Planning
Early in 2007, my wife and I, along with her parents, decided to travel to Europe over the Thanksgiving holiday. I had never been to Europe, so I was doubly excited to finally get some good, old fashioned European culture. After several dinners out to finalize the plans, my in-laws had mapped out a course for us to take that would span four full days. The trip would allow us to see the dichotomous relationship between old world, conservative Holland and Amsterdam, which is widely known for its liberal drug use and sexual openness.
Day 1: Boston to Schiphol to Delft...
Our flight out of Logan International Airport was late in the evening of Tuesday, November 20th. We arrived at Amsterdam Airport Schiphol bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Wednesday morning, the 21st of November, and after grabbing our bags and rental car were on our way. My in-laws, Phil and Donna, had been to Holland before, so their familiarity with the country played a large role in our assimilation into the culture. Our first stop was in the seaside town of Scheveningen, known to have the countries only pier. We parked, made sure to thoroughly confound ourselves with the parking meters, and walked along the beach on our way to the pier. It being November, and suffering from the same climate as New England, I wouldn't be exaggerating toomuch if I said we were the only ones walking the shore of the North Sea that fine Wednesday. We made our way to the end of the pier, Sony Handycam in tow, and had a fine lunch of authentic Dutch food to fuel us for the remainder of our day. Because it was my first meal in Europe, I went with the old adage of "When in Rome," and tried mayonnaise on my french fries. Well, "A" for effort, as that was disgusting, and I stuck with ketchup the remainder of the trip. I had some form of sausage if I can remember correctly, and the only other thing I can remember from that first lunch was that my father-in-law Phil ordered a bowl of snert, which is pea soup. Why is that memorable? Because he ordered snert at every single meal, or so it seemed. Tasty, though, so I can't blame him in hindsight. After our meal we ambled back to the rental car and headed off to our next stop, Delft, where we would be staying for the night.
I'll say it here, now, and I'll say it again. I want to move to Delft. I want to live there, work there, eat and drink there, and spend the rest of my life with Brooke and have little Dutch children there. It's that cool. It might be the fact that it was the first European city that I spent some time in, I don't know, but the size of the city along with it's immense quantity and quality of restaurants, shops, coffee shops, bars, etc. all centered around the city square makes for one perfect place to spend time. We checked into our hotel, the Hotel De Vlaming, and while Brooke, Donna, and I walked around, Phil found a spot for the car. Thirty long minutes later Phil finally found us, and we were on our way to explore Delft. The city is much like a miniature version of Amsterdam in that it has an intricate canal system spider-webbing its way through the side streets. We got to the square just in time to catch the vendors still open, and I made my first (note: only) mistake of the trip. I'm a huge fan of both Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern of the Travel Channel. They easily have two of the greatest jobs on the planet. Now, I found myself in a similar situation as they normally do. An American with a voracious appetite and a penchant for trying just about any food placed in front of him. "I'll take one smoked herring sandwich, with onions please" are words I wish I could take back, but I can't. I love fish. I love onions. I love most things smoked. I did not love this sandwich; I loathed it. It had the most foul, rotten fish taste combined with the texture of cream cheese. My first foreign culinary adventure ended with a quick gag and heave into the nearest trash can. As my eyes watered to the point of tears, I found myself in a life-and-death battle with the taste left lingering in my mouth. With my wife and in-laws loudly applauding my public folly, we continued browsing through the maze of vendors as we slowly made our way out to the other side of the square. Having not slept on the overnight transatlantic flight, we were in desperate need of caffeine almost as much as I was in need of mouthwash. We made our way up and down dozens of side streets walking by an endless amount of cool shops and boutiques, and found a coffee shop to our liking. We grabbed four cappuccinos and rested for a bit before we started off again through Delft. We made our way over to Olde Delft, taking pictures along the way, and worked our way back to the hotel an hour or so before dinner. We had chosen an interesting looking restaurant on the second floor overlooking the square for dinner on our way back, but sorely needed a shower and nap before attempting to tackle dinner and wine.
It wasn't until halfway through dinner that Phil and Donna realized they had eaten there before, some 10 years earlier. Our dinner was fantastic, as were the several bottles of wine. On our walk back, we decided to stop in to the corner bar a few doors from our hotel. The greatest thing about this bar was that it was completely authentic and filled with nothing but locals. Phil and Donna went back to the hotel after one drink, and Brooke and I made the fatal mistake of deciding to stay out late on our first night in Holland. A few things added up to what ultimately became one of the greatest nights of my life. Brooke and I had barely slept in over 24 hours. Brooke and I also paid no attention to the much, much higher alcohol content in Dutch and Belgian beer. Lastly, Brooke and I had a great rapport with Helmer, the bartender. Our mutual affection worked like this: we liked how he kept bringing us different beers at his discretion throughout the night, and he liked how we ended up spending a lot of money in his bar. It was the perfect relationship. At the end of the night, eight rounds later, it was time to go home and get some sleep. It was now well past midnight, and we were well past inebriated. Helmer had informed us that under no circumstances were we to take any glasses home with us. Brooke, in her infinite defiance, decided Helmer was wrong and that we were entitled to these glasses. As we made our way out the door, Helmer busted us. Because of how much we had drank, Brooke had forgotten to hide the glasses, and assumed that Helmer just wouldn't see her walking out with two glasses in her hands. She retreated to the bar area in an attempt to negotiate an appropriate price for the glasses. Helmer kindly offered to sell the glasses to us for 20 euros. Brooke didn't like that. Brooke wanted to pay 40 euros, to which Helmer quickly accepted. I was too close to the door to object and intervene in this matter, so approximately $75 later, we had our authentic Dutch beer glasses to bring home. We found our hotel only by trying the key in every door between the bar and hotel. We somehow got the door open, and as we walked to our room I failed to negotiate a slight bend in the hallway and got tangled up with a rather large potted tree. I think I won that battle, as evidenced by the mounds of potting soil found on the hallway carpet the next morning. Hours later, we were woken up by Donna banging on the door to let us know it was time to get up and get ready. We were still drunk. I mean drunk drunk. I handled it much better than expected. A few cups of coffee in the small hotel kitchen, paired with some hard-boiled eggs and cold cuts, and I was back to normal. Brooke? Well, that's a different story.
Day 2: Gouda, Giethoorn and up to Harlingen
We took one last stroll through Delft hitting whatever shops weren't open the night before. I got my Aunt a nice piece of Delftware for Christmas, and a few more stops later we were back at the rental car. We packed up and headed to Gouda. What trip to Holland would be complete without stopping at McDonald's so Brooke can get some hangover-fighting' food? The best part of the whole thing was the fact that Brooke was too hungover to even eat McDonald's. Guess who ate her two hamburgers, fries, and Diet Coke? Yep.
Gouda, pronounced How-da, was only a half-hour ride from Delft, which worked out well for Brooke. She was a trooper, though, and despite having a life-ending hangover managed to keep pace with the rest of us. The square in Gouda was much smaller than Delft, so we grabbed a coffee and walked around for a little while. Of interest was the oldest Protestant Church in Holland, De Sint Janskerk, situated right in the middle of Gouda. Quick story about the church: during World War II, each stained-glass window was taken down and disassembled pane-by-pane and hidden from the Nazi occupants. Each window was at least 20 feet tall, and contained hundreds of panes. After the war was over, each window was then reconstructed pane-by-pane and the church was restored to full working order. To our delight, the church had something going on that day. Thirty or so school children from Gouda were singing in the chorus. We sat for almost thirty minutes as we listened to the small children sing hymns in both Dutch and English. One of the most moving moments of my life, it was just beautiful to witness. After we finished walking around Gouda we hopped in the car and headed for Geithoorn, known as the "Venice" of Holland.
Giethoorn was undoubtedly the longest two hours Brooke has ever spent in a car. Even though she slept for most of it, it was a visible struggle. The Dutch countryside was beautiful to witness as it rolled by outside my window. Farmland dotted with windmills of varying ages for miles and miles. Thanks to TomTom and its seductive narrator, we found Giethoorn. It is hard to describe in words, as it is nestled in behind roads and between fields. It is a canal system that meanders through beautiful homes and lush gardens with walking paths and foot bridges on both sides. We grabbed a late lunch at an old restaurant on the canal and were then blessed with the opportunity to walk back along the canal as the sun set to our left and melted into a distant field. Because my words don't do it much justice, hopefully my pictures can.
Our day was almost complete. We had one more place to go where we would spend the night, Harlingen. Situated in northern Holland, right on the North Sea, Harlingen is reminiscent of the old fishing villages that spot the New England coastline. Well, I guess it's more appropriate to say the reverse, as Harlingen was in place well before any of the New England fishing villages were. Our hotel, Hotel Zeezicht, was one block from the sea wall and situated right across the street from the main row of stores and restaurants. Everyone was pretty whipped, so while Brooke napped in our room, and my in-laws napped in theirs, the HandyCam and I went for a walk. It was dark by now, so the footage was "ok" at best, but it was a beautiful night. It was cold, with a strong wind whipping in from the North Sea, but it felt right. I was in a seaside village on the North Sea in November, so the temperature and winds added to the realness of everything. I had an hour or so to kill before dinner at the hotel restaurant, so I walked up and down several side streets, and even stopped in to one bar for a beer. When I got back to the hotel, Brooke had showered up and was ready to tackle the world, albeit several hours too late; we only had dinner left on the itinerary. We dined in the hotel restaurant and each had a dish of seafood caught earlier that day in the North Sea. We retired to bed shortly after dinner, eagerly anticipating the next day. The next morning was considerably easier to digest than the previous. The four of us enjoyed a nice breakfast in the hotel restaurant before heading out to walk the town. We walked much of what I had walked the previous night, but also ventured out a little further, as well. We walked along the piers and were amazed at how commercial fishermen were still utilizing old, wooden ships as their primary vessels. Sadly, none of them were named Diversity. We did plenty of window shopping before loading into the rental car for our last big stretch of the trip.
Day 3: Zaanse Schans and Amsterdam
Before we got the Zaanse Schans we were to cross over one of the seven wonders of the modern world, part of the North Sea Protection Works. According to the American Society of Civil Engineers, it is "a 19-mile-long enclosure dam built between 1927 and 1932. The immense dike, 100-yards thick at the waterline, collars the neck of the estuary once known as Zuiderzee." This land bridge, which supports a three lane highway, has a rest area with a cafe and viewing tower halfway across. We stopped, grabbed a couple of cappuccinos, and went to the top of the tower. Many short breaths later, we hopped back in the car and continued on our way to Zaanse Schans and eventually Amsterdam.
Zaanse Schans has the feel of an Old Sturbridge Village or Plymouth Plantation, but with a touch more authenticity. The working windmills of old are not on display for historical or pedagogical reasons, but are still working and grinding the same substances as they did hundreds of years ago. There is one main canal that runs through town, and on one side, the tourist side, are several old working windmills and gift shops. We went in and out of every gift shop there, making sure to buy Christmas ornaments and other souvenirs for home. The windmills were interesting. I will let some pictures portray what my words cannot, as the intricacies of the inner workings are much too complex for a layman like myself. One of the windmills was selling hot chocolate with a shot of rum. Needless to say, we quickly snatched up four cups of that. We continued walking around for a while, and on our way out, stopped back in to one of the first gift shops. My in-laws were kind enough to let us pick out a handmade ceramic plaque which would have our last name hand-painted on it, then mailed to us in the States when it was completed. To this day, the beautiful gift still adorns the entry to our home. Our last drive of the trip was a quick twenty-minute jaunt to Amsterdam, where we would spend our last two nights.
We checked into the swank Hotel Toren by the graciousness of Brooke's parents, and hit the town. After what seemed like only a few lefts and rights, we were in the main square in Amsterdam, Dam Square. We walked up and down a few blocks at a torrid pace due to the insane amount of people, and snuck into a corner bar for a quick beer. The quick beer quickly turned into two beers, but it was starting to get dark so we walked around a few more blocks until we decided upon a restaurant for dinner. Another delicious meal was had, and we quickly retired to our rooms after such a long day.
Day 4: Amsterdam
Morning quickly came bearing bad news. Donna and I woke up with bad colds, so we had to battle out our last day in The Netherlands under the weather. A cold is no match for our will to travel, though, so after a good breakfast and a lot of coffee, we were off. Our first activity was a canal tour of Amsterdam. Brooke and I were fortunate on this tour, as Phil and Donna proved to have more knowledge of the city than our rather introverted guide. Phil and Donna planned our canal tour to end right near the world famous Van Gogh Museum, where we spent several more hours browsing some of the most beautiful and historic art in the world. I'm not much of an "art" guy, but it was still mighty impressive and humbling to walk through a museum housing so many paintings belonging to one of the world's greatest artists. After hitting the gift shop and getting a print of his famous Sunflowers, we headed off to grab a late lunch. We walked past the Rijksmuseum, and down several side streets before retiring to the hotel before dinner. Yet again, we had another amazing meal. I can remember to this day that I ordered a medium-rare venison filet that will forever be ingrained in my memory. My cold was still trying to hold me hostage, but because it was our last night, Brooke talked me into a walk through the famed Red Light District. It was well worth staying out in a cold, rainy night to walk through this area. We obviously did nothing more than simply walk up and down the streets of the district, but it was still an amazing experience to see how this area operates. It was an interesting mix of beautiful women and not-so-beautiful women trying to tempt any male or female into spending money on their services. We had walked around the city so much in the two days we were there that we knew exactly how to get back to our hotel, despite being many blocks away. When we eventually returned it was late, so we just went right to bed.
Day 5: Amsterdam and back to Boston
Our last morning in Amsterdam saw us walk many miles. We had a few hours to burn before we had to head back to Schiphol, so Brooke and I grabbed coffees at a coffee shop in Dam Square and headed back to the flower market for one last walk-through. We probably walked two or three miles that morning just to see as much of the city for one last time as possible. The trip was four amazing days. I was able to absorb so much of the culture that I otherwise wouldn't have been able to enjoy without the presence of my in-laws. On top of that, one day Brooke and I will be able to sit down and show our kids pictures of the time we went to Holland with their grandparents. We certainly look forward to getting back to Europe and seeing as many countries as possible, and the method we used to see Holland, driving to a different city every night, was a great way to see the country.
Early in 2007, my wife and I, along with her parents, decided to travel to Europe over the Thanksgiving holiday. I had never been to Europe, so I was doubly excited to finally get some good, old fashioned European culture. After several dinners out to finalize the plans, my in-laws had mapped out a course for us to take that would span four full days. The trip would allow us to see the dichotomous relationship between old world, conservative Holland and Amsterdam, which is widely known for its liberal drug use and sexual openness.
Day 1: Boston to Schiphol to Delft...
Our flight out of Logan International Airport was late in the evening of Tuesday, November 20th. We arrived at Amsterdam Airport Schiphol bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Wednesday morning, the 21st of November, and after grabbing our bags and rental car were on our way. My in-laws, Phil and Donna, had been to Holland before, so their familiarity with the country played a large role in our assimilation into the culture. Our first stop was in the seaside town of Scheveningen, known to have the countries only pier. We parked, made sure to thoroughly confound ourselves with the parking meters, and walked along the beach on our way to the pier. It being November, and suffering from the same climate as New England, I wouldn't be exaggerating toomuch if I said we were the only ones walking the shore of the North Sea that fine Wednesday. We made our way to the end of the pier, Sony Handycam in tow, and had a fine lunch of authentic Dutch food to fuel us for the remainder of our day. Because it was my first meal in Europe, I went with the old adage of "When in Rome," and tried mayonnaise on my french fries. Well, "A" for effort, as that was disgusting, and I stuck with ketchup the remainder of the trip. I had some form of sausage if I can remember correctly, and the only other thing I can remember from that first lunch was that my father-in-law Phil ordered a bowl of snert, which is pea soup. Why is that memorable? Because he ordered snert at every single meal, or so it seemed. Tasty, though, so I can't blame him in hindsight. After our meal we ambled back to the rental car and headed off to our next stop, Delft, where we would be staying for the night.
I'll say it here, now, and I'll say it again. I want to move to Delft. I want to live there, work there, eat and drink there, and spend the rest of my life with Brooke and have little Dutch children there. It's that cool. It might be the fact that it was the first European city that I spent some time in, I don't know, but the size of the city along with it's immense quantity and quality of restaurants, shops, coffee shops, bars, etc. all centered around the city square makes for one perfect place to spend time. We checked into our hotel, the Hotel De Vlaming, and while Brooke, Donna, and I walked around, Phil found a spot for the car. Thirty long minutes later Phil finally found us, and we were on our way to explore Delft. The city is much like a miniature version of Amsterdam in that it has an intricate canal system spider-webbing its way through the side streets. We got to the square just in time to catch the vendors still open, and I made my first (note: only) mistake of the trip. I'm a huge fan of both Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern of the Travel Channel. They easily have two of the greatest jobs on the planet. Now, I found myself in a similar situation as they normally do. An American with a voracious appetite and a penchant for trying just about any food placed in front of him. "I'll take one smoked herring sandwich, with onions please" are words I wish I could take back, but I can't. I love fish. I love onions. I love most things smoked. I did not love this sandwich; I loathed it. It had the most foul, rotten fish taste combined with the texture of cream cheese. My first foreign culinary adventure ended with a quick gag and heave into the nearest trash can. As my eyes watered to the point of tears, I found myself in a life-and-death battle with the taste left lingering in my mouth. With my wife and in-laws loudly applauding my public folly, we continued browsing through the maze of vendors as we slowly made our way out to the other side of the square. Having not slept on the overnight transatlantic flight, we were in desperate need of caffeine almost as much as I was in need of mouthwash. We made our way up and down dozens of side streets walking by an endless amount of cool shops and boutiques, and found a coffee shop to our liking. We grabbed four cappuccinos and rested for a bit before we started off again through Delft. We made our way over to Olde Delft, taking pictures along the way, and worked our way back to the hotel an hour or so before dinner. We had chosen an interesting looking restaurant on the second floor overlooking the square for dinner on our way back, but sorely needed a shower and nap before attempting to tackle dinner and wine.
It wasn't until halfway through dinner that Phil and Donna realized they had eaten there before, some 10 years earlier. Our dinner was fantastic, as were the several bottles of wine. On our walk back, we decided to stop in to the corner bar a few doors from our hotel. The greatest thing about this bar was that it was completely authentic and filled with nothing but locals. Phil and Donna went back to the hotel after one drink, and Brooke and I made the fatal mistake of deciding to stay out late on our first night in Holland. A few things added up to what ultimately became one of the greatest nights of my life. Brooke and I had barely slept in over 24 hours. Brooke and I also paid no attention to the much, much higher alcohol content in Dutch and Belgian beer. Lastly, Brooke and I had a great rapport with Helmer, the bartender. Our mutual affection worked like this: we liked how he kept bringing us different beers at his discretion throughout the night, and he liked how we ended up spending a lot of money in his bar. It was the perfect relationship. At the end of the night, eight rounds later, it was time to go home and get some sleep. It was now well past midnight, and we were well past inebriated. Helmer had informed us that under no circumstances were we to take any glasses home with us. Brooke, in her infinite defiance, decided Helmer was wrong and that we were entitled to these glasses. As we made our way out the door, Helmer busted us. Because of how much we had drank, Brooke had forgotten to hide the glasses, and assumed that Helmer just wouldn't see her walking out with two glasses in her hands. She retreated to the bar area in an attempt to negotiate an appropriate price for the glasses. Helmer kindly offered to sell the glasses to us for 20 euros. Brooke didn't like that. Brooke wanted to pay 40 euros, to which Helmer quickly accepted. I was too close to the door to object and intervene in this matter, so approximately $75 later, we had our authentic Dutch beer glasses to bring home. We found our hotel only by trying the key in every door between the bar and hotel. We somehow got the door open, and as we walked to our room I failed to negotiate a slight bend in the hallway and got tangled up with a rather large potted tree. I think I won that battle, as evidenced by the mounds of potting soil found on the hallway carpet the next morning. Hours later, we were woken up by Donna banging on the door to let us know it was time to get up and get ready. We were still drunk. I mean drunk drunk. I handled it much better than expected. A few cups of coffee in the small hotel kitchen, paired with some hard-boiled eggs and cold cuts, and I was back to normal. Brooke? Well, that's a different story.
Day 2: Gouda, Giethoorn and up to Harlingen
We took one last stroll through Delft hitting whatever shops weren't open the night before. I got my Aunt a nice piece of Delftware for Christmas, and a few more stops later we were back at the rental car. We packed up and headed to Gouda. What trip to Holland would be complete without stopping at McDonald's so Brooke can get some hangover-fighting' food? The best part of the whole thing was the fact that Brooke was too hungover to even eat McDonald's. Guess who ate her two hamburgers, fries, and Diet Coke? Yep.
Gouda, pronounced How-da, was only a half-hour ride from Delft, which worked out well for Brooke. She was a trooper, though, and despite having a life-ending hangover managed to keep pace with the rest of us. The square in Gouda was much smaller than Delft, so we grabbed a coffee and walked around for a little while. Of interest was the oldest Protestant Church in Holland, De Sint Janskerk, situated right in the middle of Gouda. Quick story about the church: during World War II, each stained-glass window was taken down and disassembled pane-by-pane and hidden from the Nazi occupants. Each window was at least 20 feet tall, and contained hundreds of panes. After the war was over, each window was then reconstructed pane-by-pane and the church was restored to full working order. To our delight, the church had something going on that day. Thirty or so school children from Gouda were singing in the chorus. We sat for almost thirty minutes as we listened to the small children sing hymns in both Dutch and English. One of the most moving moments of my life, it was just beautiful to witness. After we finished walking around Gouda we hopped in the car and headed for Geithoorn, known as the "Venice" of Holland.
Giethoorn was undoubtedly the longest two hours Brooke has ever spent in a car. Even though she slept for most of it, it was a visible struggle. The Dutch countryside was beautiful to witness as it rolled by outside my window. Farmland dotted with windmills of varying ages for miles and miles. Thanks to TomTom and its seductive narrator, we found Giethoorn. It is hard to describe in words, as it is nestled in behind roads and between fields. It is a canal system that meanders through beautiful homes and lush gardens with walking paths and foot bridges on both sides. We grabbed a late lunch at an old restaurant on the canal and were then blessed with the opportunity to walk back along the canal as the sun set to our left and melted into a distant field. Because my words don't do it much justice, hopefully my pictures can.
Our day was almost complete. We had one more place to go where we would spend the night, Harlingen. Situated in northern Holland, right on the North Sea, Harlingen is reminiscent of the old fishing villages that spot the New England coastline. Well, I guess it's more appropriate to say the reverse, as Harlingen was in place well before any of the New England fishing villages were. Our hotel, Hotel Zeezicht, was one block from the sea wall and situated right across the street from the main row of stores and restaurants. Everyone was pretty whipped, so while Brooke napped in our room, and my in-laws napped in theirs, the HandyCam and I went for a walk. It was dark by now, so the footage was "ok" at best, but it was a beautiful night. It was cold, with a strong wind whipping in from the North Sea, but it felt right. I was in a seaside village on the North Sea in November, so the temperature and winds added to the realness of everything. I had an hour or so to kill before dinner at the hotel restaurant, so I walked up and down several side streets, and even stopped in to one bar for a beer. When I got back to the hotel, Brooke had showered up and was ready to tackle the world, albeit several hours too late; we only had dinner left on the itinerary. We dined in the hotel restaurant and each had a dish of seafood caught earlier that day in the North Sea. We retired to bed shortly after dinner, eagerly anticipating the next day. The next morning was considerably easier to digest than the previous. The four of us enjoyed a nice breakfast in the hotel restaurant before heading out to walk the town. We walked much of what I had walked the previous night, but also ventured out a little further, as well. We walked along the piers and were amazed at how commercial fishermen were still utilizing old, wooden ships as their primary vessels. Sadly, none of them were named Diversity. We did plenty of window shopping before loading into the rental car for our last big stretch of the trip.
Day 3: Zaanse Schans and Amsterdam
Before we got the Zaanse Schans we were to cross over one of the seven wonders of the modern world, part of the North Sea Protection Works. According to the American Society of Civil Engineers, it is "a 19-mile-long enclosure dam built between 1927 and 1932. The immense dike, 100-yards thick at the waterline, collars the neck of the estuary once known as Zuiderzee." This land bridge, which supports a three lane highway, has a rest area with a cafe and viewing tower halfway across. We stopped, grabbed a couple of cappuccinos, and went to the top of the tower. Many short breaths later, we hopped back in the car and continued on our way to Zaanse Schans and eventually Amsterdam.
Zaanse Schans has the feel of an Old Sturbridge Village or Plymouth Plantation, but with a touch more authenticity. The working windmills of old are not on display for historical or pedagogical reasons, but are still working and grinding the same substances as they did hundreds of years ago. There is one main canal that runs through town, and on one side, the tourist side, are several old working windmills and gift shops. We went in and out of every gift shop there, making sure to buy Christmas ornaments and other souvenirs for home. The windmills were interesting. I will let some pictures portray what my words cannot, as the intricacies of the inner workings are much too complex for a layman like myself. One of the windmills was selling hot chocolate with a shot of rum. Needless to say, we quickly snatched up four cups of that. We continued walking around for a while, and on our way out, stopped back in to one of the first gift shops. My in-laws were kind enough to let us pick out a handmade ceramic plaque which would have our last name hand-painted on it, then mailed to us in the States when it was completed. To this day, the beautiful gift still adorns the entry to our home. Our last drive of the trip was a quick twenty-minute jaunt to Amsterdam, where we would spend our last two nights.
We checked into the swank Hotel Toren by the graciousness of Brooke's parents, and hit the town. After what seemed like only a few lefts and rights, we were in the main square in Amsterdam, Dam Square. We walked up and down a few blocks at a torrid pace due to the insane amount of people, and snuck into a corner bar for a quick beer. The quick beer quickly turned into two beers, but it was starting to get dark so we walked around a few more blocks until we decided upon a restaurant for dinner. Another delicious meal was had, and we quickly retired to our rooms after such a long day.
Day 4: Amsterdam
Morning quickly came bearing bad news. Donna and I woke up with bad colds, so we had to battle out our last day in The Netherlands under the weather. A cold is no match for our will to travel, though, so after a good breakfast and a lot of coffee, we were off. Our first activity was a canal tour of Amsterdam. Brooke and I were fortunate on this tour, as Phil and Donna proved to have more knowledge of the city than our rather introverted guide. Phil and Donna planned our canal tour to end right near the world famous Van Gogh Museum, where we spent several more hours browsing some of the most beautiful and historic art in the world. I'm not much of an "art" guy, but it was still mighty impressive and humbling to walk through a museum housing so many paintings belonging to one of the world's greatest artists. After hitting the gift shop and getting a print of his famous Sunflowers, we headed off to grab a late lunch. We walked past the Rijksmuseum, and down several side streets before retiring to the hotel before dinner. Yet again, we had another amazing meal. I can remember to this day that I ordered a medium-rare venison filet that will forever be ingrained in my memory. My cold was still trying to hold me hostage, but because it was our last night, Brooke talked me into a walk through the famed Red Light District. It was well worth staying out in a cold, rainy night to walk through this area. We obviously did nothing more than simply walk up and down the streets of the district, but it was still an amazing experience to see how this area operates. It was an interesting mix of beautiful women and not-so-beautiful women trying to tempt any male or female into spending money on their services. We had walked around the city so much in the two days we were there that we knew exactly how to get back to our hotel, despite being many blocks away. When we eventually returned it was late, so we just went right to bed.
Day 5: Amsterdam and back to Boston
Our last morning in Amsterdam saw us walk many miles. We had a few hours to burn before we had to head back to Schiphol, so Brooke and I grabbed coffees at a coffee shop in Dam Square and headed back to the flower market for one last walk-through. We probably walked two or three miles that morning just to see as much of the city for one last time as possible. The trip was four amazing days. I was able to absorb so much of the culture that I otherwise wouldn't have been able to enjoy without the presence of my in-laws. On top of that, one day Brooke and I will be able to sit down and show our kids pictures of the time we went to Holland with their grandparents. We certainly look forward to getting back to Europe and seeing as many countries as possible, and the method we used to see Holland, driving to a different city every night, was a great way to see the country.