in amsterdam

Yesterday, Miguel and I went to Amsterdam for the day to see the Rijksmuseum and Anne Frank's house. It was the first time, we realized, that we'd be sightseeing alone. No family, no friends. And while I missed a bit of the camraderie that comes in a larger group, it was wonderful to finally spend a day in Europe free from any added stress (not including the loss and then miraclous rediscovery of the Anne Frank tickets). We spent the whole day walking around Amsterdam. Over canals, beside canals, between canals. Did I mention that there are canals? I think I took more pictures of those than anything else.

Before we got to the Rijksmuseum, we stopped for possibly the greatest bagel ever made at Village Bagel. The Dutch know cream cheese. I may need to rethink my anti-Dutch policies.

After carbing up, we hit the museum to see the Rembrandts and the Vermeers. Although the building looks massive from the outside, the actual gallery space seemed quite small in comparison to the Uffizi and the Prado. Miguel thinks they must be renovating and that when its finished, the museum will be much larger. Miguel saw his favourite Vermeer, the one with the maid pouring out a jug of milk. I saw Rembrandt's cloth merchants and the Night Watch. There is something brilliant about the way Vermeer and Rembrandt use like that is so unlike painters in Southern Europe. I think it has to do with the damp mists and grey hazes that are so common to places like Amsterdam and Nanaimo. There are diffusion of light so that it scatters everywhere and nowhere. Then, every once a while, a steady stream of sunlight highlights just a small part of a building or a street. In a place like this that is so grey most of the year, light is at a premium. No wonder it figures so prominently in Rembrandt's and Vermeer's work.

After the museum, we walked what felt like the length and breadth of the Netherlands and finally got to Anne Frank's House. It's around the corner from the fabulously old church and I found myself wondering if Anne every mentioned the bells in her diary. The house itself is bare. Otto Frank wanted the Annex to remain unfurnished. He didn't want it to look lived in, I suppose. Putting in the furnishings would make it look like a safe home, which it wasn't. Interesting aesthetic choice anyway. Most powerful for me was the ladder up to the attic. You can't actually climb the ladder, but then have a mirror propped up so you can see outside as Anne would have. At the very end of the self-guided tour is Anne Frank's diary. The real book, plaid cover and all. The whole experience left me pretty much speechless.

After Anne Frank's house, we walked back to the station and made it back to Utrecht where we met Yvon (at whose house we're crashing) and went for dinner at a new fusion-type restaurant she'd been wanting to try. Nothing really too exciting there, just thought you'd want to know that I'm eating fine.

Today we're off to Delft to see Jolien, then onto Eindhoven to see Sonia and Richard (more of Miguel's friends that are graciously allowing us to crash). Tomorrow, we on an early flight to Madrid where we'll be force fed manchego and jamon serrano for the next few weeks.

Also, because of the jet lag, I've been getting up at 5:30am. How unimpressed am I.