i give up. part one of two: Amsterdam.

I hadn't noticed this the last time I wrote, but the tops of the trees across the street are very sneakily TURNING RED. Stupid fall, with your pretty leaf colors, which we all know is just a prelude to everything TURNING BROWN AND DYING. But we're looking on the bright side, aren't we: maybe this means my cats' ridiculous shedding will finally stop. I've said it before and I'll say it again: with the sheer amounts of hair they leave on the floor, the couch, and my clothes, I don't know how they're not bald.

Apologies, kids: this one's going to be lengthy. Amsterdam was action-packed.

But I digress. Amsterdam...that's where we were headed. The last time I was in Amsterdam was the year 2000, and it was the second-to-last stop on my epic solo backpacking adventure, and I was so relieved to be back in a place where people were nice and spoke plenty of English. (This was immediately after my sojourn in Berlin, which, as you may recall, was not the happiest moment of my trip.) I don't remember the red light district being particularly seedy, and I remember being entirely overwhelmed both by the sheer amount of stuff in the Rijksmuseum, and by the sheer awesomeness of the Van Gogh Museum. And also that I stayed in a hostel called the Flying Pig. Amsterdam was nice to me, the first time around, and I was excited to go back. I think it's a gorgeous and interesting city, full of all sorts of strange and interesting little things you only find by accident. And also, DOUBLE-FRIED FRENCH FRIES. Mmmmm. God bless the Dutch.

Driving into the city...insane row houses.

First view of the Rijksmuseum.

Interesting little Art Nouveau-y touches on Leidsestraat, near our hotel.

Our first evening in the city was spent finding dinner; Dad had seen this little Portuguese restaurant down a small alley near our hotel, and was very interested in it, so in we went. Portugalia turned out to be a fantastic choice; we got a table right by the big front window and ordered serious amounts of food. We shared a plate of Portuguese cheese and ham with melon, then Mike had (what looked like to me, anyway) a little copper spaceship full of pork cooked with peppers, onions, lemon, shrimp, and clams; Mom had grilled cod (bacalau) with fries; Dad had a whole grilled fish (dourada) with lemon, sea salt, and more of those tremendous fries; and I had a plate full of chopped cod in a creamy tomato sauce with vegetables. And more fries. We finished by splitting a piece of traditional almond cake, and Mike and I sampled (at our waiter's suggestion) the beirão liqueur, which tasted a little like licorice, but in a good way. (As do most sane people, I despise black licorice...so this liqueur came as a bit of a surprise.)

Just look at this gorgeous table! (Note Mike's copper spaceship on the far left. And our glasses of vinho verde...a first for us.) 

The goofy little carousel-themed Dutch pancake house where we had breakfast three of our four mornings in Amsterdam. (The first day I went for one with bacon, onions, and cheese, which was fantastic...but every day thereafter I opted for strawberries and lemon curd. So very tart. Mmmm. Dad had a bacon pancake every day, and Mom went for fresh strawberries with poffertjes--little super-puffy, bite-sized, buckwheat pancake-like things. Also tasty. And since I don't speak Dutch, it's fun to say that Mom had poverty for breakfast.)

Poverty with strawberries and whipped cream! Ok, I know, poverty's not funny...but the word "poffertjes" is.

This is what a bacon-and-syrup Dutch pancake looks like. Sadly, no photos exist of my strawberries 'n lemon curd pancakes, but they weren't too photogenic with globs of curd all over them. It's just too bad I can't post the flavor here for you all to enjoy...it was supremely tasty.

Since Mike only had a day with us in Amsterdam, we let him pick what he wanted to do first. After pancakes, we started at the Van Gogh museum, which was ridiculously crowded, but also just as awesome as I remember, if not even a little more so. Because I have a lot to say about this museum, but no photos 'cause they don't let you use a camera there, I will just say that it ROCKS and you should go. Everyone should go. And for a further treatment, see below.* 

Anyway...after the glorious Van Gogh Museum, Mike's second item of business was to visit the floating flower market (Bloemenmarkt), which turned out to be a fun, if touristy, time. It's a series of little open-front shops all in a row, the backs of which are floating on a canal...a little cheesy, maybe, but the shops which had actual flowers (and not just giant selections of bulbs or wooden tulips) were gorgeous.

Look at these calla lilies! 

Colors like I've never seen.

Bunches o' bulbs. I bought a couple of blue and one black tulip to plant mid-winter, so I can at least have some plant-y color during the winter doldrums. I do love me some blue flowers.

Like these delphiniums, for example.

I don't remember what these are called, but the purple and pale green was striking.

Ahh, blue hydrangea. I'm a huge sucker for these guys. I'm guessing it's because they remind me of candy. (I'm pretty sure I've said that before.)

Ok, so even the little wooden tulips were cute.

Immediately behind us, on the same street as the flower markets, were a couple of cheese shops. Which, naturally, we were immediately sucked into, as soon as we noticed them. We then spent about a half-hour cramming our faces with every type they were sampling, from aged goat cheese to a pepper-jack-like white cheese to a bright green pesto cheese (frighteningly colored, but yummy!) to all sorts of classic Dutch cheeses, which they thoughtfully served with their own delicious line of mustards. So. Much. Cheese. Naturally, we came home with several pounds of the stuff, along with a jar each of dill and honey mustards, and a box of gouda crackers. 

Ahhh, a whole wall of Gouda. I really appreciate how mild and inoffensive, but still flavorful and delicious, the Dutch cheeses are.** 

After cheese tasting, we didn't have a whole lot of time until Mike had to leave, so we stopped on the Leidseplein (giant, busy square absolutely packed with huge outdoor cafes and full of street performers) for some drinks and snackies. It was nice outside, so we sat and ate bitterballen and some fantastic little meat-filled spring rolls with a delicious spicy dipping sauce...a nice way to end a lovely day. 

Mom and Dad enjoying some nice, warm, outdoor weather, for once on this trip. I think Amsterdam was the warmest and sunniest place we visited.

Day 2 was our first trip to Haarlem, whereupon we discovered that the Corrie ten Boom house was not, in fact, open on Monday...so we toured a bit of the city and cathedral, then rushed back to Amsterdam to try for an hour or two in the Rijksmuseum. Which, as it turns out is under major construction. On the one hand, it was almost a good thing, 'cause they kept only the really famous and fascinating stuff on display, kinda like a condensed version of the collection; but on the other hand kinda sad, since I'm sure we missed actual zillions of interesting things. I have to admit that I was a little relieved, though, because I love museums and want to see everything, but I also suffer from museum saturation from time to time...and this was one of those times. We still got to see some Delft ceramics, Dutch silversmiths' masterworks, a handful of Rembrandts (thank goodness...!), several Vermeers, and lots of other amazing stuff. And they let me use my camera (no flash, of course). (For some reason, I was a complete idiot and chose not to photograph any of the Vermeers, which were, naturally, outstanding. My favorite was The Milkmaid. The guy was good.)

Delftware from 1695-1715.

A little more Delft. These things are flower vases and are roughly as tall as I am. 

Detail of an inlaid cabinet. Holy marquetry skills, Batman.***

Most. Amazing Still life. EVER. This is only about half of the painting. From 1635, by Willem Claesz Heda. The reflections and light details are outrageous.

Silver ewer from 1614, by Adam van Vianen.

A little Rembrandt for you: a portion of The Night Watch. 

Ok, so clearly this wasn't in the museum, but it was on the side of one of the little food booths (which were actually quite charming, and had shockingly good food and coffee, for being on a major tourist thoroughfare) in the giant square in front of the Rijksmuseum. It was calling my name, like they posted this 'cause they knew I was coming to visit...but I resisted its siren song. (Have I mentioned that this is one of my favorite websites...? And also, do not visit this website if you have any kind of food hang-ups at all.)

Day three was our second (and this time successful) trip to Haarlem, and upon our return to Amsterdam, since we had no other agenda, we decided to walk from the main train station to the Oude Kerk (old church)...which, as it turns out, is smack in the middle of the Red Light District. Let's face it: even if you're not going to Amsterdam for the legalized prostitution or pot, you've still got to visit the Red Light District. Not only is it a busy and interesting part of town and a functioning urban neighborhood (wherein families actually live, although I don't think I could take the crowds...!), but it's the place to see the quintessential Dutch canal architecture...and it's pretty. Really, really pretty, with all sorts of wonky alleys and old buildings and bridges and whatnot. 

On our way into the Red Light District, we decided to poke our heads into the rather impressive-looking Church of St. Nicholas, which about 2 minutes across the square from the station, is the primary Catholic church in the city, and is not old (late 19th century).

Very Orthodox interior.

See? I'm telling you...the seedier part of town is just lovely.

I love these super-narrow buildings. Yes, they really are all that wonky.

Row houses along the canal...bridges...

 What could possibly be more evocative of Amsterdam than this?

The next stop on our church-y itinerary was to be the Old Church, but then we saw this.

A museum consisting of a hidden Catholic church?? You know we are going in here.

The official transfer of Amsterdam into Protestant hands occurred in 1578, and as we've seen, no matter the denomination, the victors tended to persecute the vanquished...so the practice of Catholic mass was banned within the city. Our Lord in the Attic came into being in 1661, when Jan Hartman, a wealthy merchant who also happened to value his Catholic faith, purchased three row houses in what is now the heart of the Red Light District. From the street level, all appeared to be in order, but inside, Hartman converted the attics of all three houses into a single sanctuary, complete with grandly painted altarpiece, pipe organ, three levels of seating, a Virgin Mary chapel, a confessional booth, a sacristy, and a couple of tiny fonts for holy water set into the wall. Really, it was all there, just in a more compact form. Apparently, the ruling authorities soon discovered the presence of the church, but tolerated it nonetheless...and this weird little church-in-a-canal-house became city center's primary Catholic place of worship for 200 years. Ridiculously interesting history, that.

The Hartman family's parlor and reception room.

The attic church, apparently restored to its 19th-century color scheme, and with replica gas lanterns.

A closer look at the altar.

Looking towards the back of the sanctuary, where the pipe organ would be, if the place weren't under restoration (at least it was still open). 

Back side of the pipe organ. The maker's mark is the fancy, swirly symbol over the keyboard.

The confessional booth.

I loved this room...the tall windows and woodwork reminded me of some sort of grand old ship.

One of the 17th-century kitchens. The rear house of the three was occupied until 1952 (!), after which point they restored this room to its original appearance.

These amazing little Dutch tiles were all over the house...on the kitchen walls, serving as baseboards,  and little decorative touches along the stair cases. 

What a fascinating find, and totally worth a visit next time you're strolling through old-town Amsterdam.

Next up, we tried to visit the Oude Kerk, but it had just closed for the day, so instead we took a few exterior photos and meandered our way back towards the hotel. And then this happened.

We may have stumbled across a tiny storefront selling only french fries.

They had no fewer than ten sauces on offer, but why bother, with all of this glorious, hot, crunchy goodness? Just plain and salted and straight out of the second frying cycle, thank you. I burn my mouth every time, but it is so worth it.

We also walked back through Dam Square, which is one of the bigger and busier squares I've ever seen. It's pretty impressive for its size, and just packed with people on all sides. (And pigeons, apparently: there is no possible way I could have photographed this bird overhead on purpose.)

The Royal Palace is on the left, the Nieuwe Kerk is in the center, and the National Monument is just barely visible on the far right. This place is huge.

For dinner, we roamed the streets between Dam Square and our hotel, and were relatively unimpressed until we stumbled upon Humphrey's, a place recommended by a nice employee of our hotel. It, too, had sounded unimpressive, until we read the menu...and found that there was no a-la-carte, only a three-course menu on offer for 24 Euros. Sold. They gave us a basket of delicious wheaty bread with olive oil and fresh pesto butter, and we were off. I started with a salad including shrimp, fried calamari, a boiled egg, sun-dried tomatoes, and avocado, topped with a lovely sweet-tangy dressing; proceeded to an entreé of soba noodles with vegetables and miniature edamame-filled egg rolls with soy sauce; and finished with strawberries Romanoff with vanilla ice cream. 

My awesome salad. It's too bad you can't see deliciousness.

Soba noodles and edamame "egg rolls," accompanied by the ever-present Dutch mayonnaise. (These people love the mayonnaise. It's weird how much they love it.)

Dad started with a niçoise salad with tuna, French beans, fried breaded anchovies, black olives, and roasted tomatoes in a sweet pepper sauce; had a prawn pasta with mushrooms and roasted tomatoes as his entreé; and finished with a strawberry macaron with quark and raspberries. 

Cripes...this looks delicious even now.

Dad's pretty (and really tasty) macaron.

Mom had a really nice zucchini mascarpone soup and tomato focaccia for her starter; a grilled chicken, pork, and beef skewer with a sweet onion hash and a potato cake for her entreé; and a red fruit tiramisu for dessert. (Their website calls it "tiramisu of red fruit with red fruit sauce with lady biscuits." Heh, heh. Lady biscuits.) 

Mom's skewer and sides, with--naturally--more mayonnaise. (Why??)

Red fruit tiramisu with lady biscuits. This is what it looks like.

They also kindly provided us with a side of french fries and a lovely green salad for the whole table. Ok, so the place is a chain and wasn't the fanciest food I've ever consumed, but it was really a good meal and a fantastic value for Amsterdam! A good call by the nice lady at the Hotel American. 

And speaking of which...look at this crazy, rambling, huge Art Deco place. The hotel building is kinda awesome.

And on that note, I've decided that I will leave our final day in Amsterdam for another post. This one has gone on far too long, and if I don't at least start getting this beast up online I might just go a teensy bit more nuts. Although Blogger is not letting me preview this right now, which means you're getting it spelling mistakes and formatting errors and all. Lucky you.

Next up: Amsterdam...the revenge. No, wait, that doesn't sound quite right. How about "Amsterdam...the fascinating and serendipitous conclusion"? (I think the first option has more of a ring to it, but the second is a little more accurate. Stick with me...it's really interesting.)

*Here we go. I love that the Van Gogh Museum starts you on the main floor with a room full of paintings by obscure artists who influenced Van Gogh in some way . It's always a reminder for me of how big the world is, and how little I know, when I think about the fact that the painters we know by name are but a tiny fraction of the multitudes of artists who have existed, among whom there are so many others we've never heard of who had insane amounts of talent as well. For example, I found myself staring, rather slack-jawed, for a good 10 minutes, at this painting, by an artist whose name I've never heard. The online photo does not even begin to do it justice. Because one cannot take photos in the Van Gogh museum, I have no photos to post here...just recollections of how unique Van Gogh's paintings are, and how they were obviously created by someone a bit (and, later in life, a lot) unhinged. His use of color and crazy-thick application of the paint, especially in his later works, is just fascinating and almost revolutionary, and I love that you can actually get up to within a couple of feet or so of each painting, to really give it a good look. These paintings are something to behold, even if his bandaged-ear portrait is in London, and Starry Night is in New York. (Jerks.) However. We still got to see Sunflowers, Irises, the Bedroom (amazing colors!), several other self portraits (I liked this one), Wheatfield with Crows, this crazy thing, the Potato Eaters (which I really don't love, but it's famous and all), this interesting thing, and lots of other works (arranged in rough chronological order, which was brilliant). Sadly, Almond Blossom was on loan somewhere, but my other favorites were there. They aren't nearly as flashy, but are just fascinating in the technique and perspective he used, and in the way that you have to step back a ways and sort of focus for a minute or two, and then everything becomes clear (almost like Pointilism, but not quite): Undergrowth (I loved this one on my last visit, too) and Entrance to a Quarry, which, oddly enough, is not in the museum's official list, but was absolutely on their wall (in fact, in the same room as Undergrowth and Wheatfield with Crows). The permanent collection ends with a brief walk through works by artists whom Van Gogh influenced, or with whom he had some sort of connection during his life; my favorite was this one (somehow, I actually remembered the term "Fauvist" from my art appreciation class in college, even before I saw it on the wall here...and why I can pull that from the deep, dark recesses of my mind, but sometimes forget my own telephone number, is a topic for another time). There was also some sort of exhibit on fantasy/mysticism in Van Gogh-related artists, which I really enjoyed (maybe due to its Art Nouveau-y styles and lots of flowers...?), but perhaps it was too mystical in nature, as I can find zero information about it anywhere. Weird. And then almost as an afterthought--although fantastic, and I wish I'd paid better attention--was a temporary space set up dedicated to "Beauty in Abundance," an exhibit of etching/woodcuts/lithography prints from turn-of-the-century Paris (including even a few that I knew--like Toulouse-Lautrec and Steinlen). Pretty fantastic, all around.  (This was way more than I intended to write about this museum, especially without pictures, so if you've chosen to read this, I apologize and I thank you.)

**Maybe that's why I only like a handful of the Swiss cheeses: the rest smell a little too pungent for my delicate sensibilities. (Sorry, Switzerland, but your cheeses are smelly, and I think you're actually proud that some of your cheeses only appeal to those who really "get it" [i.e., can get past the stench]. All of this can be forgiven, however, in that you are the inventors of fondue.)

***Did everyone else see the new Batman movie? I was disappointed. Sigh.