The last exhibit takes the edge off. It's an interactive presentation about Neo-Nazism and Freedom of Speech. The problem is that it is too abstract and too long. It becomes boring after about ten minutes so I move on to the bookstore and caf�. Pam and I have cappuccinos and I watch the other patrons enjoying themselves. As I de-compress, I wonder if they, especially the young ones, are touched by what they have seen or are just part of a tour, following a guide book or tagging along with their folks and thinking it is just another museum. I hope not but I think so.
We walk along the canals to our hotel. On the way, Pam makes the mistake of walking in a bike path. The bike riders yell at her and one actually tries to intimidate her by steering his bike towards her and veering off at the last instant. I'm sure I would learn some usable Dutch curses if I knew what they were saying.
We dine at the Divinder Restaurant, a small continental place on Overtoom Straat - excellent food, attentive service and an Amsterdam-like price but worth it. We have Irish coffees across the street at an Irish Pub. Unfortunately, even though we are in the dairy capital of Europe, the coffee comes with canned whipped cream.
Back at the hotel Pam hits the internet. I get my news fix off CNN. I fall asleep to the clicking of keyboard keys and the recounting of today's tragedies in Iraq and elsewhere.
We walk around the park enjoying the uncrowded atmosphere. The only sour note is offered by a street person who keeps following us and trying to give us information we don't want, like the free concert schedule for the rest of the summer. In spite of the rain, there are people playing football, walking their babies and dogs, which are sometimes hard to separate, jogging or bicycling. One distressed gentleman is trying to get to his dog which is on the opposite side of a pond from him. Neither of the parties, canine or human, thinks to use the nearby bridge. I try to point this out but am ignored by both of them.
Moving right along, we leave the park and walk through the Leidseplein, a touristy restaurant and small hotel area to Kalverstraat which is even kitschier. Along the way we visit the floating Flower Market, a very crowded venue. Lots of tulip bulbs for sale, as you might imagine.
Kalver Straat is a pedestrian only zone. You don't even have to dodge bicycles in this area. The street contains, record stores, souvenir shops, franchise restaurants and clothes shops selling every kind of avant garde outfit you can imagine. Pam and I stop at a soup and baguette place, which we agree isn't too bad perhaps because we are faint with hunger.
We walk to Dam Square which houses the National Monument and is surrounded by many architectural wonders including the Royal Palace/Town Hall. I take some pictures which you can access on my Photo site in the Amsterdam Album.
The square is full of young people smoking and toking, walking and talking, sleeping and eating and just hanging out. We wander around soaking it all in. I start to think about visiting one of Amsterdam's famous "Coffee Shops" where marijuana and hashish are sold over the counter. Pam had earlier expressed some concern about my doing that and the more I thought about it, the less appealing the idea was. We have so much to see and I'm afraid I'll run out of energy if I get stoned. We consider visiting Amsterdam's Red Light District, too, but figure that, during the day, it would just be boring and ugly.
In spite of Rick Steves' lukewarm recommendation, we decide to visit the Amsterdam Historical Museum. We are glad we do. I learn a lot, not only about Amsterdam, but also about the history of Holland and it's relation to the rest of Europe. The museum is well designed. I'm especially impressed with the 17th Century and WW II sections.
I am 67 years old today. I don't feel like I thought I would feel when I imagined being in my late sixties, 40 years ago. I am reasonably healthy, have few financial worries, am active, am mentally as sharp as ever, etc. So why is it, I'm slightly depressed by the thought of being 67? I believe it's knowing that I have a limited number of years left to do all the things I could have done when I was younger but didn't because I had plenty of time. Got that?
We have planned a full day. Yesterday we discovered that the desk people at the Tulip, for a small service charge, can sell us tickets to the major museums so we don't have to stand in long lines. The breakfasts continue to be excellent with lots of variety and fresh fruit. We're still bummed out about the size of the room but at the rate we are eating breakfast, it will seem even smaller.
Off to the Rijksmuseum we go. As you may have already guessed there are no lines. They must have heard we bought tickets in advance and shortened the lines, accordingly. The museum itself is considerably more interesting than I thought I would be. It is under renovation so I had curbed my expectations. There are many Rembrandts, of course, including Night Watch but also Vermeers, Hals', Steens and numerous others. We spend almost twice as long as we planned.
Our next stop is the Van Gogh Museum. Is it possible to get too much of Van Gogh? We come close, here. Fortunately we also visit the "Edouard Manet and the Sea" traveling exhibit which includes other impressionists like Pissaro, Monet and Renoir and this tempers the "Van Goghness" considerably. The whole time we are in the museum, I keep hearing Don McLean's "Vincent" (Starry, Starry Night) in my head. I can't stop it. The song has taken over my mind. I get some weird looks and I realize I'm also humming it. "I gotta get outta here."
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I find it very difficult to manage my emotions while exploring the house. I keep asking myself, "How could such horrible things happen? Why are they still happening? Why do I feel so powerless to do anything about it?" I've seen the movie and I've read excerpts from the diary but this tour of the house is far more moving.