sacred steps

we didn't actually have tea at the Frank's house, because it is a museum and they don't serve tea at museums.

finding it was a challenge. the kiwi's, as it turned out, don't do "getting lost" as well as matty and i. none of the streets were written in english and therefore were unpronounceable, meaning nothing to the lot of us. as tourist we were forever looking for that street that has a Vij in it or started with an L ... having evolved from the realization that following our favourite street, the one that ended straat, did us as much good as following Rue Street in Montreal.

then the house found us the day started looking good.

we spent several minutes in the antiroom reading an outline of the family, familiarizing ourselves a bit with the history and waiting for the tour guide to round the group up. fifteen minutes later we realized there was no tour guide, just a group of people who can't read the sign that says: please proceed on your self-guided tour.

What i was impressed with most was how sacred the place was to everyone there. Quotes from the diary of anne frank guided me through the house. Through them she stressed the danger her family was in, how trapped she felt within the walls and how important it was for all of them to remain absolutely silent during the day; the workers in the warehouse below were not aware of the family hiding and may have given them up to the Germans. No toliets or steps, no laughing or crying, no talking or chewing moving at all.

The house had three floors to be toured, a fourth, the attic, was sealed off. Save for a few whispers between tourists, the place was silent. As groups moved about it was clear just how difficult it must have been for this family. Above me i heard the every floorboard creak under every heel that passed. Everyone moved with such care, with a common understanding that something out of our grasp had happened here. Occasionally a blasphemous flash would disrupt the out focus and furrowed brows would assault the perpetrator. Very people took more than one photo, it just didn't feel right.

It was incredible to have walked through the place that once served as a safehouse for so many people.

ol'vanny

we visited the van gough museum, but they didn't have starry night. i was all excited to see it because, really, it was the only one i knew of his without being prompted. of course once walking past a few of his others i started to remember them as well, but i was still a wee bit disappointed.

i took the audio tour which turned out to be for people who couldn't read the plaques that hung next to each painting. i suppose it was also for art fanatics who enjoyed being lead around by a breathy female. it's been a while since i've heard my celebrity narrator, yet this was a welcome change; as well, i could watch the painting reveal it's self, if you will, as my female friend described it to me.

part of the tour took us through some of van gough's doodles. it was neat to see how his works progressed; what made it, what didn't and what changed.

the girls came with us, however we learned early on that museums weren't really their thing and pretty soon they had run ahead, finished the tour and were taking elevator rides. we hadn't thought to bring any toys with us to keep them occupied while we went about our day. i suppose those are the things you learn as you travel.

we finished off the tour, as one always does, with a trip to the souvenir shop (which, as i am sure you all know, is french for cheep-trinket). i picked out three postcards of mini van gough paintings. that i am sure ol'vanny would have been very proud to see his work trivialized, but i cared only until i saw that prints of the real thing were going for thousands of euro.

the lovely young woman who worked the check out was doodling on a bit of paper. cleverly i remarked that perhaps someday they'd be hanging somewhere with people doting over them. she smiled, thanked me and checked me out.

i walked away with a big stupid grin on my face which quickly turned my face red as i caught eyes with the group of three tourists who had watched the whole thing. all matty could do to hold back his laughter was smile and stifle his chuckle through his nose. the kiwi's pointed and i turned pink.

damn this cleverness

i collected my bag at the coat check and we went on our way. we were due at anne frank's house for tea at four.