Holland

  Last year's trip was to Spain; this year it's Italy.  We started our overseas travels several years ago with a trip around Ireland, to pay respects to my ancestors. The big discovery was our residence in North America has changed us out of recognition to the locals. 

    We went to both Sweden and Scotland to do the same for Teresa's antecedents. We added France, Greece, and England. It was good to have the patches from those places sewn onto our backpacks. 

  But what was the reason for traveling after all? To have adventures. I want to share my adventures but people back home can only listen to so much. I appreciate that. Therefore my travels become fodder for this blog. 

People would always ask if we'd been to Italy and we'd have to say, sadly, no. This spring our son Matt's wife Heather took their son Luke on a tour of Venice, Florence, and Rome for his graduation trip. Heather said this would be a good way for us to see chunk of Italy everyone had heard of.

  We signed up for a mid-November tour and decided to tack on Amsterdam before the Italy tour. We had always wanted to visit the Netherlands. I admired the Dutch for their tolerance for those with unorthodox views back when the rest of Europe was burning dissenters at the stake.

  The flight to Europe reminded me why I'm done going to Europe. Flights to Europe always take place in the evening when I'm normally getting ready for bed. Only my feet are able to fall asleep. My poor brain enters a dantesque coma in which a stream of demons slam the doors of purgatorial toilets.

  A few days before our trip we read about violent protests in Amsterdam having to do with a Palestinian flag being torn down, Israeli football fans getting beat up, and a taxi set on fire. It seems history is to blame. The only sign of the disruption when we got there was a movie marquee that read "Where's the peace and understanding?"

  Walking out of the Amsterdam airport terminal leads directly into the train station to downtown Amsterdam. Buying tickets was easy. No one checks your ticket. You scan it as you walk to your platform. If an inspector checks your ticket, it better show that it was scanned. 

  From the central station we took a tram to our hotel. In addition to the driver there's someone in the center of the two-car tram to sell tickets and give information. There's lots of trams running around and many more bicycles. I felt like the bikes were more dangerous to pedestrians, plus bikes have the right of way. We managed to stay alert and avoid close calls, but you can’t daydream as you walk around like you can in Roseau. 

  Museums have lost their charm for me. I'm like a soaked sponge and can't absorb any more, but we became Van Gogh junkies while traveling around Provence a few years ago and felt we owed it to our man to visit his Mother Church in Amsterdam. 

  The guide book advised getting in early before the tour busses arrive. I'd also advise starting on the middle floor where Van Gogh’s most famous paintings are located.  The lower floors feature artists who influenced Van Gogh. By the time we got to the sunflowers the crowds had caught up with us. 

  The gift shop is my favorite part of any museum. It's a synopsis of the whole place. The thrill won't be any greater standing on my tiptoes for a peek of a masterpiece over the heads of the other gawkers.

  The day before, we had toured the canals for an hour in a long glass roofed boat. That was entertaining. Next day we took the train a few miles north to the windmill village.  That was also a good time killer. 

  The food in Amsterdam was hearty, at least at the places where we ate.  It's a great city for walking around in and seeing things you won't see at home, e.g. coffee shops that sell marijuana rather than coffee. 

  After three days in Amsterdam we took a short flight to Venice to start our official tour of Italy. Ciao for now. 

The Art Lovers by Chair Man Jogh