I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane

This past August, Gordon and I had a wonderful holiday in the Netherlands with our lovely eight year old granddaughter, Ariana. Her presence added a beauty, a light, and a perspective we wouldn't otherwise have had. Gordon immigrated to Canada with his parents and two older sisters when he was nine years old. He had never been back to Holland since, so for him it was a pilgrimage of sorts, to his roots. These are the stories of our time there.

Lunch at the airport with Ariana's Mom and Dad before we leave.

In Calgary airport an excited, and slightly apprehensive, Ariana and Nana await our flight.

Our KLM jet.

Goodbye everyone, we'll see you in two weeks!

Our Apartment in Amsterdam

The outside of our apartment in Amsterdam.

Instead of staying in a hotel, for the first week we rented an apartment in a 17th century row house along the Bloemgracht (Flower canal) in Amsterdam. The house boasted twenty foot ceilings, beautiful chandeliers and wood sconces, wide windows overlooking the canal, a modern kitchen, and wood floors worn beautifully smooth and uneven with the years. The street breathed romance, like old songs and old books.

The canal in front of our apartment.

The Livingroom.

Diningroom.

The main Bedroom. The couch in the livingroom converted into a comfortable bed for Ariana.

Ceiling above the bed.

Kitchen.

Another kitchen view.

Ariana poses in the livingroom window.

The bridge over the canal just to the left of our apartment.

The Chimes of Westerkirk

(Ariana and I by Bloemgracht Canal.)

Our apartment was located so close to Anne Frank house that we could hear the chiming of the nearby Westerkirk every fifteen minutes, just as she had. In the diary she kept while in hiding, Anne wrote about finding the sound so very comforting and reassuring, and how it made her want to both cry and sing.

(Westerkirk, Amsterdam, built in 1620.)

The evening before we visited Anne Frank house, I told Ariana, Anne's story. She was very interested and asked many questions. The next day, as we waited for our turn to view the house, a woman near us reached over and gently touched Ariana's hair, "You know, I think you look a little like Anne", she said.

Once, this canal house on 263 Prinsengracht was the office of Otto Frank, Anne's father, for his spice business. Entering, I’m immediatly struck by the subdued atmosphere. Voices are low. It is very quiet, very solemn. I begin to imagine what it must have been like, living in this eternal dusk ... day in, day out; in constant fear of discovery. Poignant excerpts from Anne’s diary are written on the walls:

(Anne's actual diary, which she received for her 13th birthday.)

11 June 1942

"We will have to whisper and tread lightly during the day; otherwise the people in the warehouse might hear us."

19 November 1942

"I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn."

21 August 1943

"In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death."

In Anne's room we gaze silently at pictures and newspaper cuttings she had pasted on the wall almost seventy years ago: the princesses Elizabeth and Margaret, Ginger Rogers, Sonia Henie, Greta Garbo in Ninotchka. Nearby are the pencil marks on the wall, drawn by her father, noting her growth during her years in hiding. Ariana stands very still. I see tears start to trace her cheeks. I place my arms around her, draw her close to me. "It just wasn't fair, Nana. It just wasn't fair", she whispers.

Later that evening after tucking Ariana into bed with her prayers, I lay down beside her for a while. The silvery melodic bells of Westerkirk start to ring in the summer darkness. As the tones die out, Ariana says in a tender voice, "When I hear those bells, it's like Anne is speaking to me because she could hear them, too." I will never forget the hush and holiness of that moment.

(Ariana 8, beside the statue of Anne Frank outside the house where she wrote her diary, while hidden with her family for two and half years, 1942 - 1944.)

Discovering Dutch Food

For our first meal in Holland we went to a Dutch Pannecoek huis (Pancake House.) Ariana had poffertjes which are puffed mini-pancakes. They were smothered with whipped cream and chocolate sauce! Dutch pancakes are traditionally served with poedersuiker (powdered sugar), stroop (a sugar-syrup similar to treacle), and of course, butter.

Ariana's Poffertjes.

Papa's strawberry pancakes, to which he added whipped cream.

Nana chooses pancakes served with lemon, powdered sugar and stroop.

Ariana discovers MacDonalds, Dutch style ... the McKroket! ... and pronounces it yummy!

Thus begins Ariana's love affair with the traditional Dutch croquette which is comprised of either chopped beef or chicken stirred into a thick seasoned sauce and then allowed to cool. The mixture is molded into shape, dipped into beaten egg and rolled in bread crumbs, and then deep fried until golden brown.  This she asks for every day ... in restaurants, at street carts and even out of the wall! (A term Gordon started using as a child when his father would take him for a treat to the automat, which is a wall of self-serve ovens containing hot snacks.)

Papa loves croquettes too!

My traditional Dutch Croquettes served with chips and salad.

Ariana chooses a croquette from 'the wall'.

Papa picks a croquette from 'the wall' ... something he hasn't done since he was a little boy!

As we had a lovely, fully equipped kitchen in our apartment, we cooked and ate most of our breakfasts and dinners there. We shopped for fresh vegetables and fruit at outdoor market stalls, of which there are many. Daily we bought the most delicious strawberries and raspberries, blackberries, tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers. For meat, milk and eggs we usually went to the Albert Hejn, a local supermarket which was a five minute walk from our apartment. There was also a gorgeous bakery just down the street.

Ariana loved the Dutch hot chocolate! Here she enjoys it in a special cup at an outdoor cafe near the Rembrandt museum. As always it is served with whipped cream, and this time also with a chocolate filled waffle stick. Nana and Papa share a slice of our favourite appel coek (apple cake), also with whipped cream. I think Dutch people must bleed whipped cream!

French Fries called Frites are a popular street food. We eat them out of paper cones, perfectly golden and crisp on the outside, soft on the inside. In Holland they are traditionally served with mayonnaise.

Lunch is the meal we have out every day, and often we buy fresh bread or buns and pair them with the most gorgeous array of cheeses I have ever seen or tasted. We sample wonderful street food; garlic sausage dogs, croissants filled with melting cheese and mushrooms.

A glorious cheese shop in Amsterdam.

An array of fresh breads and buns boasting an assortment of savoury fillings.

Ariana inspects her ham filled bun because she is worried that it may contain a few surprizes ... like Dutch mustard or raw onion. (Of course it's Papa's teasing that caused the apprehension in the first place!) There are no nasties, and she eats every bite.

A strawberry sandwich, anyone?

Or how about some picked herring?

Although pickled herring is supposed to be eaten as the poster shown below demonstrates. Only Papa is brave enough to try it!

Papa and Nana loved the traditional Uitsmijer, an openface sandwich consisting of a layer of bread, spec (ham) and cheese with fried eggs on the top. Ariana, not so much!

An Uitsmijer sandwich.

As you can see, we certainly didn't go hungry during our holiday ... and I haven't even written about the chocolate or the cakes or the stroopwaffels ... yet!

Nemo Science Center

The Nemo Science Center in Amsterdam rises like a ship from the sea. Five floors are packed with scientific and technological things to do and discover. The top floor is actually a huge descending roof deck and has a big children's play area. Throughout Nemo 'Forbidden NOT to touch" signs are everywhere, and Ariana enjoyed a wonderful, stimulating and fascinating day there.

                                                         Ariana creates giant bubbles.

Ariana was very interested in learning how fresh water can be made from sea water. She declared this to be her favourite Nemo activity.

How to raise your body using pulleys.

The inner workings of robots are fascinating!

One exhibit is behind a screened area and the sign's English translation declares 'Your hormones and Puberty'. Papa takes a peek and sees wide-eyed children, perhaps a little older than Ariana, staring at a display of interestingly arranged Barbie and Ken dolls. There is more, but we quickly usher her past. Of course she notices our actions and asks, "What's in there?" Papa tells her it is for older kids only. "Why?", Ariana questions. "Ummm, because it says so", Papa replies. Good one, Papa. Thankfully, her chain of thought is distracted by our visit to the roof top terrace.

The roof terrace is wonderful. Its graduated water feature is especially appealing. Ariana plays happily there for over an hour.

A perfect blue and golden afternoon. Once home, I am amazed by Ariana's ability to recall the details of her day at Nemo with such clarity and precision. She cuddles next to me, her voice both eager and filled with wonder.

Canal Boat Tour

Waiting for our canal boat.

Our third day in Amsterdam we went on a boat tour which cruised through a number of the city's canals. In the oldest part of the city center, we glided past elegant seventeenth century merchant's mansions, carillon-crowned churches and the old warehouses, most now converted into expensive aparments. All are rich in history from Holland’s Golden Age.

Papa and Ariana on the canal boat. It was partly covered with glass viewing windows, but we chose to sit at a table in the open area.

We cruised past the  Centraal Station, the Haarlemmersluis floodgates (used in the nightly canals flushings),  numerous houseboats, and the city's narrowest building, as well as some large houses still in private hands. We also saw the official residence of the burgermeester (mayor), and many bridges, including the famous Magere Brug (Skinny Bridge) over the Amstel.

Ariana waves her hand over the water.

These buildings are known as the dancing houses of Amsterdam because the houses are slanted slightly to one side. Ariana was very taken with this idea and craned her neck to keep them in view for as long as she could.

A refreshing drink of water on the boat. We went through several bottles of water each day. The other main beverages of choice on hot days were a wonderful carbonated iced tea (Ariana and I) and Heineken beer (Papa).

I was very fortunate to capture this passing shot of a row of young men along the canal edge. They each had a book in their hands.

The architecture of the row houses facing one of the canals was very interesting. I love the red shutters and flower boxes on this one.

One of the many old bridges we passed under. The tour gave us a perspective of Amsterdam that we otherwise wouldn't have had. I understand now why Amsterdam is often referred to as the Venice of the North. We ended the tour just as late afternoon was beginning to change into a warm, buttery evening. The light mellowed, the heat less intense. We walked home tired and hungry, but happy.

As Gordon and I cooked dinner, Ariana luxuriated in a scented bubble bath. Our bath is so massive, it's almost like a swimming pool to her. Listening to her hum to herself as she soaks squeezes my heart with tenderness.

Nana's little water pixie.