A wonderful glass-walled restaurant on the canal and a good breakfast got us ready for our 2-hour walk this morning. Our guide, an artist and 30-year Amsterdam resident, led us from our hotel to the Rijksmuseum describing the art and architecture of the city as well providing us a brief history and current culture. The tax rate is either 35% or 52% depending on income level although, as in Scandinavia, people get a lot for their money. Many people bike and each street has a bike lane - pedestrians beware. We have the hang of it now although we've been chided a couple of times when we veered into the bike lane. We watch for cars and bikes and use the reasonable cross walks counting on all to obey the rules.
My fond hope for today was to do the walk and then to see both the Rijksmuseum, housing the Dutch masters, and the Van Gogh Museum. Mr. Vincent is my favorite artist. When the walk concluded at almost 12:30 PM and I saw the very lengthy line for the Rijksmuseum, I realized that I would have to pick only one museum to visit. Damn near Sophie's Choice.
Oh - I forgot to mention that it was god-awful cold today with on and off rain and, yes, hail and sleet. After 2 hours of that, my companions decided not to stand in the endless line for the museums. I, as you might have guessed, would not be deterred. I spotted a likely line and after finding someone who spoke English, was assured that this was it. Cue the hail. Brief respite. Cue the rain and gale force winds. My teeth threatened to start chattering but I quelled the urge because I figured once I started with that, all hope would be lost. The line moved on by inches and I started to get suspicious that people were not queueing properly and that some persons crowding near the front were getting others to purchase their tickets. I am admitting this only reluctantly since such thinking is not me at my finest. By the time I got to the front I had read the sign that said "Fast line (NOT) Cash Only." I was then instructed that mine was the credit card line although the distinction of the two was lost on me. Much confusion followed with me not getting the picture that you could convert to your own currency or keep the charge in euros. I finally told the woman that I did not care! And she said kindly, "Well then you can just push one." I was also forewarned that my entry time would be 2 PM - 45 minutes hence - and that I needed to make my way to the blue door of the distant museum. I cleverly made my way to a likely group of buildings only to find an enormous queue and no prominent entry, let alone a blue door. Fortunately, the guides were helpful and told me the lines were for those without tickets - score for me! - and that there was no longer a blue door. Hah! I was waved vaguely toward a building where I would be able to enter immediately causing me to damn near wilt with relief.
Still $#!! freezing. It took a few more guides before I found the proper entry but now had to wait 10 more minutes outside. You know I had my phone out and was checking the time constantly even though my head was telling me that I should people-watch and enjoy being in front of the Van Gogh Museum. That would have worked save for the bone-chilling wind. At one minute prior to my time slot I entered the museum only to be called back to the turnstile because my ticket wound not scan until 2 on the dot. I literally did a little dance during the final 10-second countdown.
The good news is that the Van Gogh Museum was damn near a spiritual experience. There were a few paintings I had to tear myself away from and kept wanting to return to. Although the place was crowded, people were respectful and we all got to see the breathtaking work. I was almost overwhelmed to think of Vincent dying at age 37 but like Don McLean said, the world was too much for someone so beautiful. I think of what the world lost with Anne Frank and Vincent Van Gogh dying so young, but rejoice in all they managed to give us during their brief lives.
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