DAMSTER!dam

There was one thing I wanted out of a weekend in Amsterdam: PEANUT BUTTER. Believe it or not, the delectable spread is not a worldwide phenomenon, and Europeans often find us wacko for lamenting the tiny jars and ginormous prices in most countries. Not the Netherlands, though. They deliver. And they deliver right.

Our first act in the city was not peanut butter related, though. Our first act was Vincent van Gogh related. Now, I'm not a huge Fan Gogh, but the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam does a really nice job of chronologically presenting the works of the famous artist. I found it extremely interesting to watch the progression of his style and aesthetic as he advanced in his craft. There was also a really neat temporary exhibit of posters, flyers, and prints. Eye candy for girls who browse typography online in their free time. After the museum, we headed to a nearby grocery store. It was there, at that moment, that the world was set right again, all thanks to Calve Pindakaas and a Dutch woman who explained which lid color meant "crunchy" and which meant "smooth". And if that weren't enough, we also stumbled across muesli bread, arguably in the running for the most wonderful bread on this planet. Dense, moist, filled to the brim with dried fruits, nuts, and grains. Y'all, this bread is the stuff. It's so full of fruit that peanut butter sandwiches don't even need jelly - it's already built right into the bread. Amazing. Laden with our finds, we took a quick picture stop  by the I Amsterdam sign before settling down to a picnic* in Begijnhof Courtyard.

*Dear Mr. Steves, as a member of the Stevesian Society and a second degree Steves Scout, I believe I have earned my Picnicking Merit Badge, as shown by my several picnics in several countries. I await your approval and endorsement. Thank you and good day.

After our picnic we went on probably the worst bike tour in the world. Thanks a lot, Lee. The bikes didn't even have names. What's up with that? Our next destination totally made up for it, though. Never in a million years did I guess that I would one day stand in the Secret Annexe that housed Anne Frank and her family during the Nazi occupation, but that is exactly what happened. Talk about unbelievable. Not only do you get to walk through the annex, but pages of Anne's journals are on display, which is just unreal. Reading The Diary of a Young Girl is what started my journaling, which is what has inspired my writing style, started my blogging, and kept me relatively sane for a number of years. Unreal. For me, though, one of the most moving parts of the entire museum was a photograph of Otto Frank, taken in the attic some years after the war; written on his face is the somber, serene acceptance of knowing that he remains while all the others have gone. It's powerful.

Just around the corner from the museum is a Pancake Bakery where we stopped for dinner. "Pancakes" - these things are more pizza than pancake, and they have every topping, sweet or savory, imaginable. And the poffertjes! Holy smokes these little cushions of sugary buttery dough are delicious. Somehow we managed to waddle back to our hostel where I promptly fell asleep, forgoing the chance to tour the Red Light District with the rest of my homies. ~`~*#wYldChYld*~`~

On our second day in Amsterdam, we went to perhaps one of the best art museums I've been to. The Rijksmuseum is full of paintings from the Dutch Golden Age (and more, but due to construction only the masters are on display). Hals, Steegen, Rembrandt, Vermeer - all there. Man, those Dutchmen were incredible capturers of light and shadow. But the best part was the information that the museum provided. One the plates next to each painting, not only were the name and artist listed, but also a paragraph about the techniques used, how they worked to bring the desired effect, and ways to notice them in the painting. So cool! It makes people who know nothing about art feel as if they could carry on a conversation all about it. I've seen somewhere that "Italian art is made to study, Dutch art is made to enjoy", and I have to admit, enjoying art is a bit more my speed than studying it. So enjoy I did. Most exciting? Vermeer. Three paintings. Not many, except when you consider he only painted 34.


A canal tour and one more trip to the grocery store to stockpile peanut butter later, and we took our leave of the city. And there were no damster sightings, whatsoever.