SB 2023 Part Two: The Netherlands

All right, let's go back and make a point: Belgian chocolate, it's famous for good reason. I was making sure each person in my family ate at least one Belgian chocolate each day we were in Belgium (and Bob gave us one last taste of it again on our first night in the Netherlands), and, no, I did not have to twist anyone's arm. But is Belgian chocolate as good as Swiss chocolate--that, Mr. Hamlet, is the question. Now, I am not sure why, but I think I have to give it to the Swiss. Maybe because it was my first experience of anything like that. Right, I am hardly a connoisseur of such things, and, anyway, whatever science there is in palate-pleasing, it's basically lost on me. I mean I still think kimchi is great. But chocolates-schmocolates, let me tell you, the greatest cookie ever made, without a doubt, comes from Amsterdam.

It was hilarious, actually. We tried to get into The Anne Frank House. (--I know, those last two sentences shouldn't be next to each other, but stick with me.) As some of you may know, you need to book The Anne Frank House weeks in advance. This is as close as we came to her, sadly.

Anyway, it gave us time to explore a fantastic city and that is how we came upon this mysterious queue--a line stretching halfway across one of many canal bridges. We could not figure out what there was to queue for, so I inquired with the people at the tail end. "Cookies," they said. "Cookies" I asked? "Where?" "About halfway up the next block." "Cookies, huh? What kind of cookies?" "One kind." "One kind?!" "Yes, one kind of cookie." I went to the young woman who seemed to be managing this whole affair, "Excuse me, but how long would I have to wait for this one kind of cookie if I were to get into line right now?" She looked down the line, estimated, then kind of smirked, "45 minutes." "45 mintues?!" Forty-Five minutes--for a cookie. Well, I was sold... Actually, it took a moment of milling about and mulling it over, and a little lunch besides, but then we decided to admit we were caught in the vortex of its social-mediated lure. So Scout and Suzy got into line, and I figured I'd take the boys to go grab some fries (--"frites" in the Netherlands, too) which we had walked by a few canals before. (Yeah, no rewards for fostering healthy eating habits in this post.) We moved with a purpose back the way we came, and guess what, wouldn't you know it, there was a queue on a bridge for the fries--for fricken frites. Well, this time, we didn't waste any time: "Get in line, boys. I can't believe it."

(I thought these wooden shoes, or oversized "sabos," were for cute photos when I first saw them. Now, I think they were warnings either of queuing traps or of just how mobile you feel after eating any of the food for which you might queue.) Long story made just a little bit longer: they were the best damn fries and cookies we have ever had. Totally worth it! Suzy told me, when we finally met up with our treasures in hand, that, actually, the first cookie queue was only for the second, and then a third before getting into the store, wherefrom you were shooed within a couple of minutes... With a little more time to kill, we continued exploring the city, and saw the "Dancing Houses."

(Look again: see if you can notice their endless sway).

Eventually, we met up the Williams again, at the one thing we had successfully booked in Amsterdam: The Van Gogh Museum.

It was, for me, at least, a top highlight of the whole vacation. Suzy and I love Van Gogh most of all. Carmen liked the exhibition, too.

But I was just blown away.

Magnificent... Anyway, we returned to our "campsite," where we stuffed ourselves and the Williams with the greatest cookies ever,

before we stuffed the triplets into a closet;

and where the Williams, in their tents beside us, stuffed though they might have been, still envied the closet, due to the persistant rain.

We had originally planned another day in Amsterdam, but a different treat beckoned to us: Utrecht.

Utrecht was the city where the Kiefers (Tim's family) lived for a year during the first and worst wave of the pandemic, and, along with a great big dose of fair weather, I think I liked it more than even the triple-queue chocolate cookie. We simply went down a list Timmy wrote for us of things to do and places to visit. We ate cheese,

had a Broodje Mario sandwich,

visited one of the coolest libraries I've ever seen,

and drank a chai latte at The Village Coffee; and as we went, we saw much more of at least equal memorable quality: like a boat race in the canal

--the same canal we later kayaked ourselves,

as well as a great park with a playground on it.

(Now, that's what I call a see-saw.) --Oh, and we ate award winning ice cream (Roberto's Gelato: Greatest Ice Cream in Europe 2019

--though, it must be said, it has nothing on Gelato de Neri in Florence--nothing, and never will!--Sheesh, I'm getting really fiesty about my newly discovered sweet tooth)... Utrecht was wonderful. Certainly, part of my joy was in how easy it was picturing Timmy in this world--like I was visiting his spirit or something--which is all the more reason to include it in your itinerary if you ever visit the Netherlands... The Williams, after spending a part of the day with us in Utrecht (--you might have noticed Leo and Carmen in the kayaks with us), jumped back on their bikes and went their separate way.

We really love traveling with them. So fun. Thank you, Carmen, Katy, Bob, and Leo, for everything! No one ever needs to remind you:

But the second half of our break sent us to the airport for our final objective: Barcelona, Spain--yes, the Mediterranean, Picasso, Tapas, Gaudi's La Sagrada Familia--but mainly, Suzy's dad...