Maria who now?


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Europe » Netherlands
May 10th 2013
Published: June 8th 2017
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Geo: 52.3738, 4.89095

Sometime during the night (just before 3:00, to be semi-precise) I woke up and wondered why someone was taking a shower at that ungodly hour. Turned out it was the wind making a tremendous racket. At 7:00, Schiphol had to alter the usual flight path for landing planes because of the winds, and that altered path was right over the hotel. Noisy? Yeah.

We started the morning by taking a tram to Dam Square and then another tram to near the Westerkerk and walked to the Anne Frank House. I've been twice before and thought about sitting this one out because I'm sneezing and blowing my nose every few minutes. In the end, I decided to go on in because I figured it'd at least be warmer inside. That wind was still whipping hard enough to make my eyes water, mostly because it was whipping my hair right into my eyes. It's times like this that I wish I had long hair that could be put in a ponytail.

The queue to get in was already a couple of blocks long but we, of course, had a reservation so were able to waltz right in. (As someone said afterwards, when the queue was even longer, "Rick Steves rocks!"😉 We were given a little presentation by one of the docents first, which I've never had before. It helped to be reminded of Anne's story, and it was also startling (even to the docent) to realize that today, May 10, is the 73rd anniversary of the invasion of Holland.

I can't imagine living in near silence and stillness for two years with seven other people, even if three of those people were your family. If it had been just the Frank family who had gone into hiding, the secret annex would have provided plenty of room, but the addition of three other adults and a teenager meant they were pretty crammed in and there wasn't much in the way of privacy.

I usually get near-hysterical when I see Anne's actual diary, which is on display in a special room, but I managed to hold it together this time. What got me was a short interview with Otto Frank, the only survivor. I'm sure I've seen it before but this may be the first time it actually seeped into my consciousness.

Afterward, we walked a little farther into the Jordaan neighborhood and went to a "coffee" house. The Dutch are usually so straightforward that I'm not sure where the sudden wink-wink coyness comes from. Why not "smoke shops"? At any rate, you can get coffee and maybe some snack-type food in a coffee house, but that's obviously not the point. We all trooped in and listened to the owner, Ludo, talk about marijuana (which sounds like Maria Wanna when the Dutch say it) and the uses of hemp, what he sells, what regulations he abides by, etc. Of course, there were some regulars in the coffee shop too, so the experience wasn't exactly smoke-free. I was fortunately sitting right next to the door, which Ludo propped open, so I was getting fresh air. Even so, the smoky atmosphere started to get to me. I can't smell a damned thing. A few of us walked out to the sidewalk after ten minutes or so, and poor Dawn even felt really lightheaded. She was sitting right up front and kind of hemmed in in a corner, so that probably explains it. All I can say is, it was interesting and not a place I ever would have gone into on my own.

Rolinka trammed us back a few
Cat chasing miceCat chasing miceCat chasing mice

It's a bit hard to see. I just noticed this over a doorway next to our hotel.
stops and we walked through the Begijnhof (housing for single, Catholic ladies in distressed circumstances) and also into a few small courtyards that lie between the canal houses. We also walked through a public passageway that houses bits of art from the Amsterdam Museum, including a huge wooden figure of Goliath that apparently has moveable eyes. Rolinka freed us at Kalvertoren (small shopping center) and pointed out a few places for lunch. Jeff, Dawn and I went to La Place (which I remembered from 2010), one of those eateries that has several different stations - grill, pasta, sandwiches, salads, etc. - and then one cashier. We managed to find a table and took it in turns to go get our food. Three guesses as to what I got. Give up? Ham sandwich on amazing bread. No cheese, but no less tasty for that.

Dawn and Jeff went off to the Resistance Museum after lunch (I've been), so I wandered around the shops for a while. I was tempted by a book in an all-English-language bookstore, but I didn't buy it! Such amazing strength I have! I looked for a pack of Kleenex at Hema because I'm running low. Finally found some, but I had to buy an eight-pack. At least it was only one euro. Walked most of the way back to the hotel, but took the tram for one stop.

At 5:30 we met for our farewell dinner at Haesje Claes, a restaurant spread across several canal houses and that mostly has private dining rooms. I like it when the group gets its own room because then it doesn't seem like we're bothering the other diners with our noise level. We had pre-ordered our meals several days ago, but none of it rang a bell with me. When Heidi told me I had ordered goat cheese salad, I refused to believe her … until she told me the other choice was a Dutch fish plate. Anyway, big ol' slab of goat cheese with balsamic drizzled on top; it reminded me of Ireland. Then a very nice chicken filet with the mandatory plates of frites, and creme brûlée for dessert.

After dinner, Cathi stood up and made a little speech about how much we all appreciated our wonderful guides. Heidi had broken the elevator in Delft and, in fact, had been stuck between floors. When they finally got the doors open, people had to reach down to help Heidi out. Cathi said that if that happened again, we wouldn't be around to help her, and then she gave her a toy squeaky horn so she could call for help. And because Rolinka talked a few times about her farmhouse in the south of France that she and her husband are remodeling so they can open an agriturismo, Cathi gave her a very feminine tape measure. Best. Guide gifts. Ever. We had also all signed cards for Rolinka and Heidi.

Rolinka gave us all envelopes with messages from her and Heidi, along with prints of our buddy picture, the group picture on the beach, and another random shot of everyone (in which I am hidden behind everyone). And she talked about how a true souvenir -- a memory -- is better than any souvenir you can buy in a store, but that only reminded me that I forgot to buy a calendar for next year, so now I have a mission at the airport tomorrow.

The tram on the way back was very crowded. I was standing next to Heidi, and she was standing on the inside of the flappy barriers right next to the door. Two stops later, a man jumped on at the last minute and crowded Heidi back more toward me, so now he was right next to the door. Pretty soon, he took out a joint and stuck it in his mouth. Well, okay. I see people do that on the bus with their cigarettes so they can light up the second they get off the bus. But this guy then proceeded to light the joint. Heidi yelled at him, and he turned on her and asked if she was a policeman. "No, but I know you can't light that here." He wasn't a big guy but he was still kind of scary, and he said loudly, "I'm a policeman!" (Only he said it a lot more colorfully than that.) Heidi started to holler at him some more, so he swore and started punching the button to signal for the next stop. But when the doors opened, he didn't get off and just attempted to light his joint again. Heidi said in a voice that only a mother can manage, "Get off!" And then she pushed him off. He wheeled around and made a move at her, and for a split second I thought he might have a knife. But all he said (rather weakly, I might add) was, "Don't ever touch me again!" I snorted, "As if!" Doors closed and we were on our way again.

A young Dutch couple that was standing next to us and saw everything told Heidi that she did very well. I think they were pretty impressed. I know I was! The next stop was ours, and Heidi was all fired up. When we all convened on the sidewalk, Heidi was bouncing around like Rocky in the ring, and that silly horn in her bag kept squeaking. The whole thing was pretty awesome and definitely a fine souvenir.

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10th May 2013

I'm sure going to miss reading of your adventures abroad, but will be happy knowing you're back home, too. Safe travels, dear daughter!
10th May 2013

Go Heidi!! Wish I had that kind of nerve! Hope you have a safe and sane trip home. Can't wait to see you! Thanks for your fabulous journal writing!!
10th May 2013

Teresa, I have loved reading your blog. You make sure you include me in all future travel blogs! In fact I so enjoyed reading your very interesting, informative, humor-filled blogs that (please take no offense at this) I hope you leave ag
ain very soon!
11th May 2013

What a great grand finale--a bonafide European altercation on a subway! Wish you'd been filming. Sounds like it's been a wonderful trip. Thanks for all the stories and photos.

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