Tulips and Anne Frank

Tulips and Anne Frank

We were told that Amsterdam had the largest ‘flower exchange’ in all the world. That every day a market of tulip swapping existed and was one of the most beautiful things one could imagine. I was really disappointed when the lady at the front desk informed me that they did no such thing for around 8 months of the year. UGH, RICK STEVES, YOU FOILED ME.. All of this anticipation, for what!!!! So I’d woken up early, ate a hearty breakfast and was ready to see tulips in every shade of purple, only to discover that doesn’t happen until April or May. Erik and I decided we’d go for a walk anyway, with the ultimate purpose of ending up over in the Jewish quarters to go the Waterlooplein markets. On our way there I was given a very pleasant surprise. Although there were no flowers, the market was very much still in ‘bloom’ (hahah! yes! two days in a row!). While few stands and vendors had tulips, many had bulbs, beautiful catci, and other gorgeous colored flowers. The market was absolutely humming. Flower enthusiasts every where each on a careful conquest to pick the ideal bulb to sit neatly in their cozy small green space. So, although it was very different than what I was expecting, it wasn’t in a bad way. There were venus fly traps, lemon trees, orange trees, and of course, poinsettias!! I was so thankful we’d stumbled upon this place… no thanks to the lady at the front desk!

The Waterlooplein markets were a bit of a cluster disaster. Although there was a method to the madness, the emphasis was definitely on the madness. There were clothes scattered EVERYWHERE. If you wanted a treasure, believe me you were looking for it. Nothing was folded, sorted, or even clean, so there had to be some motivation deep inside for that one magic article. This market is categorized as the hippie market because of all the paintings and music sold. I found the paintings striking as some added twists to old favorites like Gustav’s ‘Last Kiss’, while others did things entirely unique. The whole concept of the market was really neat, because if it wasn’t for you… Hey! That’s okay! There’s one three blocks down that has just x,y,z that you’re looking for!

Erik and I also broke our cardinal rule. The rule that says we’d never go back to a same restaurant twice. “The Place” left such a good impression on us, we went back for lunch. We justified it because we were each going to get something new.. so it was …. kinda like a new experience.

Our afternoon consisted of what I’d been waiting for, and what we came to Amsterdam in the first place for. The Anne Frank Museum and Annex. On our walk there I felt nervous and sick, I don’t know why or even how to explain it really. Here is this book written by this 15 year old girl, with some of the most profound truths ever spoken. This book that creates a face, a story, a home for all of the millions who suffered her fate. A history this real, and this recent almost isn’t a history at all.. it wasn’t even a lifetime ago. As we got closer to her house, I knew that she had seen some of the same things I was seeing. Buildings, windows, streets. Yet her fate seemed as clearly written as ink on paper.

I hated that I had to experience this place with so many people. It really is one of those moments when you want to be alone. There is no hand holding or laughing, or talking, or debating.. I just wanted it to be me and this pilgrimage through the symbolism of what this girl and so many millions suffered. This book holds so many personal chords for so many people (me included) that it felt so unfair to have to be shuffled through the museum like a cog in a wheel.

The Annex is exactly how you’d picture it. I got to run my hand along the book case that symbolized hope and hopelessness, confinement and yet refuge in the hearts and minds of her millions of readers. I was able to see the posters she’d hung, and see where she ate her meals. I stood in her bed room, the same room, with the same floor, she had been in while she wrote the book. At the end, we saw her diary. Next to her diary, a large human size photograph of her father in the 1960’s standing in the vacant annex alone.

I wish I had the words to express this museum made me feel. I’d love to encapsulate the moment and give a beautiful synopsis and take home message. There are so many, just none I feel I can put into words quite yet. We had a great rest of the day, yet it was hard not to let it fall in the shadow of our Anne Frank experience..