The Last Full Day of My Trip

Here we are now, day 20 of my 21-day trip to Europe, and I find it very sad. I have seen, enjoyed, experienced so much, and believe me when I say I feel truly blessed to have the opportunity to explore so much of the world on my own terms. On this, my final full day in Amsterdam, Nick knocked at my door around 9:00 this morning to let me know that he was going to catch his train back to Brussels. He told me that as he got his bagel and coffee across the street, he had a sudden epiphany about my all-time favourite film, "The Wizard of Oz", and why it appeals to me so much. He said that in the film, the characters all long for something they already have but they don't know they have it: the Cowardly Lion for courage, the Tin Woodman for a heart, the Scarecrow for a brain. He says that there is an interesting parallel with my own life, where I am longing for courage and strength, but he says it is obvious to him and to all of my friends that I have ample supplies of this, and simply do not realize it. And that this realization should help me to deal with the anxiety I so often feel. After this short exchange, he leaned in to hug me, and told me because it was grey and rainy outside, I should roll over and catch some more sleep, which is exactly what I did.

When I finally got up, shaved, showered, got dressed, checked my e-mails, etc., I headed out with a definite purpose today: I wanted to visit the Van Gogh museum, just south of my lodgings. I got there around 1:00 p.m., and discovered that tickets were all sold out until 3:00 p.m., so I got myself a ticket for that time. I figured that in the meantime, I could maybe buy my postcards and fill them in, and then catch a bite to eat once it had been two hours since I had taken my medication. So I set out towards the city centre to find some postcards. Unfortunately, I was heading west, and lost a lot of time coming back to where I wanted to be. So much so, that by the time I got back, I only had a little more than an hour before the scheduled visit to the museum. So, I stopped at a corner store and got some postcards and some stamps, then I made my way to Wok to Walk for another helping of the noodles I had yesterday, but this time with pineapple chunks. Delicious, and filling.

Even though I had a ticket for three o'clock, I had to wait in a long line-up of people who had 3:00 p.m. tickets, and then an equally long line-up to check in my umbrella, which I could not take in with me. I finally was looking at the first of Van Gogh's artwork about 30 minutes later than I expected, but it was all good. It was exciting to see so many of the artist's masterpieces, and it was thrilling to be able to take pictures of them. The highlights were the numerous self-portraits of Van Gogh, his sunflowers, and (my favourite) his bedroom. I tried taking advantage of the free wi-fi at the museum to call my parents and to call Martin, but no one could come to the phone just then.

I then bought a ticket for the tram (my 72-hour pass having since run out), and made my way to the north of the city to update my blog, which had fallen considerably behind. I have been slogging away now for the best part of 90 minutes, and am proud to report that as of now (7:30 p.m.), I am up to date. Now to go out for a good dinner.


 

An Inward Journey

I woke briefly from my slumbers around 4:00 a.m., when Nick came in, but simply rolled over and fell asleep again. When daylight came, I kept on sleeping, and by the time I rose at 11:00 (again!) Nick was already up and ready. So I showered and got ready myself, and we were able to leave the apartment around noon to continue our explorations.

I still had to wait a while before having a bite to eat, so we wandered the streets in Nick's typical flaneur way, which is a welcome change from the frantic pace I had set for myself these past two weeks. It was pretty much more of the same, with frequent picture opportunities around the city, particularly the amazing views of the canals and the irregularly-shaped houses. We made frequent stops for pastries and patat, like we did yesterday. Towards the middle of the afternoon, Nick led the way to the ferry to the north side of Amsterdam, and we disembarked near the museum of film, the Eye. We sat on a terrasse and ordered a late lunch: the veloute of lobster, and in my case, an egg and chive sandwich. As we ate, we kept up the very interesting discussion we started yesterday, which was a thorough examination of where I am in life right now. The focus was primarily on the anxiety I have been experiencing for a few years now, and how I can leave most of it behind to achieve a better level of functioning. Nick is the most empathetic person I know, and using his personal Socratic method, he leads me to valuable insights into my inner journey. As he so succinctly puts it, it is only when I travel that I can have the necessary distance to look at myself objectively and do some work on my thought patterns. I very much value his friendship, and even if at times his comments can seem cruel, I know he is just going for the shock effect, and there is always an important lesson to get from it. As we sat on the terrasse, he shot a series of pictures of me, using my camera, and I have to say, I really like the effect, and I can truly see how intensely pensive I can become.

There really isn't all that much to record, given the exceedingly personal nature of my inward journey today. In terms of the outer journey, the exploration of the city, it was, generally-speaking, more of the same. But it offered me the opportunity to take some great shots of the city (again), on this beautiful, partly sunny day. (We have been really lucky two days in a row, because Amsterdam is usually always overcast or rainy.) At one point, we entered a great CD store, with incredibly low prices, even by Canadian standards, and I was able to buy a CD/DVD combination I had been seeking for months now, to no avail: the Deluxe edition of the classic 1975 ABBA album, simply titled "ABBA". I was pleased to be able to finally get it for myself.

In the evening, we discovered a great place called Wok to Walk, and I got myself egg noodles with pork, chicken and shrimp, in sweet and sour sauce. It was really tasty and satisfying. It was the first of two for Nick, who was to return later that evening to get another order (it was just that good!) We made our way to the apartment, where Nick got his iPad out, and we played "Ticket to Ride" against one another, then played other games like Blokus and Yatzee! He asked if I could find any CDs to play on the apartment's DVD player, and the only CDs I could find were the ones I have bought during my travels. So, Nick had to endure Agnetha's album, followed by one disc from the "Eurovision" double disc set. Although we have similar tastes, our musical tastes are very different. But he didn't complain, and we were able to enjoy a quiet evening at the apartment. Nick was starting to fall asleep between turns of "Ticket to Ride", so we stopped playing around midnight and called it a night.  

A Relaxing Day

I have fallen behind in my blogging and must do my best to reconstruct the past two days. But first, I will resume from where I left off in my last post. As I had intended, I left the apartment and made my way to the Amsterdam ice bar. I was a little disappointed that the one in Copenhagen had closed, so when I discovered there was one here, I thought it might be fun to visit. I headed outside, where the skies were overcast, but the weather seemed pleasant enough, without an umbrella. As luck would have it, but the time I got off the tram, way out from my lodgings, the downpour began. It was a pretty steady rain that just wouldn't let up. So I wandered the streets of Amsterdam, completely lost in the maze of streets, seeking the elusive ice bar. I was getting really drenched. By the time I found it, I looked like I had emerged from one of the canals. I got inside, headed to the washroom to at least dry my face and head, and exchanged my very damp coupon for a discounted entry to the bar.

I have to say that I was a tad bit disappointed, probably because I had already experienced the novelty in Stockholm three years ago. All the same, the space didn't seem as nice as the one in Stockholm, but the temperature was considerably colder, at -10C. We were furnished with heavy parkas and ill-fitting leather mittens, and we were offered two drinks (instead of the one drink in Stockholm). Considering that I was still fretting about my antibiotics, I got the non-alcoholic tropical fruit juice for the first drink. We were then shown a pretty lame animated film in what was touted as being in 4D. It involved a squirrel falling down tunnels, and ran for more than 9 minutes. I quickly lost interest. After the film, we were offered our second drink, and I chose a sour puss shooter. Now speaking of shooters, it is a pretty common occurence in Amsterdam to see offers of 10 shooters for 10 euros in the bars. I think this is incredibly cheap!

I left the ice bar to reemerge into the driving rain, and slowly inched my way to the north of the city. I cannot believe that I have been here such a long time and had not yet seen the famed red-light district, with its well-known shop windows from which the prostitutes display their wares. But before I arrived there, I stopped for my next order of patat, and this time, it was a much more Dutch treat. The French fries came with four sauces: ketchup, curry sauce, satay sauce (a peanut butter base) and (my favourite) joopie sauce (a sort of sweet, tangy, yellow-coloured sauce). This time, I really enjoyed the experience, and washed it all down with a Coca Cola.

By 10:00 p.m., the display windows were starting to be lit up, and the shapely female prostitutes began to ply their trade. It was a very interesting sight, particularly studying the groups of drunken young men, especially groups of British guys in bachelor parties, as they approach the windows and asked how much it would cost for their turn. I have to say that the whole scene was somehow less seedy than I expected. I had somehow thought that here in Amsterdam, where prostitution is regulated, the women would be completely naked, but it was not the case. After having had my fill of this spectacle, I stopped off at a bar to get a (ho-hum) bottle of water. I did a bit of bar hopping, but there was nothing to write home about, so I left the red-light district and eventually made my way back home. I must have gone to bed around 2:00 a.m. (I am so not used to having Coca Cola, or any amount of caffeine, for that matter.

The next morning came around much too quickly, so that I opened my eyes and realized it was already past 11:00. I had not yet had such a late start to the day, because I had been pretty disciplined for much of my trip, in order to take advantage of being abroad to do the whole tourist thing. But my rising late in the day pretty much set the tone for the rest of the day to follow, as shall be seen shortly. I had planned to go to both the Sex museum and the Van Gogh museum this morning, before the arrival of my good friend Nick, who was scheduled to arrive in Amsterdam from Brussels at 2:00 p.m. But because I got up so late, I had to totally revise my plan. So I slowly got ready (after having played a few games of the addictive "Ticket to Ride" on my iPhone), and headed out into the city around 12:30 p.m. I walked around for a bit, taking in the sights, sounds and smells, before arriving at the monument in The Dam, where I spotted Nick. It was very good to see him. I met Nick at work back in 2006, and three years later, he accepted a job in Belgium, so I don't get to see him that often nowadays. I last saw him last summer when he, his wife and their toddler son visited Canada in August.

Nick asked me if I had eaten yet, and I had to explain that I was still waiting for 2:30 to come around, because it had still not been two hours since my antibiotics. So, we wandered around a bit and Nick, who knows the city like the back of his hand, since he comes up here fairly regularly, led the way to a great little Indonesian restaurant. Now since the Netherlands (or Holland) had colonized both Suriname and Indonesia, its cuisine was heavily influenced by the contributions of these former Dutch colonies, and I really wanted to try these foods, but had still not had a chance to sample them.

The restaurant was a great little place, and Nick and I got a very light bite to eat, a simple fried noodle dish, which I have to say was perfect. Nick was thinking we would keep it light, maybe nibble on munchies along the way, and save our appetites for a larger meal at another Indonesian restaurant he wanted to make a reservation at. Since the restaurant only opens at 9:00 p.m., I kew that I would miss the Eurovision finale tonight. But that was OK. So during the rest of the afternoon, Nick introduced me to his "flaneur" approach to travel. It was nice, not having to schedule anything or plan ahead of time, but just go with the flow. We stopped along the way to eat a pastry here (usually of the strawberry variety), or a patat there. As we walked along the canals, or followed the meandering streets, Nick was able to show me areas of the city I had not yet explored. And what was really nice is that he snatched my camera from me and took some pictures of me, which are sadly missing from my trip. He was a regular shutterbug, and I have to say he has a very good eye, because there are a number of shots of myself that I really like. We entered many book stores, DVD shops and CD boutiques. Because we have so many common interests, it was a pleasure travelling with him. At one point, he pointed out to me that this trip would end up being the most consecutive time we have ever hung out together. I hadn't thought of it that way, but realized it was true.

After having made a brief stop back at the apartment for Nick to drop off his travel bag and few purchases, we were ready to seek out the Indonesian restaurant where he had made a reservation for us. Oh my God, was the meal gargantuan and sublime! I don't think I have seen so much food since my experience with the smorgasbord onboard the Silja Serenade! Nick ordered the King's Feast for us, which started off with two spring rolls each. After this appetizer, the plates kept coming and coming, and being piled onto a special board that was set in the middle of our table: spicy braised beef in a hot pepper sauce, fried fish in a sweet sauce, vegetables and tofu, pickled cucumbers, breaded chicken in a sweet and sour sauce, steamed rice, Indonesian fried rice, breaded shrimp on a skewer, coconut shavings with almonds for the rice, crispy Indonesian rice chips... These are just off the top of my head. We absolutely gorged ourselves on the heaping mounds of food, and suddenly, like a light switch being turned on, we were full. I have never experienced fullness so suddenly, and I was absolutely stuffed. Unfortunately, there was still some food left on several of these plates. Suffice it to say that this was an incredibly delicious experience.

Too full to have any dessert, Nick and I left the restaurant and gradually headed on foot back to the apartment, where I crashed. My meal had been so heavy I didn't feel like doing much, but Nick declared around midnight that he had the urge to walk off his meal. By that time, I was completely worn out, so I told him I would turn in. So Nick departed on foot to continue his observation of human interaction in the red-light district, which he finds absolutely interesting from a sociological and an anthropological perspective. As I hardly ever engage in people-watching, this wasn't of much interest to me, and was happy enough to be able to retire for the night.     

Cheese, Wooden Clogs and Windmills

After I left off last night, I decided to have an early dinner, so at 5:30 p.m. I stopped at a French fries stand. I was hoping to have a traditional patat, homecut French fries served with a variety of Dutch-created dipping sauces. The fries were very good, but the only sauces I got were mayonnaise and ketchup, so not exactly exciting. I will have to try again and get the peanut butter sauce or the curry sauce.

A word on the weather I have had so far on my vacation. I really can't complain. In fact, after more than two weeks, yesterday was the first day when it rained. The rest of the time, it has been sunny, or cloudy at most. It was very cold in Helsinki and I was glad I had my leather jacket with me. When I got to Stockholm, the mercury soared to the low 20Cs, and I could walk very comfortably in my sleeveless shirts. As soon as I got to Copenhagen, the jacket came on again, and I am still wearing it here in Amsterdam. Even if it rained yesterday, I was fine with the umbrella Claire and Yael provided me with in the apartment.

I got to the apartment around 6:30 p.m., and just relaxed for a while. While I was checking out my text messages and e-mails, I got a text message from Hans in Stockholm to let me know that the second semi-finals of the Eurovision Song Contest would be on at 9:00 p.m. last night, so I immediately knew what I was going to do with my evening. It was fun watching all of the performances, especially the official Romanian entry that always makes me laugh with his falsetto tones. I still think that Denmark deserves the win, as far as I am concerned. The only annoyance was that the Eurovision broadcast was dubbed in Dutch and I couldn't understand a word.

I suppose it was because I had had that caffeine in the Coca Cola at dinner, but I didn't feel like going to bed until well after 1:00 a.m., even if I knew I had an early start for the tour of the Netherlands this morning. Fortunately, I discovered how to set the alarm on my iPhone, so I set it for 7:00 a.m. As luck would have it, I didn't need it at all and woke up on my own shortly before 7:00.

I showered, got dressed and hopped the tram at the Leidsestraat stop. I made my way to the Central station, from which I could walk to the tour agency on Damrak, from where the bus tour would be departing. Despite being told yesterday that the trip by tram would take 20 minutes at most, I was at the Central station within a matter of minutes, and had plenty of time when I got to the bus around 8:30. The bus was almost full, and we left, as scheduled, at 9:00 a.m.

Our first stop this morning was the small town of Volendam, where we would tour a traditional cheese-making factory. We made our way north of Amsterdam, and within minutes of leaving the outskirts of the city, we were in the middle of the beautiful Dutch countryside. It was so incredibly flat, and our guide informed us that much of the country is below sea-level, in some cases, as much as 7 meters below. Everywhere I looked, I saw lush green fields, a maze of canals running through them, and either sheep or cows out to pasture. I took quite a few photographs. We got to Volendam, where we were given a demonstration of the centuries-old process of making different kinds of Dutch cheese, from the milk obtained from cows, goats and even sheep. I was given the chance to taste cheese made out of sheep's milk, and it was nice and mild. We were told the Dutch like to have their cheese with dipping sauces, so we tried a variety of them. I tried the Dijon mustard, the Dijon mustard with fine herbs, the apple and cinnamon jam, the orange marmalade, all of them delicious. At the same time, I was trying to nibble as little as possible, because I had just taken my antibiotic and had to have it on an empty stomach for two hours. But I did not want to let this chance go by without sampling authentic Dutch cheese.

Around 10:30 a.m., we were led to our waiting boat, and we began our passage to the former island of Marken, which used to be an important fishing village. However, the ingenious Dutch managed to build dykes and levees to link the island to the mainland, and in so doing, they created a lake from the sea. This lake consists entirely of fresh water, so no fish can thrive in this environment. Consequently, the village has turned to tourism for its main support. Also, many residents have now opted to work in the neighbouring city of Amsterdam, so they commute to and from their picturesque little piece of heaven. The village was very quaint, and it had several pleasure boats moored along the coast. The reason for our stop here was to visit a traditional wooden clog maker. We were also given a thorough demonstration of how wooden clogs are sculpted primarily from poplar (but also from willow), because this wood is very malleable and ideal for carving, yet after 4 weeks' time, it becomes as hard and as water-proof as rock. Wooden clogs are still worn in some parts of the Netherlands, and the man who made a wooden clog before our very eyes even wore a pair as he worked.

It was at this point that I noticed the young dark-skinned man who elected to sit next to me on the bus. He definitely seemed interested in me, and usually kept fairly close to me whenever the group moved. We began a conversation, and I learned that he is here on a two-day vacation, after having been here for work. He works in the fashion industry in Dubai, so he is not used to this type of weather and shivered in the cold, damp air of this former fishing village. We continued chatting on the bus, in between the guide's continued commentary on the Dutch countryside. I learned that he was born in Mumbai, India, and has lived in seven different cities over the past 20 years. His work in the fashion industry brings him to travel to different cities in the world, on average 20 days a month.

We arrived in the little village of Zaanse Schans around 12:30, and at this point, I was ravenous, because I had had nothing to eat yet. But my priority was to visit the windmills first, and time permitting during our 50-minute stop, I would have a bite to eat. There were at least seven windmills dotting the landscape, and I took A LOT of pictures. I was even given the opportunity to pay my 3 euros for entrance into a windmill, and climb the steep, precarious steps of the three separate staircases leading to the top of the structure. I could climb out of that space and take photographs of the landscape and of the occasional blade that rotated before our eyes. Having seen what I had come to see, I sought out some food. Unfortunately, there was very little available in the village in terms of restaurants, so I went to a small cafeteria tucked in a corner of the gift shop and got myself a sausage roll, a hotdog and a bottle of Coca Cola. It was definitely time for me to eat. The young man, whose name I had not yet learned, had his toasted cheese sandwich at my table, explaining that he too had skipped breakfast. He told me that he is a vegetarian. After having eaten, he and I rejoined our group (which included three obnoxious French women), and boarded our bus for the return to Amsterdam. All the time I spoke to this young man in his late thirties, I was left wondering whether he was really attracted to me, or if it was all my imagination, because I practically have no gaydar to speak of. Anyway, at 2:00 p.m. we arrived back in Amsterdam, where he was bound for another 5-hour bus tour of other Dutch sights/sites. So, he finally introduced himself as, I believe, Pooni, told me it was a pleasure to meet me, shaking my hand firmly and looking directly into my eyes. And thus we parted.

Anyway, at that point I took another tram back to my lodgings to deposit my purchases, and to relax in bed a bit. I am getting by on very little sleep (after all, I am on vacation), but it is really exhausting. I checked my Facebook, text messages and e-mails, then played a few video games on my iPhone. I finally decided at 4:00 p.m. that it was time for me to head out in search of an Internet cafe to update my blog. I took the tram back to the Central station and -- surprisingly for me -- managed to find the same Internet cafe I was in yesterday. So, that pretty much sums up where I am now. Tonight, I intend to go to the ice bar for a drink, and I keep telling myself that a single drink should not interfere with my antibiotics. But before then, I will have dinner.        

Museum Musings

I woke up on my own at 7:00 a.m. this morning. This was quite the feat, because I had only gotten to bed around 1:30, after having read the news that the Librarian and Archivist of Canada suddenly resigned his position yesterday afternoon, apparently over allegations of improper spending.

I got up and got ready to face the day. My main goal this morning was to make it to the Anne Frank museum, which is located in the house the Frank family hid in during the Second World War. It is notoriously difficult to visit, because there are always long, long line-ups of people who want to get in, so my plan was to get there early. I arrived at the museum at 8:00, and realized that it only opened at 9:00. But it worked out well, because I ended up being the first in line. And that line ended up being extremely long by the time we were allowed to enter the museum.

I have to say that the museum was a lot harder to visit than I had imagined. We got to see the authentic bookcase that was used as a door to the secret annex where the Frank family hid from the Nazis all those years ago. There were original artifacts, photographs and film footage that made the whole horrible story so real. I felt kind of numb, on the verge of tears the entire time I was in the house. Before going in, I jokingly thought I would put on my Facebook page that I had visited the Anne Frank house, and somehow managed to avoid getting Bieber fever (an allusion to a terrible comment Justin Bieber made only a few weeks ago, that if Anne Frank were still living, she would be a Belieber, which was in exceedingly poor taste). But even making that comment on Facebook after having visited the museum seemed so wrong. It took a couple of hours for me to regain some perspective. As I signed the guest book, I noticed that the couple who had signed immediately before me were from Moncton, New Brunswick.

As I was scheduled to take my antibiotic at 10:30 a.m., and I cannot have any food in my stomach two hours before or after taking it, I was still fasting as I made my way to the Rijksmuseum, the Dutch State Museum. I got to see and photograph some very famous paintings by Dutch masters: Vermeer's Milkmaid, Rembrandt's Jewish Bride, and his Night Watch Room, and a self-portrait by Van Gogh. By 1:40 p.m., I was losing steam, partly because I had not slept long last night, but especially because I had not eaten yet. So I exited the museum and got a lemon muffin for starters. From there, I made my way to a small diner, where I sampled 8 different Dutch fried foods, eaten either with mustard or with sweet and sour sauce. These included fried cheese fingers, deep-fried meatballs, fried minced meat snacks, spicy spring rolls, cheese snacks, crispy chicken bites, springrolls filled with duck, and finally, bitterballen, the one I had identified at home as something I wanted to try. I think it was the first time on my trip that I tasted a new food that I did not care for. The bitterballen had a deep fried crunch to it, but then you bite into a paste of nondescript meat. Not to my liking. I washed everything down with a no-alcohol Bavaria beer. There was a bit of a hassle paying my bill because the diner does not accept credit cards and I only had 5 euros on me. So, I had to leave my driver's license with them in order to go get some cash from the debit machine. In the end, everything worked out fine, and I now have euros in my wallet.

My next stop was at a record shop, on my way to the north end of the city. And I was pretty pleased to find and buy the Eurovision double-CD, a great souvenir of my trip to Malmo. From there, I kept north, hoping to find the spot from where my tour of Holland leaves tomorrow morning. I finally found it, but it is a fair distance from my apartment, probably a 40 minute walk. If I need to be here tomorrow morning by 8:30 a.m. for our 9 o'clock departure, I will need to find a way to get there quickly. The lady at the desk suggested I take the tram, which will still take about 20 minutes. I stopped off at a little cafe where I got a delicious appletartje, a sort of apple and raisin square, which was amazing. The cashier there was able to direct me to this Internet cafe, where I have finally updated my blog. It is now 5:30 p.m., and I am about to decide what to do next. I hope to make it an early night, because I want to be ready for an early start tomorrow.

Final Destination: Amsterdam

I heard Tinna leave the house this morning at 7:30, which woke me up. So I got up and got ready to leave Copenhagen. I shaved, showered, got dressed and saw that Emil was still at home, so I asked him if I could borrow his laptop again so that I could blog. I really hope that the next time I travel to Europe I will have a laptop of my own to blog with. It has been difficult keeping my blog without one: in Helsinki, I had to try to use the only available computer in the hotel; in Stockholm, I was always heading to the 7-Eleven; in Copenhagen, I had to borrow Emil and Tinna's. Not the best...

After having finished updating my blog, and saying goodbye to Emil, who left for work, I started getting all of my stuff ready for my impending departure. But before leaving the premises for good, I ventured out and got two bouquets of roses, to surprise my hosts: a dozen orange roses and a dozen pink roses (together, they were only about 20 dollars Canadian). I really wanted to make this small gesture to thank them for taking care of me when I fell ill. I came back to the house, signed their guest book, placed the open guest book with my message on the kitchen counter, next to the roses, and deposited my key on my bedroom dresser. Although I cannot say that I really enjoyed my time in Copenhagen, I will forever be grateful to Emil and Tinna for being so warm, caring and genuine.

I got a banana and a bottle of water at the 7-Eleven, and hopped a bus that took me to Norreport. From there, I was able to take the subway directly to the airport, where I arrived around 1:40 p.m. My flight was not scheduled to depart for a few hours, but this gave me time to scout the airport for lunch and for additional souvenirs. I got my Dad another gift here, and bought myself a Eurovision 2013 scarf that I can use for decoration at home. I was hoping to get my hands on the Eurovision CD, because it would be a good memory of my night in Malmo, but I was unable to find one. Perhaps in Amsterdam... In the meantime, I had lunch at the airport: two more smorrebrod (of the shrimp and egg variety), and an alcohol-free Tuborg. My meal was sublime, but, as usual in Denmark, expensive. Roughly 25 dollars for lunch. Earlier, when I was at the 7-Eleven, I noticed they had Haagen Dasz ice cream. I always think that at 7 dollars for a tub at home, it is kind of pricy. But here in Copenhagen, the same tub sells for 20 dollars. Suffice it to say I did not get any.

My flight departed as scheduled at 3:20 p.m. It was only a short 80 minute flight to Amsterdam, so I passed the time by reading a chapter in the Benny Andersson biography, and by napping. We got in to Amsterdam on schedule. At the airport, I accidentally exited the arrivals area without having retrieved my luggage: I thought the carrousel was located beyond the set of doors. Fortunately, they let me in again to get my suitcase, which by this time, was one of only two pieces of luggage going around and around.

I inquired at the tourist information office and got a map to the city. I also bought my ticket for an excursion into the Dutch countryside, to see the real Holland. I bought my ticket for Friday, so that way, my weekend will be free for when my friend Nick comes up from Brussels to see me. Incidentally, it is his birthday tomorrow.

I took the bus from the airport directly to Leidseplein, near the site of my new lodgings on Max Eweplein. I had told the owner of the apartment I rented that, erring on the side of caution, I would arrive at the flat at 7:00 p.m. to meet with her and to get the keys. I got there around 6:15, with plenty of time to spare, so I sat at the nearby Hard Rock Cafe, where I was able to take advantage of their free wi-fi (only after I had been asked to like their site on my Facebook page).

At 7:00 p.m., I was greeted at the door of the flat by Yael, whom I am assuming is the girlfriend of Claire, who owns the apartment. Yael let me inside and gave me a tour of the amazing two-bedroom apartment I have rented. It is located in a very nice neighbourhood, and from the little I have seen of Amsterdam, I like the city way better than Copenhagen already. Then came the issue of payment. Claire and Yael had requested that I make a cash payment for the apartment, in addition to the 10% down-payment I had made when I booked the flat. I had been very uneasy with the whole idea of carrying 700 euros (about 1000 dollars) cash with me in a travel belt for two weeks, and I was still a little uneasy about making this payment without a receipt. But that's me, always nervous. Anyway, Yael told me she would send me an e-mail message when she got in, stating that the payment had been made in full. She kept to her word and sent me that e-mail confirmation later in the evening.

I was getting ready to go out and grab dinner around 8:00 p.m., when I tried unlocking the front door to get back in to the flat. Try as I may, I could not get the door to open. I wondered whether the key simply did not work. I called Claire on my iPhone, and asked her if there was a trick to opening the door. She said that she could come over whenever I wanted, just to see what the problem is. So, I told her I was just on my way to get dinner, and she suggested she come over at 9:30, which I agreed to. I had my dinner at a nice little restaurant that promised traditional Dutch fare. The waiter recommended I have the Hutspot met een Sukadelapje (Carrot and onion with tender beef), which was served with a mound of mashed potatoes and gravy. Was it ever good! And for dessert, I tried a Dutch delicacy I was hoping to try when I was here in the Netherlands, poffertjes met roomboter, poedersuiker en vanille-ijs (Poffertjes with butter, powdered sugar and vanilla ice cream). The poffertjes are minuscule, thumb-sized pancakes. They taste great with the powdered sugar and ice cream. I quickly cleaned my bowl.

When Claire showed up at 9:30, I was really ashamed to see that the problem was that I had to pull on the door handle to get the key to make that last little click, in order to open the door. Claire was good-natured about the whole thing, and said there was no problem at all. Furthermore, she said if I needed any other assistance, I would just need to call her and she would be there shortly, as she lives nearby. I was glad that that was sorted out, so I thanked her and walked a bit in Amsterdam to familiarise myself with my new surroundings.   

Hamlet Hauntings and Eurovision Euphoria

Let me start today's post by mentioning that in my last post, I wanted to go have that celebratory drink at the ice bar in Copenhagen. I had been to the ice bar in Stockholm in 2010 and really enjoyed my experience there, so I figured I would visit the one in Denmark while I was here. After a lengthy search to find Hotel 27, where the ice bar was once located, I was told that it just closed last December. That's how I ended up searching for another venue for that drink.

I started my day around 9:00 a.m. this morning, when I got up, got ready and made my way to the train station by bus. Since I had bought myself the Øresund rundt ticket yesterday, I was eager to make my way to Helsingør, Helsingborg, Malmö and back to Copenhagen again. Because I started my antibiotics last night, I figured I would get some bananas to help with my digestion, as well as a few croissants. I have to wait two hours after taking them before I can eat, so I was hungry until I could finally have breakfast around 11:00. I boarded my train around that time and was able to get into Helsingør, Denmark, just before noon.

Helsingør is best remembered as the setting for William Shakespeare's play "Hamlet", although in his work, he refers to the place as Elsinore. The Kronborg castle in Helsingør is the inspiration for the setting of the play. Just in front of the Helsingør train station are two statues depicting Hamlet and Ophelia. I slowly made my way from the train station to the castle, which was visible from the station. When I arrived, I was able to confirm that the visit of the castle was free with my Copenhagen card. I made my way past the gift shop, with its multitude of Shakespearian souvenirs, and began my visit of the royal apartments. It is here that I learned that the original castle was built in the 15th century, to defend Denmark from the frequent Swedish attacks. Helsingør became a major player in the Baltic area, and all of the foreign ships that passed through the Øresund strait had to pay for their passage, thus enriching the Danish state.

The royal apartments consisted of several huge rooms, including the reception room, the king and queen's bed chambers, the ball room, and the latrines. Helsingør remained a Danish possession for much of its existence, although the Swedes did manage to take it in the 1600s and held it for two years before departing, taking a huge plunder with them, including the massive sculpture that once adorned the fountain in the courtyard. In the 19th century, the castle was transferred into a military barracks, and served this purpose until well into the 20th century. From 1940 to 1945, during the Nazi occupation, the Germans held Kronborg and used it as a military base to control the entrance to the Baltic Sea.

After having toured the royal apartments, I got to the entrance of the underground casements at 1:00 p.m., just in time to begin a guided tour. Our guide was a young woman with a think Danish accent. She began the tour by telling us the legend of the Danish king who sleeps in the casements, under the castle, and whose likeness a large statue depicts. Legend has it that the king is merely sleeping, but when he wakes again, there will be a terrible war with torrents of blood. From the statue, we made our descent into the casements proper. There was very little lighting here, and our guide had her flashlight with her to guide us into the inner depths of the casements. The air was cold and damp here, a mere 6C, and in the dim light we could see our breath. Our guide told us there is evidence there once was a prison here, and when the casements served as training quarters for the military, soldiers were routinely beaten. I took several photographs of the casements with my camera set at night time. I took pictures of the gloomy, unlit rooms, perhaps inspired by the television show "Ghost Adventures". I have not heard of any tales that the castle is haunted (although the ghost of Hamlet's murdered father does appear in the play), but when I looked at the photographs I had taken, I was really surprised to see that in nearly all of the shots, there are glowing orbs of light, just like in that television show. And even more startling is one shot I took of what was a completely dark underground room: on my photograph, at least in my eye, there appears to be a partial apparition of a human face on two adjacent walls. I see the right-hand side of a face on the wall, complete with hairline, eyebrow, eye and bridge of a nose. The left hand side of the face is missing, but on the right of this mysterious face, I spot a left eye. I cannot wait to show this photograph to friends.

We emerged from the casements, and our guide told us she was next going to give a tour of the royal apartments. As I had just seen them, I left the tour then and made my way to tour the castle chapel. I have to say that my visit to the Kronborg castle exceeded all of my expectations, and I cannot wait to read "Hamlet" again. I bought two post cards and stamps at the gift shop so that I can send them to my parents and to my friend Martin.

I returned to the train station around 2:30 p.m. I could have stayed longer in Helsingør, but I wanted to give myself plenty of time to visit the other sights on my trip around the Øresund strait. I mailed my postcards at the train station, and promptly found my way to the adjoining ferry terminal. The ferry links Helsingør, Denmark to Helsingborg, Sweden, and runs a few times an hour. A single trip is only 25 DKK (about 5 dollars Canadian), and the trip to and from is only 55 DKK (about 11 dollars). My way was of course included in my round-trip ticket.

On the ferry, I took out my ticket and presented it at the small cafe onboard. It entitled me to a 20% discount on a shrimp smørrebrød (open faced sandwich) and a beverage of my choice. I got the fantastic sandwich and an alcohol-free Carlsberg beer. I just had time to have my meal when they announced over the loud speaker that we would be arriving shortly. It isn't any wonder, because the strait is very narrow, we can clearly see the landscape across the water, and passage is a mere 20 minutes by ferry.

I got off the ferry and made my way to the tourist information centre. It was already 3:15 p.m. by then, and I wanted to make sure that I could see something of the city before boarding my train to Malmö. I spoke in Swedish with the attendant, and she provided me with a map of the city, and suggested I visit he church of Sankta Maria, originally built in the 1400s as a Roman Catholic Church, and then converted to a Lutheran church during the Reformation a century later. The very first song I heard after my visit of the Kronborg castle was here in Helsingborg, and it was "Tubular Bells", from "The Exorcist", which played loudly at an outdoor cafe as I passed by. I have to say it kind of creeped me out...

After seeing the Sankta Maria church, I made my way to the Kärnan, a large fortification set on a promontory, from which we have a great view of the city and the Danish coast across the strait. I stuck mainly to the area around Stortorget, Norra Storgatan and Södra Storgatan, and was rewarded with picturesque views of the very old houses along these streets. I tried unsuccessfully to get a soft ice cream cone, because I couldn't use my card at the stand and I wasn't carrying any Swedish currency. Just then, I remembered that when I registered my cards, I hadn't told them I was thinking of travelling to Sweden on this day, so I called my bank just to alert them to the fact that I had made a quick day-trip to Sweden, just to make sure they wouldn't cancel my cards, thinking they had been stolen.

I found my way to the train station and caught the 4:30 p.m. train to Malmö. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open at that point, what with the lack of sleep I have been getting, so I got my iPod out on the train and listened to the only Danish music I knew I had on there: "Roses Are Red" by Aqua. I also listened to some more Swedish music. Our train arrived in Malmö around 5:00 p.m. I was greeted at the train station by loud music, lots of posters for Eurovision, and fans from the different countries that are competing in the song competition this year, all dressed up in wacky clothes. Three Danish fans were dressed in Viking clothes, draped in the Danish flag. It was a little surreal and fun.

I was directed to the Folkets Park on Amiralsgatan, in the heart of Malmö. It is here that a large screen television had been set up in the theater to allow patrons to watch the first semi-finals tonight of the Eurovision Song Contest. In the meantime, I went out in search of Swedish food. But once again, without knowing the city, I despaired at finding any authentic Swedish food, and after about an hour's fruitless search, I settled on Cuban food on the grounds of the Folkets Park. The empanada I had was perfect, but it came served with a heaping mound of salad, the one food I am not tempted to have at all when I am not dieting. I made a valiant effort to eat some of the salad, but most of it remained untouched on my plate. Once again, the Swedish cost of living was hammered home to me: one Coca-Cola and the empanada and salad, roughly 25 dollars Canadian.

It was fun being in a traditional Folkets Park. In the late 60s and early 70s, all Swedish musical acts, including the Hep Stars, the Hotenanny Singers and even ABBA, toured and played these small park venues. I got a feel for what this was like. The small stage show that was set up in the Folkets Park here was intended to be entertainment before the live, sold-out show from the Malmö stadium was broadcast on the large screen. I managed to have that soft ice cream for dessert.

I entered the main pavilion, housed in a Moroccan-inspired building, and took advantage of their free wi-fi to check my Facebook account and text messages. And shortly before 9:00 p.m., I confirmed that there was no charge for the large screen show, and entered the theatre. It was packed with fans from the various countries that are competing in this year's contest. They all had their country's flags, and came prepared to cheer for their home country. The show started with Swedish singer Loreen, who sang last year's winning song, "Euphoria". Because Sweden won last year, they earned the right to host this year's contest, hence Malmö being the host city. Tonight's competition is the first semi-final, where 16 competing artists from the first 16 countries are competing for the 10 available slots. Later this week, the rest of the countries will compete for the last available slots, and at the finale, those who have made it that far will compete for the title of the winner of the 2013 Eurovision song contest. I stayed for all 16 performances, and I believe that of the 16, Denmark made the most lasting impression for me. I think they have a solid chance this year.

I left the Folkets Park around 10:00 p.m., and made my way unsurely to the train station to the north of the city. I got there just as the next train to Copenhagen was set to leave around 11:00, so I hopped on and got safely back to Denmark around a half-hour later. It was another half-hour until the bus dropped me off at my lodgings. I was totally exhausted from my travels today, but really enjoyed myself.

A quick note before I end this post: Copenhagen is really well laid out, with separate lanes for motorists, for bicyclers and for pedestrians. I think Ottawa could learn a lesson or two from the Danes about urban planning!