs, but were Red and still managed to travel at 300 kph. We slowly left the station but quickly built up speed. Dad read his book and I typed away on the computer, and before we knew it, we had arrived in Brussels. There, we had some difficulties trying to connect to the internet, but we mangaged to but it was slow. At Brussels we jumped off and on the train to say that we had been in Belgium. Before we knew it though, we were in Holland, headed for Rotterdam and then Amsterdam. However, our train came to a stop, and none of us knew why. Then there was a loudspeaker call and we all listened carefully. It told us that we weren't to get off the train. We waited there for a while and headed off again, slowly and cautiosly before stopping. We were told that in a tunnel up ahead, there had been an incident, not sure what of, but we had to make a detour around it which meant not using the high speed line and taking a little longer. Our train made our way to a station before heading back in the other direction, which meant that we were facing forwards and not backwards.

We arrived in Rotterdam without any troubles, and spent most of the time to Amsterdam listening to other people: a boasting American at the front of the carraige, and two Irishmen behind us. When we arrived in Amsterdam, we got off our train and headed outside. The first thing that we saw was the old canals and the old houses. We bought a map and headed off towards the hostel we were staying in. The streets that we walked through were lined with old houses on one side, and quite often a canal on the other. They were very narrow streets, paved with bricks and could only let one very slow and very cautious line of traffic through. All of the fences on the edge of the canal and the bridges and the edge of the houses were all lined with parked bikes. Because the streets are so narrow it is easier to ride than to drive. And because the city is below sea level, the ground is really sandy which means that the foundation to alot of the buildings is not 100% solid, so quite a lot of them are leaning to one side or forwards or backwards and effort has been made to not let it move any further. It was evident when you looked along the edge of the buildings and saw a mixture of leaning in and leaning out.

We found our way to the square, which was lined with cafes and had a large tower type building in the middle, which had also been converted into a cafe. We found the street where we had accommodation, and walked down it and found it. It was a Christian Youth Hostel, where all the staff are volunteers who pay to work there. We checked in, and took our bags upstairs to the 16 person room that we were staying in. There were several people laying in bed already, in some of the 14 other beds, so we locked our valuables in our locker and left for a walk around the streets. Dad lead the way through the narrow streets, some on the edge of the canal, others not, and through the red light district which Amsterdam is famous for, and to the main square. We had dinner at an Argentinian restraunt, he had a steak while I had spareribs. It was well cooked and quite nice. After we had eaten, Dad asked the waiter where to find a telephone shop, so we followed his directions, found one and Dad tried to ring Nana to work out when and where to meet up with her the following day.

We tried to walk back to the hotel, but we quickly found out how easy it is to get lost in Amsterdam. After consulting our map a couple of times, we found our way back to the hostel. Some people in our dorm were already asleep, others were still awake, so we lay in our beds and tried to get to sleep, but no-one else turned the lights out, so Dad did. And as you can imagine, 16 men sleeping in the same room would not be the quietest thing in the world.


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3rd July 2010

Brussel sprout.
Andrew, do I see that you found Evian water? Is that French? Nice beret too! I'm glad you made it to Sacre Coeur - good idea to walk the back alleys - I've heard its a very pretty place to walk. It's a shame you've finished with croissants and baguettes - what do they eat on the street in Amsterdam for breakfast / morning tea? I like your patisserie photos. Yum! I wonder what your thoughts were about the red-light district - simply supply and demand, who's got the power / free will / choice, does anybody get hurt??? Is sex industry regulation safer than no regulation? What's the feeling compared to the Moulin Rouge idea - where is the line crossed, or isn't it? Ben, you'll now have to come back and watch the Moulin Rouge movie. Today I trained the tomatoes, which are ripening, turned the compost, and fed the cows who followed me with the wheel barrow full of tomato prunings licking my elbow. No lambs yet. Harvested brocolli for tea, and I'm not sure if the glasshouse peas are sno, sugar snap or ordinary so what size to pick? We had some crazy visitors today - I wonder if you can guess who, Ben. I'm sure they'll facebook you about it. Le Tour doesn't screen until 2am, so I might try going to bed and getting up later as I stayed up til 2am last night watching the exciting Nederlands v Brasil match. But I'll be looking out for your Aussie flag and hope that Cadel puts in a top 5 performance.

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