Ok, I'll begin with an apology for the lack of updates in the last 2 months. Sadly, the honest truth is that I have literally had nothing to say...til now.
My feet are fucked and my body broken, but I have had the best weekend away. My girlfriends Jo, Sally and I drove to Amsterdam for a girly weekend, and as always happens when we three get together...chaos ensued!
We started the trip in our usual fashion, meaning large chilled glasses of cider and a takeaway at Sally's place. We had good intentions of going to bed at a reasonable time, but as always, we chatted our hearts out and ended up getting about 4 hours sleep before we needed to leave at the ass crack of dawn on the Friday morning.
Sally, being Sally, was up and awake enough to straighten her hair, however as it was 2.30am, Jo and I settled for just brushing it before packing up the car and setting off for the Channel Tunnel. Being as it was the middle of the night, the journey passed uneventfully and we made it to the tunnel with just enough time to buy a hot drink before the train left.
This was the first time I had used the Tunnel in the car and I thought the whole thing was pretty confusing. None of the signs were clear, and at 5.30am, I wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box anyway. Neither was Sally, as with a blase 'it's all dark and there is no-one there' comment and despite the large red 'STOP HERE' signs, she roared past the passport control stop, Thelma and Louise stylee. All I saw from my perch in the backseat was a stunned face mouthing at us as we screeched past. We convinced Sal to reverse, and showed the rather humour-free french immigration officer our passports, then squealed with laughter as he crossed himself and wished us 'Bonne Chance' with our trip.
The crossing itself was surprisingly short and we were soon flying through the French countryside heading for our destination. We stopped in Belgium to use a restroom and buy some snacks. Sally was amused to come out and find Jo and I buying a cartoon porn comic and it kept us entertained for the rest of the journey to Amsterdam.We made it to the outskirts by about 11am and without too much faffing, we found a park and ride for the final leg of our journey. The decision to hop in a taxi from Amsterdam Central to our destination was unanimous and we were standing outside our rented flat in no time at all.
The flat was amazing. It looked like something from a film and I fully expected someone to call 'cut' as we stepped into the room. An open-plan loft, it was the full length of the house and as it was on the top floor, there was even a wee hatch in the kitchen, leading to a roof terrace. The decoration was very boho, and everywhere you looked there was something different to see. The french doors at the front opened to a view of the canal, and had pretty yellow and orange flowers blooming gloriously in their window box. However, we didn't have long to appreciate it as we had booked a bike tour of the city and we had to rush off to find our meeting point.
Now I need to point out that until that friday, I had not been on a bike in 20+ years. Not since I'd taken a nasty spill and lost all confidence. I was hugely wary about this part of trip and seeing the kamikaze drivers on the streets of city did nothing to alleviate my fears. There were cyclists everywhere and neither they, the vehicle drivers, or the pedestrians gave a stuff for any sort of road rules. I was pretty terrified and even Julius, our hot tour guide couldn't distract me from the fear factor of negotiating the streets. Thankfully, as we made our way to the quieter suburbs, I seemed to find my rhythm, and began to enjoy the ride. Admittedly, the bottle of wine that we shared in the midway break helped there, but don't knock it, I was a riding like a native after it! The tour lasted 3 hours and in our roughly 5 mile trek, we covered most of the city, and I definitely recommend trying it.
After dropping off the bikes back at the depot, we wandered home to change for dinner. Funnily enough, the long day took it's toll, and our '5 minutes rest' turned into an hours nap. We were shattered! But we still managed to summon enough energy to head out into the city again in search of food. We wandered across the Dam square, heading out towards the Red Light District. The shops were still open, even though it was approaching 8pm and we had fun popping in and out of various shops, window shopping for the souvenirs we would buy before we left. We found a small Italian place on Damstraat where the food was gorgeous, and the prices relatively low before meandering home for some much deserved sleep.
The next morning we headed back up the damstraat again in our (very misguided) search for the noordermarkt. We ended up in Rembrandt's Corner, right beside the Rembrandt House, for breakfast and while Sally pottered off round the nearby flea market, Jo and I put our feet up. Jo pulled out her book, and I whipped out my knitting. It was really lovely to just kick back and relax, watching the world go by. We were highly entertained by the large group of kids, maybe 12 years old average, all following their tourguide like baby ducklings, while he merrily waved his triple X flag and led them deep into the red light district. Then there was the cute collie dog who trotted past us carrying a pint of milk, with no apparent owner in sight. We happily sat there for hours, and when Sally returned we ordered some cocktails before heaing off to start the souvenir shopping.
We were all impressed with how friendly and welcming the natives were and nearly everyone spoke fantastic English. You could tell that they were genuinely happy to chat with you, and the despite the ever present cannabis, the city itself had a friendly upbeat atmosphere to it.
Before we knew it, the day was nearly over and we headed back to the flat to get ready for our guided tour of the red light district. We had returned via the rather upmarket (according to the guidebook) grocery store, Albert Heijn, and so we had some crisps and a few bttles of wine to smooth the getting ready process, but actually we wasted a happy half an hour hanging out the french doors, watching the world go by and dropping crisps on any good looking man we spotted. 2 bottles of wine later and we were ready to start the going out process.
The tour's starting point for the on the damrak was easy to find and we made it with time to spare, so naturally we thought that the only thing to do was to go to the Vodka Museum next door for a few more drinks. The guy behind the bar was from Belorusse and didn't really know what to make of us at all. Still, he poured us a shot of grey goose each and chatted as he did, killing the time until our tour.
Sadly our tour guide seemed a little dry, though we did our best to liven things up. As you can probably imagine, the district is very seedy. There didn't appear to be any girls older than 22/23 and while most looked bored standing in their windows, there were some who just looked terrified. I was surprised to hear that though prostitution has been legal in Amsterdam for 10 years, the girls still find it hard to open bank accounts, or invest their money etc. Not only that, but they pay almost 50% in taxes on the money they declare. The windows they stand behind are rented from the brothel for a certain period of time, and the doors cannot be opened from the outside. Only the girls can let someone into the room, and as well as having a panic button by the bed, there is a back door which cannot be locked from the inside, allowing help to come to their rescue if needed.
Once the tour was over, we headed back into the very small china town to get some tea. Sadly, all the food shops were closing and the place we ended up in was pretty crap. Still, it didn't stop us acquiring the remnants of a stag party and heading off to a local's bar for a few drinks. Jamie, the stag, had been abandoned by most of his friends, and along with his pal graham, was happy to spend an hour or two shooting the breeze and knocking back booze with three fine looking women. And be assured, we were looking fuckawesome hot! I was even told I looked like Adele, the singer, and one guy in the locals bar came over to tell me that my hair (a full-on 60's beehive) looked amazing. It really was a fantastic night and we were beaming as we wandered back home through the busy streets.
Sunday morning, dawned with a cacophany of church bells, though luckily, none of us were particularly hungover. We had booked to see the Anne Frank House, and decided to do that before grabbing brunch somewhere. All of us were thankful that Sally had pre-booked our tickets, cos the queue weaved halfway around the block and didn't move particularly fast. However, with our pre-booked tickets and arranged time slot, we were able to bypass the whole queue and go straight in.
You begin your tour in the offices of the main building, below the secret annex itself. These floors offer an insight into the events leading up to the families going into hiding and have videos from some of those who helped them to remain hidden up there for 2 years. Then, stepping through the small gap behind a moveably bookcase, you enter the annex itself. Whilst not tiny, the rooms are not very large, especially when you remember that 8 people had lived there for 2 years. You can still see the marks on the wall, where Otto and Edith had marked the girls heights and in Anne's room, like any teenager, the walls are covered in posters of movie stars and pictures of various royal families. The rooms are empty, as when Otto Frank realised that his children would not return to him, he swore the place would never looked lived-in again. It was heartbreaking to realise that Anne died mere weeks before Bergen-Belsen was liberated and died thinking that her entire family had gone before her.
We had a quiet brunch in the city then said our good byes to the flat. It had been such a wonderful weekend, and no-one wanted to go home but real life beckoned. with our belongings gathered, we made our way back to the park and ride and began the long journey home again. I'm already planning my next visit to the beautiful Amsterdam, and thoroughly recommend you seeing it at some point in your lives.
