I Amsterdam

We left Paris and arrived in Amsterdam by train at Central Station.   We followed our written instructions toward gate 16, except the gates only went up to 15.  We would later find that the Dutch have a rather lackadaisical attitude when giving directions.  They meant 15 which was close enough by their standards.  The instructions had been provided by our hotel and when I mentioned the fact that the gates only went to 16, I got a "what's your point" look from the concierge.  I really think it is a Dutch plot to keep tourists from learning too much.  Their language uses words that are really sentences made of words they just jam together.  Tell me they couldn't have broken up the Dutch word for someone with multiple personality disorders into something smaller than
 meervoudigepersoonlijkheidsstoornissen?  Hell, it would take at least two personalities just to pronounce that word.  The Dutch Scrabble board must be gigantic.

Dutch Scrabble, A Vonderful Goot Game

Our next challenge was getting out of Central Station.  We found our way blocked by gates that required a ticket.  After some confusion, it was determined that these mechanical impediments to our continued travels wanted our train ticket barcodes.  These would be the same tickets we hopefully had squirreled away in one of the thirty pockets or compartments that are included in any well-designed article of travel attire.  Since these were tickets purchased to board a train in Paris for transportation to Amsterdam, it was assumed they would no longer be needed after we arrived in Amsterdam.  I was beginning to feel like poor old Charlie on the MTA from the 1962 Kingston Trio song.

Lyrics from MTA by the Kingston Trio

We eventually found our tickets and managed our escape.  We arrived at our appointed shuttle pick up point only to see the van leaving.  The ticket delay at the exit gate was enough to make that happen.  The Dutch may be loose with directions but they are very punctual.  We were, after all, 2 minutes late from our scheduled pick up time.  We could see our hotel from our vantage point in Central Station but there were cars on roads, trains on tracks, trams on tracks, bikes on paths, and a waterway complete with water and all sorts of watercraft, between us and our new home at the port.  We decided to wait for the next shuttle.

Movenpick Hotel

In the litany of impediments between Central Station and our hotel, the most hazardous would be the bike paths of Amsterdam and their bikes and drivers.  You see, in Amsterdam, before you can get run over by a car or hit by a train, you must first suffer the pain and embarrassment of being run down by someone on a bicycle.  There are 821,752 people in Amsterdam and there are 2,465,256 bicycles.  There used to be more people here but they have all been wiped out in large bike pile ups.

Rush Hour in Amsterdam

The main rule in Amsterdam is that "bikes rule."  When I was talking to our captain on a canal trip the next day, I asked him about the depth of the canals.  He said that the canals are about 3 meters deep.  This includes one meter of mud, one meter of bicycles, and one meter of water.

Bike Path in Amsterdam

In Amsterdam, everybody rides...

And I mean, Everybody.

We checked into the Movenpick and made it up to our room.  We opted for the Executive Package as it included breakfast and Happy Hour.  They had me at Happy Hour.  We unpacked and made it down at 5 p.m. for wine and snacks.  We were scheduled to stay in the Movenpick for 5 days, 3 of those days were on our own and the last 2 were part of our suite package from the cruise line, Holland America.  Over the next several days we would meet guests scheduled for six different cruise ships that would leave from the port visible from our room.

Holland America's Konningsdam seen from our hotel room

Also seen in the waterway was a strange craft that appeared to be a Dutch submarine.  I couldn't be sure but, given their sense of ingenuity, anything is possible.

Dutch Submarine?

Our first touring day was spent on the canals taking pictures.  We stopped by Jack's Universal Info Center, a local bar.  The place was called Cafe 't Smalle.  We were looking for a small boat for a canal tour and what better bar than one with small actually in the name.  The barmaid recommended a neighbor who had a website that we were able to research.  With the luck of the Irish, the captain pulled in next to the bar and tied up.  He was booked through 5 p.m. but had a second boat that could be available in an hour.

Inside Cafe 't Smalle

Cafe 't Smalle's Bar Amsterdam

Brian at the helm during our private canal tour of Amsterdam
Note the wine, cheese, and berries for the cruise

We booked with Brian and thoroughly enjoyed his commentary with his atypical local knowledge.  Brian was a canal dweller and lived aboard a houseboat.  Around one turn he showed us a sinking houseboat that was listing at a 30-degree angle. He told us that the houseboat took on water when, during a recent gay pride celebration, too many revelers managed to tip the boat.  This gives "tipsy" a new meaning.

A Casualty of Recent Gay Pride Celebration

We also stopped to give aid to two lost stoners in a peddle boat.  With eyes glazed from too much good weed, they easily got turned around in the maze of canals.  They looked like a clean cut version of Cheech and Chong.  They had rented the peddle boat and managed to navigate under a few bridges until they were totally lost.  Our captain told them the best route back.  We saw them later happily spinning circles with a group of other peddle boats.

Lost stoners, white boat.

Our second tour was out to the windmills of Zaanse Schans.  We took a bus tour that provided an inside look of the working windmills and a boat ride out to the small town of Marken, an island/peninsula, to watch cheese being made.  Historically, the mills were used for sawing wood which ensured a flourishing shipbuilding industry in the Zaanstreek region in Old Holland.  This is where the world’s first bona fide industrial zone emerged in the 17th century. Around 1650, some 75 ships were built here each year. Even Tsar Peter the Great came over from Russia to learn how to build a ship in Zaandam.

Logs kept wet before being drawn into a windmill for sawing.

Inside Windmill using wind power for lumber production.
In this view 7 blades are sawing a log to make board lumber.

Three Molens (windmills) and a Goat

Traditionally windmills were used for pumping, grinding, and sawing.  They made paint, flour, lumber, and pumped water out of the lowlands to the rivers to reclaim land for farming.  Their most important function these days is to pump money from the wallets of thousands of tourists.

The second part of our tour was out to watch cheese being made.  Basically, we saw a presentation on the many processes and we ate a lot of free cheese.  All of the cheese was good.  We ate Edam, Gouda, Beemster, Leyden, Maaslander, and anything that looked yellow that could have been cheese.  I think I even ate a rubber eraser someone had left on a shelf.  It didn't taste that good but I now have a bit of a bounce in my step.

Wooden Cheese Press

We also saw a presentation of how the famous Dutch wooden shoes are made.  They say they are comfortable and practical but I'll take their word for it since that word probably has 38 letters in it and would be unpronounceable.  I prefer my sneakers a bit more, "sneakery."

Wooden Shoes

Dutch Version of Air Jordans

We ate lunch in town and selected from the two quick options.  You could have fish and chips or you could have chips and fish.  I ate the fish and chips although I heard that the other option was just as good.  Fry something and put it next to a good cold beer and I'm a happy traveler.  Put a cold beer next to another cold beer and I'm even happier.

Marken Dock

We had a total of 5 days in Amsterdam which was barely enough time to see the highlights.  The canals, windmills, and little wooden shoes are the things I remember about Amsterdam and the Dutch culture from my history books.  My high school didn't get into the red-light district and, back then, marijuana was only part of a line in a Mexican folk song we learned in Spanish class.  The song was about a stoner cockroach and the Spanish teacher just grinned when she explained that the evil weed was only used by Mexican insects and jazz musicians.  By the look on her face I think some Spanish teachers may have also played jazz.  Pressed for time we passed on these latter two tourism highlights as well as the Anne Frank Museum.  We saw this last highlight from the street but the long lines and need for advance tickets meant we would have to pass on this one.

We had one minor incident when we were out on an excursion to buy wine for our cruise.  We stopped by Central Station in search of a grocery store we had been told about when we were detoured around one section of the shopping mall.  They were just putting up yellow crime tape and a couple of ambulances were pulling away.  It seems that a terrorist had just stabbed two American tourists and he had been shot by Amsterdam police.  I was now grateful for the time I had wasted over breakfast having a second helping of stroopwafel.

Amsterdam near Central Station

Typical Street

We did get an after-hours organized tour of the Rijks Museum as part of a special package put to us as a benefit of booking a suite on the Holland of America's Koningsdam.  The museum was fascinating and the tour finished off with a multi-course meal at the Michelin rated Rijks Restaurant in the museum.

I spotted among the Dutch Masters, a familiar looking painting.  I remembered it from my dad's old cigar boxes.  It was Rembrandt's 1662 painting of the Syndics of the Drapers' Guild that adorned the Dutch Masters cigar advertising.  These were cigars popular in the 1950's and 1960's and they were the proud sponsor of comedian Ernie Kovacs' television shows of the period.

Cigar Box with Rembrandt logo

Rembrandt Painting of Syndics of the Drapers' Guild
Hanging in Rijksmuseum

Ernie Kovacs

Also among the many famous paintings I remembered from art appreciation courses, was The Milkmaid by Johannes Vermeer, circa 1658.  There is supposed to be all sorts of sexual symbolism in the painting but I guess you would have to be a repressed 17th century Calvinist to get the meaning.  The foot warmer in the lower right corner is one of those symbols.  As centerfolds and pin-ups go, I don't get it.  I like the painting and the use of vivid colors and the play of light, but it's just another $40 million painting.

The Milkmaid, Johannes Vermeer

 Last but not least, The Night Watch, or more properly titled, "Militia Company of District II under the Command of Capt. Frans Bannick Cocq," by Rembrandt van Rijn, 1642.

Night Watch, Rembrandt van Rijn, 1642

All of these paintings and many more were shown and described in detail by our personal guide to our group of about eight people.  We were very impressed by the volume and quality of the exhibits of the Rijksmuseum.  The building is almost identical to Amsterdam's Central Station.

Rijks Museum at night

We finished off our evening at the museum with a great multi-course meal with a great group of people.  The food was fabulous and each stage was accompanied by an appropriate wine pairing.  

Dinner at Rijks Restaurant in Museum

We are now fully immersed in the culture of Amsterdam and ready to board our ship to cruise the Baltic.

Made it to Paris

Well, the flight across the pond on Air France was delightful, unless you are picky.  The usual Air France congeniality was there, along with good food and wine.  We had exit row seats 26 B & C with extra legroom on our Boeing 777-300ER (77W) Three Class.  These were extra comfort seats for which we paid a slight premium.  What we forgot to specify were two unbroken seats.  Sue's seat wouldn't recline and mine not only reclined, but I could rest my head in the lap of the lady in row 27.  Needless to say, the lady in that row wasn't thrilled with the idea.  My seat back was also seriously damaged on the right side and I would tend to twist toward the aisle.  If I fell asleep my head would eventually go back and to the right.  If this starts to sound like the commentary on the McGruder film, you are not far off.  My head out in the 17" aisle in a darkened cabin was almost as fatal.

Our Seats, 26 B and C

These exit row seats had extra legroom and were close to the bathroom which is an important fact on a 9-hour flight with a septuagenarian bladder.  You will also notice in the diagram above that there are little baby carriages over the bulkhead seats E, F, G, and H.  This area is reserved for families with unruly children.  The little darlings are about to be subjected to nine hours of tight confinement, loud and strange noises, changes in air pressure, and separation anxiety since they were forced to leave behind 2,000 of their favorite toys.  Somehow this isn't a recipe for a quiet happy child.  I guess they have to put the little monsters somewhere but wouldn't it be nicer for them if they were just drugged and placed in a pet carrier.  Someone needs to look into this as a potential solution.  I guess it's just another of life's little complications.

I found that occupying the aisle with my head was a continuing problem as I would doze off and be jarred awake by anyone wider than Olive Oyle of Popeye fame who wanted to pass row 26.  With the bathrooms between row 26 and business class, this was a regular occurrence.  To make matters worse, they turn off the lights on these red-eye flights after dinner service and people trying to navigate the narrow aisles in the dark would regularly walk into the "extra legroom" area I thought I paid for.

I finally got the purser's attention and he used his flashlight and some brute strength to somewhat alleviate Sue's recline problem.  My seat, however, was deemed, in technical airline jargon as BBARRPLOT.  This translates to, Busted Beyond All Reasonable Repair Please Leave On Tarmac.  At least everyone around my section was now awake and almost as miserable as I was.  We now would have almost 4 weeks to recover before we would be in these same seats for the return flight.

Row 26 Seating, Please Leave on Tarmac

We landed and took a taxi to our hotel for the fixed rate of 55 euros.  The taxi was clean and new, the driver was clean cut and wore a tie.  This is unlike Miami where none of those things would be true.  In Miami, taxis are generally just a bit cleaner than a port-a-let on day three of an outdoor rock concert.  The drivers are forced to bathe only on days that don't end in a "y".

We got to our hotel and were pleasantly surprised with a room with a view.  The room was large by Parisian standards, meaning you could put in a king size bed but you wouldn't have any place to walk.  Really, the room was nice and probably bigger than the cabin in which we would be spending two weeks for our cruise in the Baltic.

Our Room View in Paris, the Eiffel Tower is the small stick under the sun.
Foreground Church Saint Severin, built early in the13th Century

We bought our tickets for the Batobus after some considerable effort.  You see, you can buy tickets everywhere, you just can't use them.  You have to find someone to validate them and whoever that is he is harder to find than Waldo.  We started with the Tourism Office who sold us the combo ticket for both the bus and boat.  Nobody seemed to know what to do next.  We went to the boat office and they told us the tickets couldn't be used on the boat until they were certified by a bus driver.  We then made our way to a bus stop half a mile away.  He certified the tickets, gave us some new tickets and receipts.  We could now ride the bus, but couldn't ride on the boat until we took the tickets to a boat office.  We finally made it to a boat ticket office and they processed the package further to issue us tickets that could be used on both a bus or a boat for the next three days.  The Batobus/Open-Tour Bus combo package is a great way to see the city if there is any place left to see after you walk all over Paris to make it through their ticket process.

Paris Batobus Route on River Seine

We used our transportation to see three different museums and got our fill of culture.  We've now seen statues and paintings of more naked men and women than I had hoped to see in one lifetime.  I guess that's what you need to endure if you want to claim to be an art lover.

It seems that most of the paintings were either commissioned by the church or by wealthy patrons.  The latter wanted family portraits.  After seeing several hundred of these, I've come to the conclusion that wealthy people had some really ugly babies.

Henri Rousseau painting of a child

We had lunch up in the Eiffel Tower.  It's been a long time since I paid $400 for lunch.  I know this because never is a very long time.  I also have to say this was one of the best meals I've ever eaten.

Sue in Jules Verne Restaurant in Eiffel Tower

One of the things that could only come with an expensive lunch is a waiter with the unique ability to interrupt a photo you are taking of your half-finished wine glass with a pour timed to perfection.  I had the Trocadero lined up in the background, smartphone camera lined up, finger on the button to take the picture when the waiter decided it was time for a refill.  The results are totally accidental but interesting.

Timing

I was mildly upset with the waiter spoiling my shot until I saw the results.  He got a nice tip and probably thought it was his service.

Jack and Sue's European Vacation 2018 Begins

Like many Americans, I look to President Trump for inspiration.  I look, and I look, and I look again and find nothing.  That was until just the other day when I began to notice a pattern in his behavior.  Things were going really bad and sad, just like the day before, and the one before that.  What did the Trumpster do?  He went on vacation.

Now you may ask yourself, why do Sue and Jack need to take a vacation?  We live in a vacation spot envied by most of the nation.  Unlike the president, our friends aren't going to jail, sixty percent of the nation doesn't hate us, and we haven't pissed off most of the world but, we still felt we could use one of those vacation things. 

Most recently, the weather has begun to go from very hot and very humid to just regular old hot and humid.   It's a time when you can actually make the trip to the mailbox without a canteen and a change of clothes.  You'll still blister your hand on the metal front door handle but that's nothing a little ice can't fix.  Just put the ice in a glass and add some scotch.

The next problem is the destination.  Where in the world can two Americans go and not feel like they need to offer everyone an apology?  Well, we used to be able to go to Canada, but now even that's off the table.  We decided to go to the one place where even Trump is welcome, Russia.  Yes, Russia, the land of non-stop vodka, smiling babushkas, and funny looking churches with colorful domes that look like onions.

Russian dancers after only three vodkas.

Now Russia isn't one of those places where you just casually show up unannounced.  We would have to sneak up on it in a manner of speaking.  We would casually fly to Paris, take a train north to Amsterdam, and then jump on a boat headed out into the Baltic Sea.  Once out in the Baltic, you can get to Denmark, Estonia, Latvia, Finland, Germany, Lithuania, Poland, Russia, and Sweden.  We decided to pass on Latvia, Poland, and Lithuania.  We don't have anything against those folks, and I understand there are some very nice people there, it's just that our cruise ship doesn't go to those places.

The blue area with the big red dot in the middle
is the Baltic Sea; the yellow dot at the right is in Russia

If you count France and the Netherlands, we would be visiting eight different countries.  The city list would include Paris, Amsterdam, Aarhus, Kiel, Warnemunde, Copenhagen, Stockholm, Tallinn, Helsinki, and St. Petersburg.  Now, Sue and I have been to St. Petersburg many times but we understand that the one in Russia is a bit nicer than the one in Florida.  We already know that Paris France is much nicer than Paris Arkansas, or Paris Idaho, or Paris Illinois, or Paris Kentucky, or Paris Maine, or Swainsboro Georgia.  That last one in Georgia made the list because for a three year period in the 1800's it was known as Paris Georgia.  I know you read these blogs for those little-known facts you can drop into a conversation around the water cooler.  Do they even still have those?


If you've read my vacation blogs before you will notice that I didn't bother you with our months of preparation and my collection of electronics that fills half a suitcase.  We still did all of that but you can read any of my other vacation blogs and know that not much has changed.  Now I need to begin to work on my Canadian accent.  Just talk about ice hockey, drink Molson Canadian, and end every sentence with "eh."  The Canadian accent is so people will think I have a 54-year-old business woman for my president and not the 72-year-old reality show host who, on a good day, is dumber than a room full of Kardashians, eh.

Dumber than a room full of Kardashians