Day 2

Day two found us back in Downtown Amsterdam doing the big touristy things. We're doing this on public transportation so we start with the hotel shuttle to the airport where we can catch a train to Amsterdam Central Station. We had done this the day before so we felt we had the public tanspo thing down pretty good.

Our first stop was lunch at a cafe across from the train station. We'd had a marvelous fried eggs sandwich at the hotel on day one while we were waiting for our room to be readied since our plane dumped us off long before official check in time. We were told the sandwich is a staple on cafe menus citywide and it's a damn good sandwich. It's three eggs fried with various add-ons. Today the one I had was eggs ham and cheese. I had it with a Diet Coke, but that's not what they call it here:

After we were fed our first stop was the Anne Frank house. It's a very moving place with snippets of her words throughout and recorded memories of some of the people involved in the story. Yes, it brought a tear to my eyes. It is a very somber place documenting a horrific time in the history of mankind.

After that we found the neatest shop that had the coolest souvenirs. I picked out something individual and appropriate for each of my nearest and dearest co-workers and my best friend.

In walking the streets and canals that lead to our next stop we come upon a papa & mama duck in the process of building a new home. Papa madly cruises the canal checking every bit of flotsam and jetsam for suitable nest material. He brings them back to mama duck for her approval or rejection. He did this several times over while we watched. The candy wrapper in the foreground was rejected on one trip but this time he's brought a twig that will meet with her approval and be tucked firmly into the nest she's constructing.

The grin below belongs to a woman who just spent an entire 30 minutes inspecting Van Gogh's The Starry Night. She's a very happy camper and also managed to find two more of his night timed paintings to drool over. The entire museum is a joy to anyone who loves the artist and with the special Colors of the Night exhibit the Amsterdam leg of the vacation found its high point.

On the way to our next destination, the flower market, the following items were caught in passing. An artist who uses wood to replicate objects not normally made of wood:

And a bicycle that doesn't get take out much after dark. At least not through unfamiliar streets:

At the flower market, they had more than just flowers for sale and I found myself wondering if these would pass customs:

After the long walk to Anne Frank and Van Gogh, the farthest stops from the train station, we are getting hungry again and stop at an Italian restaurant where the missus had eaten when she was here before. I remember her raving about the best spaghetti and meatballs she'd ever had and was anxious to see if you really could find good Italian in Amsterdam. You can, it was, and the Tiramisu for desert was divine:

Our last stop for the night was the Red Light District, where you are not allowed to take pictures of the girls so here is a picture just before we turned down one of the little alleyways where the ladies of the night parade their wares.

We've now been on our feet for 12 hours of walking and are ready to go to bed. We rush through the train station to catch the train back to the airport to catch the last shuttle bus for the night back to our hotel. We get up to the track and the train that we want is sitting there, but all the doors are closed. We approach a train station employee and inquire if this is the train for Schipol and can we still board? He replies in the affirmative. "So how do we get on with the doors closed?", we counter. He smirks and walks over to a little button to the left of the doors and presses it. Duh. What did I say about us having this public transpo thing down? I am tired, my feet hurt and I carelessly leave my bag of carefully selected souvenirs on the train. I guess that's going to be the low point of the trip. I curse my stupidity and try not to let it ruin the day...and succeed. We are laughing by the time the hotel bus finally pulls up. Truth be told the low point could have been worse. I could have lost my purse or passport, been run over by one of the madly careening cars or bicycles, or I could have sat on this fence: