Two More Countries and No Stamps to Show for It

We left Paris for Brussels on Thursday 19 March; with the way the bus schedule worked out, we were only going to have the afternoon there before catching the red eye bus to Amsterdam on Friday morning. With the way our apparently slow bus driver drove, we got into Brussels 2 hours late. Add that on top of the terrible directions our hostel sent us, we didn’t get to our hostel until late afternoon. We wandered around (lost) long enough realize that Brussels is ugly. A girl in our Paris hostel gave us a map of Brussels; the map claimed that the city was ugly, but I was still caught off-guard. Modern apartment buildings stand tall over neon Burger King and McDonald’s signs, which are across the street from demolition site after demolition site. By the time Anna and I reached the Van Gogh Youth Hostel (Van Gogh apparently worked in the building back in the day), we were hungry, tired, in desperate need of bathing, and we did not have the stamina to cram a day’s worth of sight-seeing into a short afternoon. We therefore forfeited, settling on getting our rest and venturing out for dinner. “What did you find to eat?” you may ask. Why a Belgian waffle, of course! Fat and happy, we resigned to watching The Notebook on Anna’s computer (my guilty pleasure movie… don’t judge) before catching some zzz’s before our 5:30am bus to Amsterdam.

Amsterdam makes up in aesthetics everything Brussels lacks. People tend to associate the city simply with the progressive lifestyle, but the city is absolutely breath-taking! In fact, I would say it’s my favorite city so far (not counting Edinburgh, of course). Amsterdam (other than the Jewish quarter) wasn’t touched during WW2, leaving the 17th century buildings intact. People get huffy when the city is called the “Venice of the North,” but the canals that stripe the city would make it tempting to do so.

We stayed in the Shelter Jordan Christian Hostel. I wasn’t quite sure what we’d gotten ourselves into; in a city that is known for drug tolerance and legal prostitution, I could just visualize the aggressive hostel workers we could potentially face. This was not the case. Instead, it was a nice, clean hostel in a prime location. We were not allowed, however, to bring drugs or alcohol onto the premises. Anna and I barely managed to follow these commandments. (To be read with sarcasm.) “The Shelter” is worth staying in merely for their phenomenal breakfast. Many hostels across Europe boast that breakfast is included in the hostel price, but this usually consists of cereal and toast (or baguettes in France). At The Shelter, you have a choice of a cold breakfast (cheese, rolls, and jam), a granola breakfast (with yoghurt and fruit) or a hot breakfast (changed every day—French toast, pancakes, etc.). Yumm-o.

We continued to be patrons of the New Europe tours, taking the free walking tour during the day on Saturday and the Red Light District tour that night. Our walking tour guide, Kevin, was an incredibly energetic, overly animated Boston native with shaggy red hair and a goatee. He sported a straw hat and blue blazer the entire tour, effectively turning himself into Vincent Van Gogh. After the tour, a group of us from the tour went out for authentic Dutch cuisine for lunch. Delectable.

On the Red Light District tour that evening, we explored the central prostitution district. Contrary to what you might think, this area is said to be the safest of the city. “If you don’t see a cop standing next to you,” our guide told us, “that’s probably because you’re standing next to an under-cover one.” Prostitution takes on three forms (all currently legal) in the Netherlands: windows, escorts, and brothels. The windows are what Amsterdam is known for. The girls rent display windows that line the streets, dress in very little clothing, and lure customers to come in for a visit. A new political party is in control of Amsterdam, and the times, they are a-changing. Our guide informed us that the number of windows is being cut every month, and that all windows will be gone by 2015. Prostitution will be illegal. Apparently the same thing is happening with the “coffee shops” that sell marijuana. While marijuana is in fact illegal here, it is tolerated. All coffee shops will also be gone by 2015. Amsterdam’s culture I witnessed in 2009 will be drastically different in 2015.

On Monday, Anna and I woke up early to beat the crowds at the Anne Frank House. The building is Otto Frank’s (Anne’s dad) old business. Well, it was his business until Nazi occupation forced him to put it in someone else’s name—a non-Jewish name. The warehouse is where Anne Frank, her mother, father, sister, and four others hid for two years during the war. Otto, living through the torment of Auschwitz, was the only surviving member of the eight who hid together. At his request, the annex remained unfurnished after they were discovered and everything was confiscated. The room was redecorated long enough to film a video, and models placed through the annex show what the rooms would have looked like furnished. Anne’s room still had the magazine pictures of the Hollywood actresses and English princesses Margaret and Elizabeth she pasted to the walls. One of Otto’s employees who helped hide the Franks also hid Anne’s diary and returned it to Otto after Anne’s death. He made his daughter’s dream of becoming a published author come true. He published her dairy!!! I really want to re-read it now; hopefully I’ll find and English bookstore in the next couple of cities.

We spent our final afternoon in Amsterdam wandering around the ugly art-deco Jewish quarter. I mentioned that this was the only section of Amsterdam damaged during the war, but it was not because of battle. During the exceptionally cold winter of 1944, the food was gone, and the residents of Amsterdam were freezing to death in their own homes. All the trees in the city center were cut down to burn for heat, leaving no choice but to tear down the vacated buildings of the Jewish quarter, using the wooden structures as firewood. The streets have been refurbished with the ugliest modern, brightly colored, and asymmetrical buildings you can imagine. It sticks out like a sore thumb, but I suppose it also sticks out a sore reminder of not-too-distant history.

Summary: Didn’t love Brussels. Loved, loved, loved Amsterdam.

Next stop: Copenhagen, Denmark.