dear mr & mrs bloggie…
It was interesting, in the most expected way, for me to fall in love with yet another European country. Who would’ve thought Amsterdam had me captivated but trust me, ladies and gentlemen, that was not even half of what I’m feeling.
The weather was perfect to begin with. Summer it was but the hints of winter could be felt, oh yes it could. Ahhh….nevertheless, it didn’t dampen my spirits one bit, or Claris for that matter, who by the way was my colleague and partner for this trip. We were so ON, even the rain that day couln't stop us from venturing. Ehem.
Because she wanted to visit a particular museum outside Amsterdam, I tagged along on the train ride to Haarlem. It was every bit spectacular, to say the least. Trust me, I’m not kidding you.
Allow me to sidetrack here a little. The museum that I had mentioned was in fact an actual house owned by a lady named Corrie ten Boom. Maybe the older generation would heard of her or watch her autobiography, ‘The Hiding Place’. The time of the Nazi it was, a vital information I must include. If you’re free, I urge you to read at least a gist about her. Yea, I’ve put the link for your convenience. She was a woman with a true pure heart, this has to be declared. I can strongly say no words could describe the way she could forgive another so easily despite the odds that were against her.
This was the picture I took of her room. The Jews managed to hide behind the wall by going through that hole in the cupboard. The shattered wall was there to show what was in the hiding place. Creeeepy!
I digress.
Another museum that I went to next was a different sort altogether. *chuckles* I paid a visit to the sex museum, God forgive this sinner here!
It was pretty hilarious, and kinda kinky. Just thinking about it tickles me senseless. Nothing shocking, really, but entertaining hey with all the posters and paintings and what have you displayed in-your-face kind. And considering the fact that it was a museum, the pictures were classic, taken from the time before my grandmother was even born. Eeeks.
As night soon emerged- though the surrounding was still bright and sunny, Claris and I took off to the place, if not the only place, that Amsterdam is so well-known for.
Yea, I stepped into the domain of the RED LIGHT DISTRICT. Jeng jeng jeng…
I was a tad disappointed, if I may say so, because the selection of prostitutes in the windows was not as many as I had hoped for. Even so, for what it’s worth, it was definitely quality over quantity. The half-naked ladies (an oxymoron for the English) were such beauties. I couldn’t put myself to say the same for the plus sizes though. They were scary. Period.
The smell of weed were everywhere and intoxicating was what it was. Tempted lah, all the same but, I behaved quite well, I have to give myself props. Ha. I smoked only my fags. Ya uh!
Another tempting offer was the sex shops there. Everything was sold cheap and the toys were mind-blowing, try telling that to your lil kid. It sure serves for all intents and purposes, in a crude manner of speaking that is. Gawd, don’t you people just love Holland? Hurhurhur..
Another reason why this trip was significant to me was because of
Anne Frank. Ring a bell somewhere?
I had read her 'diary' when I was in secondary two. So excited was I when I managed to find a copy in my school library back then. Who would’ve thought nine years later I was given the opportunity to see the actual real life diary of this young girl.
As you guys might have guessed, yea, I did pay a visit to the Anne Frank Museum which was her hideout, to boot, her father’s office. I wanted to pinch myself when I was standing at the very place she wrote her diary. It was surreal, truly just because.
I wanted to cry but I was too embarrassed with the people surrounding me. Still, it was a sad place to be.
I wish I could show you guys the contents of the museums but taking pictures were not allowed. Gah….even the prostitutes on the window displays I was not allowed to take a snap or two. A waste.
As the two days whizzed past me, I was reluctant to get back in the plane and go home. That short getaway was what I needed but it was just not enough. I have not visited the windmill and I do hope the next time I get to cycle. There are so many things to see. I need the train, the bus, the bicycle even!
Amsterdam is a place full of culture and tradition. And I heard the best time to visit is in April, that’s when spring will arrive and beautiful tulips will bloom. Wont’ that be a sight to behold? Heavenly.
A fact to share: I don’t know whether you guys know this but there is a lot of Indonesians staying there. Not to mention, the Dutch knows how to speak the bahasa. Interesting aye? I have to give credit, for Europeans, the Dutch were quite a friendly bunch. Sweet. There were a few good-looking mixed blood I saw and believe me, this is a country I don’t mind migrating to. Boy, London would have a run for their money I’d say.
Should it still be a wonder why I didn’t wanna go back just yet?
Haiz….
cinta
fasyalba
Labels: i feel ok.
