278. When Life Became “The Amazing Race”

The task was simple. Fly from Amsterdam to London, pick up campervan, drive through Euro-tunnel to France, begin awesome camping adventure around Europe.

Well, that turned out to be the biggest false assumption of summer. Within about 5 minutes of setting off on this adventure, it had began to be a very difficult mission, and began to resemble an episode of “The Amazing Race.”

The first hurdle was getting to the airport at 5am. As we left with all our packs, waddling down to the tram stop, we waited a wee while for the tram that was supposed to come by to take us to an airport train, but anxiety levels were on the increase. With no trams in sight, it was time for a quick check of travel times, in which we decided our plans were probably far too ambitious and we weren’t likely to make it to the airport. Time for a Detour, or maybe a fast forward, depending on how you look at it! We opted to grab a taxi, though the next hurdle was finding one at 5am on a weekday in the suburbs! We spotted a hotel down the road and asked the concierge to call us one. I don’t think he saw us walking in the door so probably assumed we were staying there, which proved handy, as he started carrying our bags around! When the taxi driver arrived, he was definitely on the conservative side with his estimate of the distance to the airport, which made for an anxious ride, but in the end we made it just in time, and the price was less than that of a new flight.

Once at the airport, a bit of a “road block” as he dropped us in completely the wrong place! A bit of sprinting around like headless chickens later we managed to get to our check-in desk in the nick of time.

Once arriving in London (with a major grilling at customs, despite heading back out of the country less than 24 hours later!), the next task was navigating through the underground system and finding the rental company. The underground was a total mess, as they completed the last of the pre-olympics works. The timetables were pretty much no help at all, and we took forever, getting beached at a few stations to finally get where we wanted to go. Once we eventually got to the right station, we were really in the middle of nowhere. Once again waddling around with all our bags,  trying to find a street sign so we could correctly orientate our terrible map!

Finally, around midday, we found the tiny, barely marked office of ‘Spaceships UK’ and went through a very long process of paperwork, and probably really annoyed the poor man as we asked a million questions and got them to show us everything from how to set up all the awnings etc to how to check the oil. Better safe than sorry! To be fair, they also left as waiting as they were trying to add a whole bunch of stickers with their logo etc to the van and slogans like “traveller’s adventures.” We had a bit of a debate with them over that, saying “Don’t you think that kind of screams out ‘rob me I’m a tourist’?” As they assured us it would be fine, we eventually got them to cut back on some of the tacky branding. We later learned we probably should have been a bit more adamant on that front…

Next stop, driving. As I pulled out of the carpark and set off, it was incredibly stressful – who would have thought that only 6 months of driving on the right side of the road would cause me to have to think twice about everything when driving on the left! So we switched drivers – Claire would drive on the left, and I’d take over when we were on the right in France!

What should have been a simple drive down to Dover also turned out to be quite complex! When I’d looked up prices to get over to France, the Eurotunnel and ferry were about the same, so we opted for the tunnel as it was faster. After plugging it into the GPS, we then discovered she was pretty free and easy with her direction giving, often telling us to turn left after we’d gone past etc. We got there in the end, only to find out that even though it is a tunnel, you actually have to book in a time to drive across and purchase tickets in advance, or they go up in price. Who would have thought? Though of course it took a long time to work this out, as we pulled up to a whole bunch of unmanned gates that did everything electronically. After literally driving around in circles we managed to find one where we could press a button and ask for help, and a woman appeared from God knows where. After informing us of the rules, she then told us it would cost almost £250 to drive through the tunnel and the next opening wasn’t for another few hours! Ummm no thanks.

So we opted to take the detour down to the ferry, and hope we could get on one that night. As we neared the town of Dover and the harbour, there were actual roadblock and detour signs everywhere, and the odd one that simply said “Event !” We had no idea what was going on, but we couldn’t get to the ferry. We decided to head toward the town, find a petrol station and ask what was going on. As we got closer there was a lot more sign-age and advertising and we realised that the olympic torch was arriving off the ferry, touching down in the UK for the first time. Well we could hardly be annoyed at being held up if it meant we had the opportunity to see the Olympic torch! So we parked up and headed in to town to join the crowds and check it out. It was about 6pm by this stage.

Once all the crowds dispersed, we head to the harbour and tried to investigate the ferry. We definitely had some deja vu as we drove around a massive complex, following arrows and lanes and signs, having to go through what I like to call “car customs” where they looked around with torches to make sure we weren’t smuggling drugs or illegal immigrants, walked through a huge empty office complex and finally found a little wee building before we could even enquire about tickets, let alone get on a ferry. Luckily the different companies had desks in the same building, and we managed to get a ticket to the 9pm ferry. The whole day had been cold, miserable and rainy, we’d been up since 5am, and finally at 11pm we touched down on French soil!

The next problem, which we’d been a bit preoccupied to work out, was where to park up and sleep. We decided to head into the town centre of Calais, and we found a big, well lit car-park  Problem was there were some bars around, and we didn’t fancy the safety factor of trying to sleep where there were drunks about! There was some sign-age to a campsite/campervan park so we headed there and at last we could relax. Definitely made us think a bit of advanced planning of where to actually sleep each night was a very good idea!

All in all a marathon of a day, including 3 countries, 4 cities, a taxi ride, a flight, 5 trains, and a ferry ride. I just wish there was a prize! Getting a photo with the Olympic torch was a good bonus though I suppose…

275. Doors and Windows of Amsterdam

Before I left New Zealand, a family friend of mine showed me a book she had made of photos she had collected of “Doors and Windows of Europe.” I guess it must have made quite the impact as it really made me notice and appreciate the charm and individuality found in shuttered windows with peeling paint, or elaborately decorated medieval doors, as spotted all over the continent.

I think there’s a few reasons I find them so charming. First, I find the old buildings that characterise each location beautiful, and a real novelty when you come from a very young country. Second, every window or doorway offers a hint of who might be behind it – from pot plants on a balcony to clothes lines between buildings – and each has its own individual character.

In Amsterdam, I really loved walking through the centre of town, along the canals and admiring all the buildings – especially as, unlike much of Europe, the adjoining buildings all had their own individual style as opposed to being one giant Coronation Street block. The same was true for the details of the buildings. So here’s a collection of photos of spots I found interesting, beautiful or unique, including Rembrandt’s house (below) and some really great, well designed shop fronts.

274. Vondelpark

In the middle of Amsterdam is a huge and absolutely magnificent park, also known as Vondelpark. With a huge road around it full of joggers and cyclists getting some inner city exercise, lakes, clearings, and amazing (probably ridiculously expensive) houses on the waters edge, it was a beautiful spot to walk around.

What I really loved about it though, were the adult-sized playgrounds scattered throughout with lots of things to climb on and through and forget your age!

273. Weirdest Sign in the World?

What even is it trying to say? I don’t even have a comical caption for this bad boy.

Suggestions/explanations welcome.

270. Green Cheese

The Netherlands are famous for their delicious Gouda, and all through town there are marvelous cheese shops offering all kinds of special varieties. Most of them have samples too, which is handy because they seem to only sell wheels of cheese in large and extra large.

The most exotic version of Gouda I had tried before was with cumin seeds, so fairly standard. Much to my delight there were many more varieties on sale, especially a green one! The basil pesto Gouda was very delicious (not to mention novel, being green and all) and I most definitely would have bought some if a wheel of cheese wasn’t such an awkward thing to backpack around with.

269. Westerkerk – X-rated church?

It is pretty hard to miss the tower of Westerkerk in Amsterdam, and what better place to see some wonderful art, sculpture and my favourite bit – beautiful, ornate and unique organs, than in a church? A refreshing change comapared to packed museums with hefty entrance fees.

Whilst looking around the interior of Westerkerk, I noticed yet another example of the cities ‘XXX’ branding. Amsterdam is home to a number of world famous advertising and creative agencies, so I had assumed that the very well branded public services of the city were a by-product of that. The ‘XXX’ symbol is absolutely everywhere, and it looks like a relatively modern, simple yet effective logo. I had wondered a few times what it came from, the obvious initial link being to the red light district. When I spotted it built in to the chandeliers in this incredibly old church I thought there definitely HAD to be more to the story.

A little research revealed it is actually the Cross of St Andrew (as he was supposedly martyred on such a diagonal cross), and the Coat of Arms of Amsterdam contains three silver St Andrew’s crosses in the middle. In line with my original suspicions, however, the imagery now synonymous with three x’s does hail from Amsterdam – it used to be the only place you could legally buy pornography, which would arrive packaged with a ‘XXX’ to represent the city.

265. Dutch Stroopwafel

One does not simply go to Europe and not try all the different types of waffles. The variety they lay claim to in the Netherlands is the Stroopwafel – two very thin waffles held together with a caramel-y sauce. Delicious, though very sweet – best shared with at least one other person because they are pretty hard to finish!

This one was found in a series of food stalls just before the Van Gogh museum – perfect entertainment whilst waiting in the long lines to get in.

264. Van Gogh Museum

The Van Gogh Museum was probably one of my favourite art museums. Not only did the audioguide (definitely recommended) walk me through his life via his paintings, but the curators also had a wonderful collection of art that influenced him, among other special collections.

My favourite of Van Gogh’s works was Sunflowers, possibly because its vibrant colours really stood out compared to the opposite wall, which housed paintings from nearer to his death, as his mental illness was affecting him more and more (hint: they are kind of gloomy).

It was also interesting to note that he would never have been as famous as he is today, if it weren’t for his brother’s wife, who inherited his collection and boosted it to fame.

Another highlight of the museum was a collection of advertising prints from France in the late 1800s and early 1900s, as well as art featured on programmes from stage shows and the covers of sheet music.

All in all a great way to learn about Van Gogh’s life, as it was narrated through his art, as well as his influences and the art that was incorporated in to daily life at the time. Well worth a visit!

263. Anne Frank House

Having studied Anne Frank’s diary quite intently at school (read the book, done the play watched the movie) I was really looking forward to the opportunity to see the actual house.

In what was actually quite a moving story, Anne Frank’s father, Otto, was the only one to survive after the family was eventually found and taken to the concentration camp. When he finally tracked down what had happened to each of his family members, rather than sell or destroy the house, he decided to preserve it as a reminder to all of what happened and what should never happen again, as well as publishing Anne’s diaries, one of the few true, detailed and personal accounts of just how much the war affected the individual.

I actually found Anne Frank House to be a great deal more emotional and moving than any other WWII memorial, even visiting a concentration camp, and I think the difference is how incredibly detailed and personal the story is, told as you move through the various levels and rooms in the house, and including both the lead up to the families deciding to hide in the annex, and what became of them afterwards. There were also a number of displays of what life was like in Amsterdam at the time, and just why it was a better option for them to spend so long trapped in a small space, unable to move or even use the toilet during the day.

The book case hiding the entrance

There was one particular moment which really struck a chord for me. When looking at an original yellow star in a display cabinet, next to a sign saying “No Jews Allowed,” I realised that for most people, the intended response is “gosh that kind of treatment was so awful.” Unfortunately, for many, “was” is not the correct word. That very morning I had logged in to my Facebook page and seen an update from a friend of mine who the night before had been told “No Niggers Allowed” at the door of a bar in Aarhus. It made me so angry that some people still don’t seem to have learned any lessons, but the kind of people that would say something like that to him are probably the same people who would nod and agree that the holocaust was terrible and how could they treat people like that. Further to the problem, it seemed to overwhelming response from Danish friends in this scenario was “don’t worry about it, let it go.” I would like to chalk that response up to the fact that Danish culture is a lot less confrontational, rather than that our Danish friends don’t seem to think that it was really wrong for him to be treated that way. Thankfully though, the Mayor of Aarhus invited him round to apologise, and a lawyer in Copenhagen got wind of it and is pursing the matter pro bono. It still makes me sick that people continue to treat eachother that way for no good reason though.

Back to the original post, despite my mind being elsewhere on that particular day, I thought Anne Frank House was one of the greatest museums I have been to, and think that anyone who has the opportunity should definitely go there. As well as the house itself the museum afterwards was really goo. At the end there was a display of original records all of the Frank family’s attempts to immigrate to other countries, including a very harsh rejection letter from the USA, which basically said no you can’t come and don’t try and apply again.

This lead to Claire and I getting into a pretty in depth debate about immigration policies both at the time and today. Why wouldn’t the US just let people in? They could have saved so many people! I had hoped there was a good reason, for example, Hitler declaring the USA couldn’t take any immigrants or XYZ would happen, but after doing a bit of research there doesn’t seem to be any reason that I would say remotely justifies such harsh immigration policies at the time. One site even says they only let 21,000 refugees in from Europe (as in, the whole continent) in the lead up to WWII. It seems that quotas were actually reduced in the United States, and the best excuse they could come up with was that they were worried about harbouring German spies.

A.D. Morse wrote:

“In 1938 the Nazis burned every synagogue in the nation, shattered the windows of every Jewish establishment, hauled twenty-five thousand innocent people to concentration camps, and forced the Jews to pay 1,000,000,000 marks for the damage.”… “Five days later, at a White House press conference, a reporter asked the President ‘Would you recommend a relaxation of our immigration restrictions so that the Jewish refugees could be received in this country?’ ‘This is not in contemplation,’ replied the President. ‘We have the quota system’.”

Of course there were other countries who could have helped but didn’t, the US is just one example. It really makes you question why countries who had so much power to help, didn’t. And why countries today who have so much power to help others, still don’t. The UNHCR reported that the number of people forcibly displaced worldwide has reached 43.7m (June 2011). Surely there must be a way to relax immigration laws without hiding behind excuses like “we’ll lose our culture” and “they’ll take our jobs,” especially when you consider all of the industries in places throughout the world reporting shortages of workers. I would argue there must be a possibility for countries to cooperate and be able to match people who need a better life to industries that need more people, thereby boosting economies, rather than every country creating a million and one administrative hoops to jump through.

Claire and I striking a pose outside before entering into a giant political debate about immigration laws!

Once again going back to the museum itself, most definitely deserving of mention was an interactive display “Free2Choose” (presumably made for school groups, but we loved it) that played short clips/interviews and presented political-ethical dilemmas, which visitors could submit their views/vote yes or no to questions at the end, the results of which were collated to present which way the majority of visitors voted etc. Topics included banning the Burqa and raids on Hip Hop concerts to find illegal immigrants. I thought it was a really great way to bring the lessons you were learning and the sympathy generated through Anne Frank’s story, and give people real life examples of current human right’s issues – not every visitor was watching an a 2012 version of 1940’s behaviour affecting their friends.

262. The Red Light District

Teeming with seedy men… but you can hardly blame them for checking it out, if even girls like us are curious to wander through the area!

My first sight of the Red Light District was very much by accident, walking through town to find my accommodation in the middle of the day, I looked to my left and right there was a girl in an american flag bikini, but with a more brazillian style to it. Not just a night-time thing apparently.

Later on we thought we’d take a wander through and see what all the infamous fuss was about. There really are a lot of girls, how would you say it, on display? It also seemed there were two distinct types with nothing in between – really just awkwardly ugly ones, and ones with absolutely stunning bodies that could easily be poster girls for celebrity trainers like Tracey Anderson. They were quite impressive, really.

I managed to get a sneaky few photos, before being told that if their pimps catch you, you WILL get mugged. Oops, my bad.

I also learned that they are all unionised. Apparently they get paid a tonne, and over the years have negotiated really great working conditions (well, that’s subjective, given the essence of the job) and excellent pay rates. And by pay rates I mean larger cuts from their pimps.

It’s all a bit of a laugh walking through such a bizarre part of town, until of course you see a male walking through one of the doors next to those red lit windows. Then you kindof want to vom.

Wait, where’s the can can?