So here is Day 4 of our holiday - exploring Amsterdam!
We woke to a gorgeous morning - clear blue sky and sunshine, at last! We decided to get out and enjoy it straightaway, by walking down the pleasant cobbled streets alongside the canals in search of breakfast. So many people in Amsterdam cycle and there were far fewer cars than any other city I've ever been to. The only issue as a pedestrian was to ensure that you didn't get in the way of any cyclists, but that proved to be a lot easier than dodging cars and mopeds had been in Paris!
The morning was truly stunning, and we kept pausing to admire the views and take photos.
We soon found ourselves in the Western Canal Ring where we stumbled across a perfect little cafe for breakfast called Pancakes! which does what it says on the tin - pancakes! I ordered a Dutch pancake with chocolate, and my husband went for a deluxe Dutch pancake with chocolate and banana. They were scrumptious, as we had anticipated, as well as huge! The waitress was lovely and friendly so my husband took the opportunity practise some more Dutch by saying, "Heerlijk!" when she came to clear our table and asked us if we'd enjoyed our pancakes, which means "Delicious!" She was delighted and gave us a few other phrases to practise during our stay. She also gave us a little clog keyring with our receipt, which is now attached to my camera bag.
Such an indulgent breakfast meant that a long walk was on order, so we headed over to the Vondelpark. As soon as we walked through the park's gates we were greeted with the vibrant colours of autumn, the trees ablaze with oranges and reds. We meandered around the lakes, where my husband was delayed for several minutes taking pictures of a very photogenic heron. We continued along woodland paths, through flower gardens, over bridges, past lively fountains, and sat for awhile by a stage area that is presumably is abuzz with outdoor theatre on summer evenings. It was blissful, and the air felt so fresh.
Feeling thoroughly chilled we made our way back into the centre of the city, soon surrounded by the hustle and bustle of tourists. We were so busy admiring the beautiful buildings, many of which are old warehouses that have been converted into homes and businesses, that we hadn't realised we had reached the Medieval District, otherwise known as the Red Light District. We were soon affronted by the site of other Brits out in loud, rowdy groups on stag and hen parties, and groups of nervous but excited teenage boys looking for 'coffee shops' and possibly something else. I have to admit that I was more intimidated by the crowds than by anything else. It was a bit like a Saturday night out back at home gone slightly wrong and at odds with the very picturesque setting.
It probably didn't help that I was getting hungry again. It was with considerable relief that we found a bakery just on the outskirts of the district, where we bought some sandwiches for lunch. We found a bench to stop and eat, and to consult the map.
We decided to go back across to the Western Canal Ring and see Anne Frank Huis. It didn't take long for the morning's calmness to return as we made our way back along the canals to join a long queue waiting to get into the house, but thankfully we didn't have to wait too long to get inside the museum.
The original house is now contained inside another building which forms the start and finish of the museum tour. Almost immediately you walk into a room designed to emulate the warehouse that Otto Frank had worked in, and there are quotes from Anne's diary on the wall. This instantly changed the atmosphere from the entrance - which has a very classy, contemporary feel - to pulling you right back to the Amsterdam of the early 1940s. With each step the atmosphere became stronger, and before long you are in the offices, and then through the door into the Secret Annexe where the Franks lived with the Van Daans and Mr Van Dassel for two years, before they were discovered by the Nazis in 1944.
I can't really put into words how it felt walking through those rooms. They are unfurnished and have not been made into replicas of how they were once laid out, as Otto Frank requested that they remain empty. Even so, there was something tangible about the place, a strong sense that people had really lived there, more so than in many of the other historical buildings I've visited - and as you know, I've been to several. This had been their reality, and there was something about the space that made that hit home for me, more than the excellent TV dramatisations of Anne Frank's diary had done. It really helped to imagine what it must have been like living in that cramped space for so long, not being able to go outside at all, especially in the case of Anne, her sister Margot, and Peter Van Daan, growing up in there.
The last part of the exhibition within the old house was the most emotional. Firstly there were information panels on what had become of the Franks and Jews like them after they had been sent to the concentration and death camps. This was information I knew well from school, yet it still had the power to shock and anger me when I was confronted with it again. Then there was a video on repeat of Otto Frank talking about his daughter and the discovery of her diary that his old assistant, Miep, had kept just in case, and how he had not been able to read it immediately. I just could not imagine the grief Otto Frank must have gone through upon escaping the war alive but finding that none of the rest of his family had done.
Finally there was the diary itself. Again, it is strange to see something like that behind a glass case, but I still felt able to picture Anne writing in it. I remembered myself at 14 and thought how I would have coped in the same situation. The only thing I can say for sure is that I would have written too but I am not so sure I could have faced it so bravely or so philosophically.
There is a legacy in a place like the Anne Frank Huis that forces you to think about what oppression really means, how it can lead into some of the most devastating and evil acts in history, and that is why we must keep learning from the past and never give up on hope.
We were both in a particularly pensive mood after that, and quietly wandered back to our hotel to rest for a bit before deciding where to go for dinner.
We chose the easy option of the steak house down the street, called Piet de Leeuw. It was packed when we arrived, filled predominantly with Dutch people in large and small groups, their voices rising to the ceiling. We absorbed the jovial atmosphere as we sat and waited for the owner of the restaurant found a way to squeeze us in. We were seated at a large round table that was already occupied by an older American couple, who greeted us briskly and then continued their conversation. Nervously we looked at the menu and picked out our steaks - I went for one with extra mushrooms, and my husband chose one with extra onion. It was only then that we realised that we had been given the French menu! Both pleased and amused that we had been mistaken for French we couldn't believe how we hadn't noticed that it wasn't written in English or Dutch. We had just sat there and made our choices without giving it a second thought - obviously our brains were still a bit stuck in Paris mode!
The steaks were fantastic, as was the ice cream that followed. The menu was simple, with not too much choice, but it was obvious that the place is very popular with the locals, which was sign enough for us that it was somewhere worth eating at, and we were glad not to have been proven wrong.
We went for a brief walk around the nearest canal before heading back to the hotel and promptly falling asleep. As I closed my eyes I smiled at the thought that Amsterdam had already worked its way into my top three cities, just behind Rome and London.
I had to read the diary of Anne Frank in middle school. I didn't appreciate it at the time.
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