We ride the train to Antwerp and change for Amsterdam - a pleasant and relaxing journey. I realize what a joy traveling by train can be compared to flying. Except for very long trips with tight schedules, I believe train travel is the way to go in Europe.
Our first experience with the tourist inundated Amsterdam Centraal Train Station happens when I try to make a reservation for some of our upcoming legs. The wait is at least two and one-half hours. We decide to try later. We grab a taxi, driven as are most taxis in Amsterdam, by a Middle Easterner, in this case a Yemeni. He is not carrying a knife as most of his countrymen in Yemen do but he is definitely not friendly nor is he much help as to things to do in Amsterdam.
The clerks at our hotel, Tulip Inn Amsterdam Centre, are very helpful and efficiently check us in. We get to our room on the fifth floor to find it is even smaller than our Bruges accommodations and at about twice the price. The "Internet Disconnect" also kicks in and we find that, although they have free internet access in the lobby, if you want to connect from your room, it costs� and costs�and costs. I had read that rooms in Amsterdam were more expensive than almost anywhere else in Europe but I am shocked at price/size ratio. We have a delightful view of the canal across the street. That is if we stand on our tiptoes to look out the window which is set in the roof: so much for web site truthfulness.
I head for the lobby bar and its free internet access while, after much trouble, Pam hooks up to her company's server. I meet a Canadian charter plane pilot over a beer. After a 10 minute conversation, I understand why he most likely didn't fit in with the big airlines. He has the smartest mouth I've heard in a long time and that includes a lot of smart mouths. We discuss the Cathay Pacific pilot unrest and it turns out he has some acquaintances that were let go in the brouhaha. He thinks they were crazy to do it given how much money they were making. I agree with him while suspecting he would have been in the forefront of such a situation if given the chance.
Pam joins me and we decide to have dinner at a nearby Swiss restaurant, imaginatively named the Restaurant Suisse. The food is very good, the staff is friendly and we enjoy ourselves. Back at the hotel, I watch a CNN special on John Kerry, who I don't know very much about. Pam is still struggling with her computer connection when I drop off to sleep.
We also explore the town itself and I am really impressed with the care and detail that was brought to rebuilding Ypres after 1918. We visit a recently uncovered trench just outside Ypres. The trench and a number of corpses were discovered by an amateur group of archeologists who call themselves "The Diggers." They have done an excellent job of re-building the trench so we can experience a little of what it was like for the Allied soldiers.
Our last stop is The Essex Farm Cemetery where Lt. Col. John McCrae, a Canadian Doctor worked at a medical dressing station during the Second Battle of Ypres in 1915. He is best remembered for his poem, "In Flanders Fields," written during the lulls between batches of arriving casualties. The dugouts he worked in are still preserved. There are paper and plastic poppies everywhere we visit as they have become the symbol of remembrance of those who died so needlessly in the so-called "Great War." It's time to head back to Bruges before I become terminally depressed.
I have an interesting conversation with Sharon on the drive back to Bruges. It looks like she's going to become a partner in Quasimodo. I suspect she has more than earned it.
After a short nap, Pam and I head for dinner at the Breydel de Connick Restaurant on Beder Strasse. This is one of the better known restaurants in Bruges and it deserves every bit of its reputation. I order the steamed mussels in white wine, cream and onions. Magnifique! Pam has the fish soup which is exceptional. We grab a table at one of the sidewalk caf�s on Belfort Square for coffee and a Belgian waffle. We can't leave Belgium without having had a waffle with strawberries and whipped cream. Dessert is terrific. Fully sated, we return to our hotel for a great night's sleep, only slightly disturbed by the rumble of our bellies digesting the great food we have eaten.
Our morning to explore Amsterdam turns out to be an early afternoon outing. First we dawdle over breakfast, which is very good. Then Pam has a one hour conversation with a colleague. We finally get going around 11:30 A.M., forgetting that our original plan was to get started early because it's a rainy Sunday and the museums are sure to be packed. We walk to the Rijksmuseum and note the line is very long. "Tomorrow," we say. We go to the Van Gogh Museum where all four lines are very long. The young man posted to keep order tells us the wait would be at least an hour. We decide to pass and do this museum tomorrow. At the rate we are going we'll be doing all the museums in one day. Frustrated we head for Vondel Park even though it's raining, figuring the park won't be so crowded because of the weather.
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I may never get used to the size of European hotel rooms. Our hotel is rated at three stars but the room is barely large enough for both of us to be in it unless one of us is in bed. It's almost as bad as our first hotel in Japan. We stayed in the Ueno prefecture at a so-called "Business Man's Hotel" because it was very reasonable and carried three stars. Hah!!!! The bed was situated so that the only way on or off it was via the foot of the bed. The bathroom was organized so that the only way to sit on the toilet was to situate your knees under the sink and leave the door open. We learned our lesson in Japan. It takes us a while to learn our lesson in Europe.