So a few days turned into a little more then a week, which shouldn't surprise me because I'm horrible about procrastinating when it comes to my writing, but I am finally updating my blog with my trip to Amsterdam!
If any of you were waiting on the edge of your seats for this blog post (hello Madre!), I apologize for the delay.
P.S. Mom, thanks for always being my biggest fan and reading everything I put in front of you<3
P.S. Mom, thanks for always being my biggest fan and reading everything I put in front of you<3
Our trip to Amsterdam began in the Dublin airport where, for the first time in my life, I ate a bagel with cream cheese and salmon on it. And it was delicious. I also briefly considered spending an obscene amount of money on four different books, mostly because I've been having withdrawals not having my own personal library of at my fingertips, but then I remembered that I am an Au Pair with quite a limited income, and that somewhere in Munich there is supposed to be a second-hand, English book store. In the end all but one of the books remained on the shelves, which took an almost embarrassing amount of willpower and quite a bit of internal debate.
Plus I'm 99.9% sure the flight attendants wouldn't have allowed this to fly as my carry-on, so it's a good thing my common sense won out in the end.
When we arrived in Amsterdam a taxi took us to the apartment we were staying in, which was on one of the many canals coursing through the city, and very picturesque. The Anne Frank house was right across the street, as well as the Westerkerk Cathedral, which Anne frequently mentions in her diary. It was surreal to hear the same bells chiming that she found so much comfort in, but I must say that, although I love me some church bells, even I apparently have a limit of endurance when it comes to how often they chime. These bells went off every fifteen minutes, NO MATTER WHAT TIME OF DAY OR NIGHT, and once an hour they would play a lengthy song. The first few times I loved it. Really up until about two o'clock in the morning I loved it. But then, after it woke me up roughly five different times, I started to feel a little bit differently about the Westerkerk bells. Theresa swears that the Jetsons theme song was played every so often, but I can't personally vouch for this. Although I've heard rumors that Stairway to Heaven has been played.
Beautiful, but should only be enjoyed during the light of day. Although watching him play the bells is pretty spectacular.
The view from the front steps of our apartment.
That first night we had Italian food for dinner; five Euros for pretty much anything on the entire menu. You would think at those prices the food would be a little sketchy, but it was actually really good. Plus there were musicians strolling up and down the street where the restaurant was located, which made the food taste even better. We also, much to our disgust, saw a public, open toilet in use for the first time. Men would literally just stroll into this little cubicle, pull their pants down, and go to town. Their lower body is covered, but their head isn't, and at one point I accidentally make eye contact with someone. Most awkward experience of my trip, hands down.
Friday we walked around the canals of the city, and even took a boat tour. I attempted to listen to the information in German, but only got about three minutes in before I switched back over to English. But it's the thought that counts, which is what I'm going to tell the people at the Visa office if they give me any trouble. I am trying I promise! I've even had quite a few legitimate conversations in German, because English was simply not an option. I'm starting to be able to read advertisements and understand announcements made on the trains, so there's hope for me yet!
Friday afternoon we went to see the Anne Frank house, which was very haunting and left a strong impression on me. Otto Frank, Anne's father, wanted the rooms to be devoid of any furniture when they opened the museum to symbolize the void left behind by the millions of people who were deported and never returned. There is a small model set up in one of the rooms: it looks like a little doll house, and it shows exactly where all of the furniture was. The most poignant thing is the original markings on the walls tracking the growth in pencil of Anne and her sister over their two year stay in the annex, and seeing all the pictures pasted on the wall in Anne's room: the original photos she clipped from magazines and newspapers. There were a few comic strips and pictures of movie stars and entertainers. There was a small photo of the young Princess Elizabeth, and postcards of famous pieces of art and moments in history. It was difficult to imagine how they could have borne living in such cramped quarters for two years. They couldn't make a sound during the day, because the men working down in the warehouse below the annex were not aware of their existence. Almost every step I took was accompanied by a sharp creak of the floorboards; they would have barely been able to move around at all. The walls were dark and were lit up only by the dimmest of lights; all of the windows were covered with heavy curtains so that no light could escape through them.
You walk all throughout the rooms of the house, and up through the secret staircase with the bookcase hiding the entrance to the annex. The attic is one of the few places visitors aren't allowed access to, but there is a mirror set up so that you can see the window Anne mentions quite frequently in her diary.
"The two of us looked out at the blue sky, the bare chestnut
tree glistening with dew, the seagulls and other birds
glinting with silver as they swooped through the air."
Anne Frank, 23 February 1944
And this is the only picture I have of the Red-Light District, because I was not in the mood to get my camera confiscated. But I saw all the red lights. They exist!!
So that, basically, is my trip to Amsterdam in a nutshell. It was a beautiful city, at least the outer, more touristy part of it. And the last thing I'm going to say about it, is that if you're a pedestrian, check both ways about FIVE HUNDRED times before you cross the streets. There are thousands of people cruising by on bicycles and motorbikes, and they will literally plow through you if you get in their way. Half the time there isn't even an actual sidewalk for pedestrians, you just have to dive into a tree or a bush if you see one coming. At the very least they ring their little bells at you from about ONE MILE away so you have ample time to find a decent bush. So considerate. The cars are pretty crappy too. Theresa and I were half standing in the middle of a road because there were so many bikers flying past that we couldn't make it up onto the sidewalk, when this car comes flying around the corner and then speeds up when he sees us in the street. It was like he was trying to prove a point: pedestrians don't belong on the roadways! As if my mother hadn't already taught me that invaluable lesson when I was five years old. And this is an exaggeration by only the slightest, it really is that bad.
"My experience in Amsterdam is that cyclists ride where the hell they like and aim in a state of rage at all pedestrians while ringing their bell loudly, the concept of avoiding people being foreign to them." -Terry Prachett (See it's not just me.)
I'm paraphrasing my last two weeks in Munich because I waited too long to blog about them, and because I don't want to sit here writing a novel. Let's just say it was filled with a lot of fun people: really great clubs and karaoke bars. A little bit of shopping, a little bit of sight-seeing. I went swimming two different times at a lake with a gorgeous view of the Alps, and to an Aquatics center with the boys and my host parents because it's been so incredibly hot here. I've had movie nights and sleepovers with the other Au Pairs, and I went to eat at the Hard Rock Cafe so that I could get my ranch and macaroni and cheese fix. They're also one of the only restaurants that will give you re-fills and ice in your beverage. And the only place where I can get a glass of still water for free. So there's that. I went to an English-speaking cinema and to a really good concert at the Olympic park, and spent the whole week with one of the cutest four-year old boys I've ever met. Every day I feel closer and closer to each of the boys: they're all so special and pretty spectacular.
I feel like, as of yet, I haven't given Munich nearly enough attention, especially because I think it's such an incredible city, but I promise to rectify this problem within the next few weeks. I'll have more time now that the boys are back to a more normal schedule, and now that I've finished writing about my trip to Ireland and Amsterdam it will be much easier to focus on my life here. Next week: it's time to buy a dirndl and get ready for Oktoberfest! (which actually takes place in September), and post my list of the things I want to see and try in Munich before I leave. Which I first have to finish writing, and which I'm sure will get longer and longer as the year goes on :)
Theresa:
This is why I love you and why it was so hard to say good-bye to you in Amsterdam. Because you eat cheerios like a pigeon. Miss you already.
You walk all throughout the rooms of the house, and up through the secret staircase with the bookcase hiding the entrance to the annex. The attic is one of the few places visitors aren't allowed access to, but there is a mirror set up so that you can see the window Anne mentions quite frequently in her diary.
"The two of us looked out at the blue sky, the bare chestnut
tree glistening with dew, the seagulls and other birds
glinting with silver as they swooped through the air."
Anne Frank, 23 February 1944
Entrance into the secret annex.
They also have many artifacts left over from Anne and her family, including Anne's actual diary, the typewritten index card which categorized her into the records of Bergen-Belsen, and quite a few family photos and video recordings. The Red-Cross letters are on display which confirmed to Otto Frank the deaths of his entire family, as well as interviews with various people who either helped the family whilst they were in hiding, or remembered seeing Anne in the concentration camps. Anne's handwritten short stories and poems are up on the walls: her father publishing her diary was the kindest memorial he could have given to the girl who wanted nothing more to be free, and to be a writer. The fact that she is now such a celebrated authoress, despite her short life, was one of the most inspirational things I took away from the museum.
I tried Indonesian food (or at least I think it was Indonesian food, I can't quite remember) for the first time Friday night, and like the salmon bagel, it too was absolutely delicious. I think my taste buds most slowly be dying off, because I am much less of a picky eater then I was five years ago. I actually think its fun to try new foods now, whereas before you couldn't pay me to eat anything that smelled or looked remotely different or foreign. I guess I'm growing up :)
I also have to stress how in love I am with the street performers I've seen thus far in Europe. And the fact that they have giant chessboards set up that anybody can walk up to and play with.
Awesome street performers:
Giant Chess board:
(I've seen several of these in Munich as well. One of these days I'm going to challenge someone to a game.)
Saturday Theresa and I took a little trip to the Red-Light District. I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting, aside from the obvious, but I can say that it was interesting to see, and that it was quite an experience. We went twice, once during the day, and once at night. In the daylight hours it was more humorous then anything. We went to a condom museum that Theresa had read about on the Internet...
(Window display at condom museum.)
And poked around in a few of the shops. There were a few women sitting in front of the windows but most of them just looked ridiculously bored. Some of them had their phones out and weren't even paying attention to what was going on in the street. There were a few bachelor and bachelorette parties strolling around (the bachelor parties made more sense then the bachelorette parties), and mostly people who you could tell were just curious to see what it looked like. It's true what they say about cameras though: we saw a few people whip them out to try and take pictures, and the women get really angry. They'll open the doors and yell at the offender to delete the picture or they'll call the police. So good luck if you want to try and take any illicit photos.
During the night time it was much different, kind of seedy and gross. Of course this is coming from my perspective, me being a woman (obviously), but it wasn't the prostitutes that creeped me out as much as the guys who literally just stood there and stared at them from the other side of the glass. Some of them would make really lewd comments and others would just sit there with drool pooling at the corners of their mouths. Not very attractive.
So that, basically, is my trip to Amsterdam in a nutshell. It was a beautiful city, at least the outer, more touristy part of it. And the last thing I'm going to say about it, is that if you're a pedestrian, check both ways about FIVE HUNDRED times before you cross the streets. There are thousands of people cruising by on bicycles and motorbikes, and they will literally plow through you if you get in their way. Half the time there isn't even an actual sidewalk for pedestrians, you just have to dive into a tree or a bush if you see one coming. At the very least they ring their little bells at you from about ONE MILE away so you have ample time to find a decent bush. So considerate. The cars are pretty crappy too. Theresa and I were half standing in the middle of a road because there were so many bikers flying past that we couldn't make it up onto the sidewalk, when this car comes flying around the corner and then speeds up when he sees us in the street. It was like he was trying to prove a point: pedestrians don't belong on the roadways! As if my mother hadn't already taught me that invaluable lesson when I was five years old. And this is an exaggeration by only the slightest, it really is that bad.
"My experience in Amsterdam is that cyclists ride where the hell they like and aim in a state of rage at all pedestrians while ringing their bell loudly, the concept of avoiding people being foreign to them." -Terry Prachett (See it's not just me.)
I'm paraphrasing my last two weeks in Munich because I waited too long to blog about them, and because I don't want to sit here writing a novel. Let's just say it was filled with a lot of fun people: really great clubs and karaoke bars. A little bit of shopping, a little bit of sight-seeing. I went swimming two different times at a lake with a gorgeous view of the Alps, and to an Aquatics center with the boys and my host parents because it's been so incredibly hot here. I've had movie nights and sleepovers with the other Au Pairs, and I went to eat at the Hard Rock Cafe so that I could get my ranch and macaroni and cheese fix. They're also one of the only restaurants that will give you re-fills and ice in your beverage. And the only place where I can get a glass of still water for free. So there's that. I went to an English-speaking cinema and to a really good concert at the Olympic park, and spent the whole week with one of the cutest four-year old boys I've ever met. Every day I feel closer and closer to each of the boys: they're all so special and pretty spectacular.
I feel like, as of yet, I haven't given Munich nearly enough attention, especially because I think it's such an incredible city, but I promise to rectify this problem within the next few weeks. I'll have more time now that the boys are back to a more normal schedule, and now that I've finished writing about my trip to Ireland and Amsterdam it will be much easier to focus on my life here. Next week: it's time to buy a dirndl and get ready for Oktoberfest! (which actually takes place in September), and post my list of the things I want to see and try in Munich before I leave. Which I first have to finish writing, and which I'm sure will get longer and longer as the year goes on :)
Theresa:
And to my padre: Happy Birthday!! I wish I could have been there to celebrate with you but I know we'll have many more to come. You're the best dad a girl could ever ask for. And I'm not biased. :)
XO
Sarah
