I think we both tried to sleep a little later, with no real pressure to get up. Our only plans were for late in the day at the Anne Frank house, where we had a reservation. In the meantime, we prioritized things like breakfast. For my part, I was happy to be in a place where a hearty morning meal with eggs and toast were served rather than sliced meat and cheese or jam on a roll. Not that I don't like those things, but deli meat in the morning doesn't get me going in the same way.
As with the day before, we walked around with vague direction. Our first destination was the Jewish Museum and old Portuguese Synagogue. When we found that not only was there an admission fee but it was steeper than any of the churches, we balked and kept going.
We meandered our way over to the Rijksmuseum, the national gallery, which featured art by all of the prominent Dutch painters, including some of Vermeer's and Rembrandt's most important works. It was organized by period, with 20th century pieces on the top floor, where I most enjoyed the architectural imaginings of Hendrik Wijdeveld. His North Sea resort plan for Zandvoort was certainly space-age futuristic, but they seemed feasible in the not too-distant future for an ambitious engineering crew. On the main level, I really did enjoy the Vermeers and Rembrandts, but they were surrounded by lesser works that seemed to be given equal weight through presentation by the gallery, and even in this early part of tourist-season they were mobbed by people with flash cameras and pointy elbows to the extent that I didn't particularly enjoy lingering for too long in front of the pieces I liked most. I'm not a huge fan of the Dutch Baroque art in general, and I gravitated most to Rembrandt's "The Conspiracy Of The Batavians," which was the most distorted and almost impressionistic of the lot. The 19th century gallery was hardly different. The Netherlands' distinguished Vincent van Gogh was represented by a scant three pieces, two of them rather lesser works and one famous self-portrait that was swarmed by people. The impressionist section was also underwhelming, and perhaps my favorite piece in the 19th century section was Jan Willem Pieneman's "The Battle Of Waterloo;" however that was so big for the gallery it was placed in I felt the lighting didn't fairly capture the scope of the enormous painting. There were always parts of it lost in both the glare of the lights and the darkness outside where they weren't pointed. I'm glad I went, and it was a worthwhile experience to see the pieces I did like. The building itself was also impressive and beautiful in the areas in between the galleries, but all in all I think we were both disappointed by what the museum was lacking.
We walked a bit more around the park in the museum district, scoping out the Stedelijk (Modern and Contemporary) and Van Gogh museums, but we were not ready for another at the time. We strolled back in the direction of the hotel, trying some fried herring from a street cart along the way. Supposedly that's another Amsterdam staple, but the cart we got it from microwaved the fish before we ate it. It lacked the necessary crunch of good fried fish with tartar sauce. This certainly whet my appetite for more food, and we stopped in an Irish pub around 5PM, each getting burgers and a black and tan.
After lunch, we hung out at the hotel, decompressing a bit and recovering from the heat, which got up to the low 80s during the day's peak. Then we headed over to the Anne Frank house, cutting the long line with our 7:40 reservation. It was absolutely a worthwhile visit. I half-expected going in you'd ride up to the annex in an elevator, look around, and head out. The museum was extremely well-curated though. Excerpts from her diary were painted on the walls and short videos telling the narrative and featuring those who knew her played in the rooms of the supporting buildings. As you made your way into her father Otto's office, scale models demonstrated how the annex was laid out during their time of hiding. Most of the interior belongings were removed when it was raided by the SS, and Otto had supervised the creation of the models so that the space itself should remain bare for people to view. By the time you walked into the annex, behind the bookcase still filled with binders from Otto's jam business, you were primed for the experience. Anne's walls were still covered in pictures of 1940s celebrities she was fond of, if preserved under plexiglass. A few other token items were displayed in the space, such as Otto's copy of a Charles Dickens book he was reading at the time to stay occupied while learning English.
At the top of the annex was an attic, which was viewable only by virtue of a mirror from the floor below, and then visitors proceeded into the next building over, where there was more space working back down the stairs to ground level reflecting on the families' experiences in concentration camps and the impact of Anne's work on the world and our perception of the Holocaust. I'd seen a film adaptation of the diary before, but being in the house certainly made me want to read the book itself. She was clearly a talented young individual with a knack for capturing the narrative of their story. The whole experience was particularly moving for my mom, who just finished reading the diary a few days prior.
Afterwards, we walked around the Jordaan again, looking for dinner. We settled in at a Spanish restaurant, where we got Rioja Blanco alongside three shared appetizers: salad with avocado, roasted peppers, and caramelized mushrooms, pan-fried squid in a sherry sauce, and clams in a white sauce. I thought the seafood was all good, but the standouts were really the sauces. I enjoyed sopping them up with bread as much as eating the protein.
I really enjoyed observing the different dynamic at restaurants in Germany and the Netherlands. Everywhere was self-seating. Maybe that's just the restaurants we stumbled into, but it was definitely the norm. I never saw a seating host anywhere. All of the servers also appeared to work together without a specific set of tables. In fact, multiple servers often came up to ask for our order after we'd sat down, and even after, they all continued to help out at every table, not that this necessarily made for better service. On the contrary, I felt like while they were interested in helping, there wasn't the same eagerness that I'd usually find from servers in America who are working for tips. Apparently they're paid better than teachers in Amsterdam with minimal tips, so maybe there was less incentive. Regardless, I find it refreshing to see people in the service industry treated well. Tap water was also not expected to be served. In Amsterdam they would get it if you asked, although I wouldn't expect it to have ice, be cold, or refilled unless I asked for those things as well. In Germany, they just wouldn't serve tap water. They'd come back with a bottle and charge as much as a glass of wine or beer. Fortunately alcoholic beverages were rather cheap, but I couldn't get my head around not having tap water. I think they must drink much less in general. Then, once served, we could expect to be left alone until going out of our way to ask for the check. There didn't seem to be a rush to turn over tables. I found it all fascinating.
We'd seen two ice cream places on our walks in the neighborhood with really long lines, so we thought we'd seek them out for dessert, but by the time we reached each of them, they were both closed. It would have to be a treat for another night.
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