I didn’t have any set schedule for today. My goals were to rent a bicycle, ride it around town, visit the Anne Frank House, find an Amsterdam basketball hoop photo and make it back to the airport on time for my flight.
Bikes are EVERYWHERE in Amsterdam. It is by far the most prominent form of transportation. This is so much the case that in many places they have roads adjacent to car roads with lights specifically designed to control bike traffic. In places where this isn’t the case it can sometimes be confusing as to who has the right of way. When you add pedestrians into the mix it can get downright messy at times. I wouldn’t want to drive a car in Amsterdam because I am certain that I would hit a bike rider. It is also interesting that virtually no riders wear helmets. This includes the multitude of little kids who are riding around in seats on their parent’s bikes.
The bike shops open at 9 am and my goal was to be there when they opened as to not waste my limited time in Amsterdam. I did decently well, making it to the “Yellow Bike” shop by 9:30.
Renting the bike was a fairly painless process although it took forever because the employees at the place were in no hurry to register me and take my money. Eventually I got my giant old Schwinn looking bike and began on my adventure to explore Amsterdam.
As previously mentioned the site I most wanted to see in the city was the Anne Frank Museum. The home where the Frank family hid during WWII and the majority of Anne’s diary was written is located in downtown Amsterdam. It is set up as a museum and viewable to the general public. Anne’s words are displayed throughout the home and poignantly describe what the reality must have been like to live in constant fear and such a confined space. The home itself really was not that small. Their secret hiding place would have actually been an okay sized flat in London. The problem of course is that they could NEVER leave. Additionally the windows were covered in black out. This of course just served to make the space feel even smaller.
My favorite parts of the museum included the stairways, hidden bookshelf, attic and height wall. The stairs were incredibly steep in this house. One stairway runs from the ground floor to the third floor and I would guess that it is at a 65 degree angle. After the Franks had been in hiding for a while the couple who owned their home decided that they should put in a bookshelf to hide the passageway to the secret rooms. I can’t believe anyone would have ever found the secret space without first knowing it was there. The attic was another cool place in the house. This had one window that those in hiding could access to see a tree and some blue sky. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to have that one window as your only window to the world. Finally, my most favorite part of the museum was that the Frank family kept a height growth chart for the kids on the wall. This really drove home how long they were in hiding because the kids legitimately grew a few inches. Personally, I also think height walls really represent home and family. I have great memories of our family’s wall. It is just so unspeakably sad that the reality of their home and family was confinement and fear.
Overall I would highly recommend this museum to anyone visiting Amsterdam. It is laid out well, full of interesting short little movies, quotes and artifacts. Experiencing the actual site really allows a young girl’s words to come to life in a way that nothing else can.
After completing my trip to the Anne Frank Museum I had to run back to the hotel to check out of my room. I decided to spend the remaining four or so hours I had just riding around town checking out the sites and looking for basketball hoops.
My overall feeling on the city is that it is gorgeous. The canals are relatively clean, have very pretty boat traffic and the architecture is spectacular. I really had no idea how pretty it was going to be. In general I felt the signage around town was not very good. Unlike many foreign cities I found the English signage to be quite limited. I was surprised by this too, since everyone in Amsterdam speaks English. I also didn’t find the streets to be set up in a very intuitive manner. I’m sure this a byproduct of both navigating around the canals and the age of the city.
My first stop on my bike was through Westerpark. It looked like a fairly big park on my map. I figured it might have a court and at a minimum would be a pretty ride. It was a pretty ride but it was also pretty frustrating. According to the signs in the park there was supposed to be a “korfball” court. This is a game described as “a lively hybrid of netball, volleyball and basketball… where players ultimately target a 3.5m hoop” in the Lonely Planet. I wanted to see what the hoops looked like so I spent way too much time trying to locate the court. I suppose I could have stopped and asked someone but the odds are quite good they would not have been helpful anyway. Eventually I located what I am 95% sure to be the “court”. Conveniently there were not any hoops erected at the moment. Basically I had just wasted a good hour looking for something that appeared not to exist.
At this point I decided I was hungry. I stopped in a trendy looking bar located in the park. The menu wasn’t in English, which again I found surprising. The only word I recognized for certain was as “Bitterballs”. Bitterballs are evidently a traditional Dutch food consisting of minced meat and sometimes cheese and potatoes. The mixture is then rolled into a ball and coated with a chicken nugget like crust. Then, of course, they are fried. I liked my bitterballs ;~)
The waitress in this place was unusually friendly, so I decided to ask her if she knew of any basketball hoops. She thought about it and came up with a place. She also said that there were quite a few around town, she just couldn’t specifically remember where. I was comforted to hear this because in my previous 24 hours in Amsterdam I hadn’t seen any.
The path I rode to the waitress’ recommended court was beautiful. The majority of it ran along a canal filled with neat old boats and surrounded by pretty architecture. Along the way I spotted a couple hoops that I documented. They were good but the one the woman recommended was the best. It was located in front of the Rijksmuseum which is obviously a very famous museum but also an incredibly beautiful building. To see the building click here: http://www.essential-architecture.com/EUROPE/HOLLAND/AMS-M01.htm .
I had about one hour remaining after visiting the Museumplein. I didn’t have any specific points of interest remaining so I chose to ride my bike around to see more of the city. As I was riding near a park in an area with no car traffic I started to hear a whining motor behind me. It didn’t sound like a motor scooter but it was definitely mechanical. Within the next second or two a large women on a “Rascal” passed me. A rascal is the infomercial name for the scooters that they have in stores for handicap people or if you prefer, the one George rode around on in a classic episode of Seinfeld. It was hilarious. I am certain that when she passed me she cursed me out in Dutch. I may have been in an area designated for pedestrians as opposed to bikes, but as I previously mentioned, to a foreigner that distinction is not always easy to make. She was also hauling butt. I was moving at a pretty good clip (15 mph or so) and she flew by me. Who knew a Rascal could go that fast? Maybe she had the governor removed. She seemed like that type of woman ;~)
At around 3 p.m. I decided I should probably start heading back towards Central Station to catch my flight. I had taken a couple bicycle only roundabouts (yes, they have such things in Holland) and I had no idea which way to go. The roads aren’t really set on any sensible grid and there isn’t anything super tall in the horizon (ie mountains or really tall buildings) to use as a guide. I decided to just stop and ask someone. He looked at me like I was crazy and said, “You are really far from Central Station. It is at least an hour ride from here.” I didn’t think I could be that far away. I thanked him and set out riding the direction he told me. After five or so minutes of riding I asked another person which way was Central Station to be sure that I was still moving in the right direction. Her reaction was, “I’m pretty sure it is that way (she pointed) but it is really far from here.” I said thanks, grinned and continued riding the direction she told me to go. After another ten minutes of riding I checked with a third person to make sure I was still going the right direction. She looked at me like I was nuts. Said it is “Over there. But it is a long way from here.” At this point I was like, “it can’t still be THAT far away.” I was confident I was moving in the right direction. Within five more minutes of riding I started to recognize buildings and I knew where I was. Within 25 minutes from when I started I was back to Yellow Bike. I wanted to go and tell the first guy I asked for directions that unlike most Europeans, Americans do things with purpose. In this case that meant peddling at more than the typical leisurely Dutch pace.
My over arching feeling on the train ride out to the airport was that I wish I had a few more days in Amsterdam. If I had been there longer, I would have taken one of the guided bike rides out into the country, taken a boat cruise along the canals, gone in a few more of the museums and eaten more waffles. I didn’t expect to get to see the whole place in 36 hours but I also didn’t expect to like it as much as I did. Amsterdam is definitely a place which I plan on returning.
Believe it or not absolutely nothing noteworthy happened on my flight back to London. This is also a shocker. I slept the whole flight. Being that this was the second time I had arrived at Heathrow in less than three days, I was pretty familiar with where to go. I took the Heathrow express to Paddington, hopped on the Tube to Baker and was back in Nicole’s apartment within an hour of landing.
I wanted to take Nicole out to dinner on Saturday night as a thank you for letting me stay at her place. I let her pick the restaurant. She picked a trendier and slightly fancy pub in Prim Rose Hill called the Engineer. The place was very charming and the food was surprisingly good. We split a chicken pate for an appetizer. Nicole had a lamb dish that she said was good. I had a sirloin served with “baker fries.” Baker fries were what Americans would think of as really thick cut fries. They were basically small potatoes cut in quarters and fried. It’s pretty hard to go wrong with that.
By the time Nicole and I finished dinner it was 11:30 p.m. I was exhausted from going nonstop since my arrival in Europe, so I voted for an “early” bedtime. Nicole decided to come back to the flat as well. Which leads us to now… I am tired and calling it a night… I’ll write again soon!
Katy
This is the bike I rode around Amsterdam. I constantly had two songs in my head while pedaling. The first was from the Wizard of Oz. I kept hearing the theme music for the Wicked Witch of the West… “duhn duhn duhn na na, duhn duhn duhn na na.”
More recently a popular “digital-short” from Andy Samberg of SNL has spread around the Internet. It’s called “I’m on a boat”. In my head I kept hearing that but instead the lyrics were “I’m on a bike.”
I am relieved to finally be in London after taking 22 hours to get here from the East Coast. The trip was LONG and obviously made more complicated by the fact that my first flight was cancelled. That, however, didn’t stop me from continuing to have fun with my people watching, even while on the plane.
While I was in the Red Carpet Room in DC I noticed a man who looked like he was in his fifties traveling with his mom who could have been anywhere from 70-85. There was something about the dynamic between them that made me notice them. I’m not sure what it was but the bottom line is I noticed.
When I boarded my flight the son was talking to one of the flight attendants. It looked like he was trying to finagle an upgrade (he was probably shot down like I was by the Red Carpet people). I noticed his ticket said 7A on it, which meant he was already in business class. On United 767’s the new international configuration is great in business. It’s a flat bed. First has a few more toys and the seat is a little wider but I wouldn’t spend the money or the miles to go from business to first on that equipment (that means plane in business ;~) )
I proceeded back to my seat and worked on getting settled. I was disappointed when I arrived at 23C because there was a coat covering 23D and 23E. This most certainly meant that I didn’t have the whole row to myself and it possibly even meant the row would be full. That of course, was my worst nightmare. The guy with the jacket eventually showed up back at his seat. He was a friendly enough fellow and sharing a row with him would have been alright. Unfortunately one of the last passengers to enter the plane came straight to our row. I’m guessing she was seventeen. She was not tiny and not quiet. She was on the phone when she arrived at 23D with her hands full of Wendy’s. Fortunately she didn’t have a ton of luggage. She tried to climb over me, but I quickly offered to get up. I sort of stumbled in the process because she didn’t want to back up out of my personal space to allow me to make room for her. Having a middle seater that is unaware of personal space is NEVER a good thing.
When the flight attendant announced that the door would be closing shortly I started scoping the joint. It happened that the row behind us only had one guy, who was seated directly behind me. My access to the open seat was terrible, so I asked the man in our row if we would be willing to hop back a seat so we could all have open middle. He said he would “just for me”. At this point the girl in the middle offered, after he moves I’ll move to the aisle. Mentally I was thinking, “uhm, yes, that would in fact be the point of me asking him to move and then saying we all COULD HAVE AN OPEN MIDDLE.”
As the doors were closed the nice man jumped back a row and the girl in the middle moved to the aisle. She quickly established, however, that she thought all of the middle seat should be hers by putting all of her reading materials and uneaten Wendy’s on the seat. This was better than having her pillow and elbows in my space like they were two seconds before, so I just counted my blessings and moved on. This was made easier by the fact that my attention was distracted by something else.
There was a relatively cute but short guy sitting alone in the row of 24A&B. I think he was Australian, so the short part (maybe 5’8” would make sense). We “noticed” each other when he got on the plane but I was too tired and he was too short for me to make too much of an effort. As the plane started to taxi out of the gate, however, we shared a moment. The girl in my row who had proceeded to make another phone call of no importance and everyone else on the plane must have been in a trance because the Aussie and I seemed to be the only two people who noticed grandma from the Red Carpet Room walking down the aisle toward us. Keep in mind we are TAXIING on an ACTIVE runway. Usually when a person just stands in his/her seat on active runway a crew member goes nuts on the intercom. They either have terrible sightlines on the 767 or just weren’t paying attention at all because she made it from the first row in coach passed us before I hit my service bell for someone to come and find her. When the flight attendant finally did see her she had a conniption, running up the aisle to guide her back to her seat. I’m still not sure where she was going or what she was looking for. Perhaps it was her son. If so, she was heading the wrong direction since he was in business class.
As soon as the plane took off I put my seat back and fell asleep. I woke up some four hours into the flight to use the facilities. I came back to my seat with a cup of ice I snagged from a flight attendant for a soda I brought from the Red Carpet Room. If you’re wondering why I brought soda on the plane, United doesn’t serve any caffeine free diet soda on international runs. The Red Carpet Room had cans of Dieta Sierra Mist at the ready, so I grabbed two for my flight. After consuming my soda and eating a Luna bar I worked on falling asleep again. My eyes were closed but I wasn’t asleep yet when I got a weird feeling on my leg. I opened my eyes and realized that personal space girl had decided to lie down on the middle seat. Her head was towards me and 90% of her hair was flipped on me. I was wasn’t wild about the idea of her taking the WHOLE middle seat with her stuff, or with her body for that matter, but her hair all over ME really was too much. I did my best to put it out of my mind and fall asleep again. I must have succeeded because the next time I woke up getting hit with an elbow. The thing about this is that it wasn’t the girl from my row that hit me. Evidently she was traveling with other people and invited one of them to sit in our row. When I woke up I also noticed my shoes that were previously sitting under the middle seat were under my legs. Yet again I was annoyed but decided to just internalize it and try to sleep. I succeeded and the next thing I knew we were on our approach to Heathrow.
As I exited the plane one last funny thing happened. As I stepped into the jetway the wandering grandma was taking a seat in a wheelchair. As I walked past I heard her son’s opening words to the pusher of chair. They were simply “Good Luck”. I should have stuck around to hear the follow-up but I was anxious to get on my way.
Customs was fairly uneventful as was getting my luggage. I did experience a little difficulty with the ATMs however. I tried a few of them in the airport and all of my requests were denied. I never use my cash card at home, so before I left the Philly airport I checked to make sure my pin worked. It did, so I found this situation particularly frustrating. I decided that maybe the airport ATMs just didn’t like me and that I would start my adventure without any currency. I purchased a ticket on the “Heathrow Express to Paddington” as instructed by Nicole and was on my way.
At Paddington Station per Nicole I hopped in a cab. Fortunately it wasn’t too hard to find one that accepted Visa. My driver was a super nice guy and that was helpful because Nicole has a weird address. Her address isn’t a street address but rather a “house” or apartment building. It’s easy to find the cross streets but the actual building was harder to spot. On our third pass and after an unsuccessful call to Nicole on the cabbies cellie, he spotted the building. I hopped out and made my way to the front door. The address Nicole had given me was 1 Ridley House. The doorbell box on the wall only listed addresses for numbers 20-40. I wasn’t sure what to do. After much deliberation I decided I would just start ringing flats. I clearly upset a person or two. Not sure if this was because the people were unfriendly Brits or because of the early hour (it was roughly 7:30 am). After unsuccessfully ringing all 20 flats I decided to sit in front of the building on a bench hoping that Nicole might peak out the window looking for me. After a few minutes I decided that plan sucked, so I hauled my stuff over to the London Business School (LBS) to use its phone in an effort to get ahold of Nicole. If it isn’t clear yet, the Blackberry I have doesn’t work in Europe, so I am stuck in the late 80’s / early 90’s as it relates to mobile technology.
There were a few guys working at the main desk in the school and I talked them into letting me use the phone to call Nicole. I dialed and she didn’t answer. I got voicemail but it was of the nondescript variety. I left a message saying I was at LBS and it’d be great if she would just wander over whenever. Within a few minutes I saw Nicole heading across the street. I was relieved to have found my “home” for the next few days and am looking forward to taking a nap…
Day Four: 5/13/09
Foreign Soil Here I Come
It is now 3:45 am at the airport. Unfortunately the check-in desk doesn’t open until 4 am so I have been forced to sit in no mans land for the last three and half hours. It actually hasn’t been that bad. I did a little work (editing privacy policies is fun!), chatted with some friends, and worked on the blog. Dad also called three times to discuss my seats on my IAD to LON flight. I am flying internationally in coach for the first time and dad is very concerned that I get the best coach seat possible. It remains to be seen if we have succeeded.
It is now 5:40 am and I am in the Red Carpet Club. For international travel I am allowed to use the Club because of my Premier Executive status. Needless to say I am missing dad a little less right now ;~) Just kidding daddy. I have successfully stayed awake all night and need to leave for my flight to IAD shortly (Washington Dulles for the non airport code inclined). I will write again when I get to DC.
Katy
Breaking News… our oxygen something or other is broken. Our flight has been delayed a half hour. I had a two hour connection, so hopefully this won’t mess me up… I’ll keep you posted.
Day Two: 5/11/09
Surgery Round #2
The reason for this trip started with Granny needing help during her cataract surgery. Pop still drives on occasion, but to be honest that proposition scares me greatly. I am certainly happy that I was here to drive on the surgery/post op days and to generally be a pair of young hands to assist when/where needed. That being said… old people in surgery centers are hilarious.
The majority of people having their cataracts removed at the Wills Eye Surgery Center were being attended to by their spouse. The dynamics within these couples were enough to keep me entertained for the majority of the two plus hours that Pop and I were waiting for Granny. Watching the staff interact with the patients was also quite funny. Here are my top three surgery center moments:
1. A couple, probably in their early 70’s, was sitting in the chairs closest to Pop and me. She was having her cataract removed and her husband was adamant that she needed to fill her paperwork out prior to the surgery. They were bickering about this for quite a while. At one point it seemed like what was holding up her compliance was the lack of a pen. I had a pen in my purse and told her I would be happy to loan it to her. This is when she snapped at me, “The pen isn’t the problem. I have a pen. The problem is he wants me to fill out the postoperative surgery survey before the surgery.” At this point I looked at him, laughed and went on my way to get my computer out of the car.
2. Even though we were at an eye surgery center, the majority of the people in the place seemed to be deaf. Listening to the check in people yell for patients and AT patients was quite entertaining. I was a good 50 feet from the check in counter and I could hear 95% of all conversations taking place. This is also true for Granny (sorry Granny but you know it is true). Having a conversation in the waiting area is nearly impossible because EVERYONE has to yell for the person they are with to hear them. Speaking of yelling couples…
3. My favorite couple was the Rachel Ray couple. From the second they sat down they were bickering. She didn’t want to sit where he sat. She didn’t like the magazine he was reading. He didn’t like the newspaper she was reading, etc, etc… They probably sat down around 9:50 am. At 10:00 am Rachel Ray came on the TV in the waiting room. The woman didn’t seem to notice this until about 10:15, at which point she kept asking her husband… “Is that that Rachel Ray?” And he would reply, “Who?”. I stopped counting the number of times this exchange occurred at seven. My favorite commentary sequence was this: The woman says, “She has gotten heavier.” The man says, “What?”… “She has gotten heavier”… “Who?” … “This Rachel Ray.” It was like listening to a broken record… but at least the song was kind of entertaining.
Until tomorrow,
Katy
