anne frank house

Arrival in Amsterdam

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Tulip time in Europe! Our first big trip beyond Ireland and Great Britain // March 31 – April 15, 1997

Amsterdam-Brugges-Paris Trip Map
Tulip Time in Holland.  The trip route: Amsterdam-Brugges-Paris

Arrival in Amsterdam, The Netherlands

We arrived into Amsterdam 6:30 am on April Fool’s Day. Two dogs made the KLM journey from Chicago too. I thought about them all night down in cargo and was happy to see them at baggage claim on the other side…tired and tentative, but good. There is no quarantine of incoming pets–just registration/vaccination papers to show.

It took some frustrating minutes to figure out how to get to Centraal Station from the airport–but we asked around and pieced it together: Metro Train (f6,25 each), and then a Strippenkaart got us on the #16 tram for 5 stops to our hotel. The room wasn’t ready, so we left our bags

behind and went for a walk on a beautiful sunny day. We walked through the flower market as they were setting up… gorgeous flowers and oh the fragrant smells!

The Anne Frank House

We decided to head over to the Anne Frank house early to avoid lines later in the day/week. Our jet-lag heightened the moment–we walked up the stairs, saw the bookcase door ajar, took a step up, ducked and walked into the Secret Annex. The rooms were very small. Hard to imagine 8 people spent 2 cramped years here…little fresh air, no sunshine (the windows were covered with screens to prevent peeking eyes from seeing them hiding there). There is no furniture there now. It was taken by the Nazi’s and Otto Frank chose to leave it empty when the museum was established. Anne’s room was very narrow. A statue stands where her head lay at night. As we were leaving the Annex, I looked down the long, narrow, steep stairwell that ended at the forbidden front door. It was one of the most intimidating pictures I’ll ever have in my mind. My vague feeling of fear cannot compare to the mortal fear they lived with. Anne’s actual diaries are in a glass case next door. The ragged little red/orange/pink/white plaid “Kitty” with it’s feathered pages closed to the public’s eyes was there beside her rewrites, which were open to us. I can’t read German, but I studied the pen marks and lines. Neat, confident strokes. I read the book when I was a kid. To be standing in front of the source, in the building that held her, was humbling. When we left the building, I stopped to stare at the cobblestones, the trees, the sky, the canal in front…what did they feel like when they were discovered and taken out onto that same narrow street in August 1944 after 2 years in doors?

Jet-lag in Amsterdam

We walked silent past the building, the church who’s bells told them the time, past street vendors setting up–and back to our neighborhood. We ate at an outside cafe in the sun–people watching. We ate pancakes with butter and powdered sugar, sipped our cafe au laits and listened to a pitifully bad street musician…tired from the overnight flight, dazed by the Anne Frank house and warmed by the sun. Dogs everywhere…hanging at the restaurant with their people, riding the trams, in the markets. 🙂

Around 11, we checked in to the hotel (The Seven Bridges Hotel). Room #10 with an orange yellow door…all the way at the top. Narrow, spiraling stairs…in a series of 13-5-15-13 steps as the staircase wound it’s way up. The room is small–double bed, marble top table, marble top sink counter and 2 oriental rugs. 3 mirrors reflected the light from one window facing East and one skylight over the bed. We would sleep for 4 hours.

the netherlands flag
The Netherlands flag