Museums in Amsterdam, The Netherlands - Saturday, April 29, 2017

It was our last full day in the Netherlands and in Amsterdam. We had definitely experienced the local culture with King's Day and the surrounding revelries, but it was time to get cultured, like, for real. 

Given that we had tickets for the Anne Frank Museum at 12:45, I wanted to make sure we could take our time in the Rijksmuseum beforehand. It opened at 9, so we were out looking for breakfast at 8:20. 

Turns out, not a lot is open that early. (That had actually been a part of one of the improv scenes the night before.) I looked up a bakery, which had ok stuff, then saw a Starbucks for Alisa's caffeine fix, and only then did we see a bagel shop. So I had two breakfasts. Before 9am. 

We got in the museum and were immediately overwhelmed. There are three floors, centers on different time periods, but all we really had to find at first was the Gallery of Honor, which housed the couple artists we'd heard of (or, in Jan Steen's case, probably should have heard of). 

Frans Hals gave us an introduction into the Dutch styles of portraiture, then we moved to Vermeer. His scenes had a bit of mystery in their stillness. 

Jan Steen captured action and movement, and there's apparently a saying that a "Jan Steen household" is a family with those qualities. 

Next was Rembrandt. At this point, Alisa commented that we really knew more Dutch artists than we thought. You think of the golden age of art and you think of Italy, or maybe Paris, but we kept finding names we knew. 

Rembrandt van Rijn had a few paintings of people scattered about, but it was really his giant canvas of the "Night Watch" that dominated the gallery. The history of it (hidden from the Nazis, then slashed by a madman) was as fun to read about as its subject matter. 

Downstairs, we found a self portrait of Van Gogh. Wandering through the first floor, then the second, the amount of art and artifacts in the museum was overwhelming. And then when we tried to find the rooms on the other side of the museum? We had to go to the bottom floor to cut over. (The rooms were actually recreations of rooms from houses in the Netherlands.)

We paused in front of some nudes to check the time and download the tickets. Thanks free museum wifi! Those nudes weren't going to be the raunchiest thing we saw today though...

First though, we had our tickets to Anne Frank. We bought a 24-hour pass (since we'll need to ride the tram to the airport tomorrow) and tried to hop on a city bus. Turns out, they are only for trams. Take two. 

We got oriented and took a tram to our transfer point. A pair of guys asked about getting to the Rijksmuseum, and we told them they were on the right track (literally) since we had just come from there. One was from France and commented that the price of admission to the gallery was steep (which is true, at 17.50€) but I said it was of the caliber of the Louvre. He clearly disagreed, but we parted wishing them a good time regardless. His comment about museums in France being "free or just maybe €5" stuck with us - I don't remember anything being that affordable. Maybe if you're a resident! Anyway, come check out the Smithsonians sometime. 

We ended up in front of Westerkirk, where we wanted to be, and a bit of time for a bite before seeing the secret annex. I got another herring sandwich (they are good and kind of addictive) while Alisa got more frites. We hung out outside the museum until our group was called, lined up, and walked in. Much better than the multi-hour experience if you don't reserved something ahead of time. 

First was a walk through the warehouse which was the front of building, and was Otto Frank's business before he wasn't allowed to have it. Margot, Anne's older sister, got a work notice in '42, and the whole family went into hiding with another family of three and then a single dentist for 25 months. 

Over two years. It is amazing and maddening and spectacular. I haven't read the book in a very long time, so I definitely could have gotten more had I taken time to do that, but some details were called out. Anne had heard on a broadcast that journals and documents would be collected after the war, so she dreamt her diary would be published. She had even revised most of it by the time the Nazis captured them, split up, and killed everyone but Otto. 

The rooms were bigger than I had imagined, but what hit me the most was the staircase in Peter's room that led to the attic. Seeing their only access to the outside world, that peek to a tree and to bells from the church ringing each day, brought the whole experience into sobering relief. 

Her diary was on display. Actually, diaries. All three of the books she had written in day after day. 

The end of the museum had a gallery of family pictures and then a movie of people's reactions to Anne Frank and her diary. "The Fault in Our Stars" summed up something I'd been thinking about: underneath Anne's name in the book of the hundred of thousands of Dutch Jews that were killed during the Holocaust were five Aron Franks - five people with no museum, no memory like hers. It is so helpful to have a personification of the truly horrendous consequences of a racist dictator, but sobering to realize that all the millions killed had the same stories. 

The walk-through wasn't long, and we were done by about 2. Alisa wanted to bring back some tulip bulbs, but we had yet to find any that were suitable for the US. The flower market seemed like a fine place to wander while collecting thoughts and returning to the present day. 

We had gone past stall after stall, and neither of us were really hopeful but also neither of us had anything else to offer, so we kept on down the row. Remarkably, a dozen or so shops in, we saw a sign: "Suitable for US and Canadian export." Hurray! The certificates on them were all up to date, and we were good to go!

I had read in Rick Steves about the "rice tables" at Indonesian restaurants. Since Indonesia was a Dutch colony, it was essentially a Dutch dish. We had passed a restaurant on the market street, so we backtracked for our opportunity to snack. 

We asked for a veggie version, and also asked to share a single portion. Both of these weren't technically on the menu (it actually said minimum of two people), but we must be very convincing (or just lucky). 

We bought a bottle of water to share and started in on the set of oval dishes aligned on a metal tray heated by a tea light. A mango salad, a tofu skewer, tofu in spicy clear sauce, tofu in slightly spicy yellow sauce, and six other dishes - our mouths were on fire but our bellies were perfectly content after trying all of it. Check and check please!

Alisa, in a switch of roles, had been looking for chocolate for nearly two days. We made sure to swing by a Leonidas, a Belgian chocolate shop, to buy a box to share before heading across the Ij (the body of water just to the north of Amsterdam) to the Eye Film Museum. 

The free ferry across took longer to unload and reload than to get across the channel. It was probably 8 minutes per roundtrip. At least, that's what the signboards above the two docking stations for them guessed at. 

When we got to the north side, the new buildings and structures were very obvious. The A-Dam Tower, a clearly tourist-only tower, was maybe twenty floors tall? Really tall for this "height challenged" city. I prefer our quick bite at Blue Sky Lounge over that gangly thing. 

The Eye Film Institute was a striking building, all angles rising out of the water. We walked in, poked at some of the exhibits on the walls, then found an open door that said "do not enter" on it. But maybe it was only "do not enter" when it was closed?

We were definitely entering through the exit of an exhibit on film history. We watched some of the Wizard of Oz before experiencing a bunch of clips on the "360" room, where different aspects of film where highlighted. I looked at color and magic; Alisa saw the celebrities and sound ones. 

Next were the techniques of how video came about, concluding with the iPhone in 2008 which was the first phone to include a digital video camera. I was pretty impressed with this cross gear thing that rotated and allowed a single image to pause on screen for a projector. Ask me sometime and I'll try to describe it better (or look it up for you).

We were pretty sure the exhibit was free, but we went back out the exit door anyway. 

Instead of seeing a highly cultural film, we opted for a final true Amsterdam experience - checking out the Sexmuseum. 

They only took cash for their €5 entrance fee, which might have been a tip off that this wasn't really as much a museum as just a collection of stuff. Immediately, the penises started, accompanied by the breasts and continuing on afterward. It was overwhelming. 

Some text descriptions told us why we should care or what was interesting about the artifacts, but what was most amusing to me was a little placard where some pottery must have been sitting: "Piece loaned out for the exhibit 'Sexy Ceramics.'"

Marilyn Monroe had a little exhibit all to herself. And that was all I'll write about in this blog. 

We headed back out into the sunshine, deciding where to spend our last evening in Amsterdam. The Jordaan was the clear choice, and a well-rated cafe popped up called "Cafe Chris," so we went to check it out. 

It said it was started in the 1500s on the outside, and the dark wood interior kept that vibe going. It was crowded with pre-dinner drinkers, inside and out. It had a larger beer selection than I first assumed, with maybe a dozen on their menu. I found the wheat beer while Alisa found a dark one, and I hung out by the bar. The bartender was wonderfully respectful and made sure to take my order (since I had been up already to get a menu) before the guy in front of me. I got bumped and jostled and had an elbow to the head getting the beers to Alisa, but didn't spill!

We moved to a round table once the place cleared out a bit, and the bartender came around collecting glasses and told us our table "was more expensive" because it takes more work to make a round table. I didn't think of my comeback (that trees are naturally round) until he left.

It was getting late, and kitchens often closed by ten. When the sun sets at 9, it can be hard to get out of the routine of eating after dark. 

We consulted Rick Steves for recommendations, and, in doing so, realized that he had recommended a drink in a "brown cafe." These were cafes that were coated in smoke and nicotine before indoor smoking was banned, and now they have "retro" atmospheres. Given that Cafe Chris said it was founded in the 1600s (or maybe it was the 1400s - I forget now), it clearly had that old wood ambiance. Check that off the list!

Anyway, a restaurant caught my eye that had daily fresh specials (including vegetarian), and it was just a few blocks away, deeper into the Jordaan. It was now the quiet yet hip district he had talked about, and we enjoyed our walk through the canals to find the place. 

We were seated right away, and the servers took turns getting our orders, our drinks, and our food. Artichoke as a undersized starter, but my pomodoro (tomato) soup and ravioli were yummy. The desserts were especially tempted, so Alisa got the mousses and I enjoyed the lemon cheesecake, on sound advice from one of the servers. 

If it had been another night, we would have wandered around the Jordaan more. As it was, we have some souvenirs that we weren't sure how we were going to fit, so it was time to walk then tram back to our apartment for our final night. We had some leftover Heinekens from King's Day, so cheers to our suitcases. 

It was an easy morning, putting the last of our toiletries away and walking the block to the metro. We both got the overnight oats at Yogurt Barn (tell me where I can get the recipe!) and made it to the airport via train. We almost got on the wrong one, but Alisa figured out track 12a and 12b were different. 

Our certified tulip bulbs and cheese made it back to America and through customs. A little bit of Dutch now with us on the east coast. Thank goodness the cold weather stayed across the Atlantic where it belongs!

Alkmaar and Amsterdam, The Netherlands - Friday, April 28, 2017

Friday had some possibilities open to us, but what I was most excited for was the weekly cheese market in Alkmaar, a 30-minute train ride from Amsterdam. Just think of it - stalls and stalls of cheesemakers with their wares just for us. 

Now, that isn't actually what the cheese market is. If I had know that it was a wholesale show of cheese weighing, would I have been as excited? Probably not, but Alisa knew what the market was (because she had read about it) and we still went. 

It meant getting up to get out there when the market started at 10am, so out the door at 8. We got breakfast in the station - Alisa, a croissant and coffee, and me, an overnight oats cup coated with peanut butter sauce, bananas, and chocolate. That's a good breakfast!

Granted, my stomach was a bit upset from some combination of the Indian food, Heineken, and waffle, so the mildness was good. Also the fact that the market was more looking at than eating cheese was probably for the best. 

The ticket machines at the station didn't take our cards, and the cashier said it was because they didn't have pins. I definitely used a pin with one of them during Iceland, but I'll have to look into that again. Because we had to go to the cashier, we bought our tickets to head back to the airport on the train on Sunday as well. 

We joined the throng of people taking the 15-minute walk into the city center once we got to Alkmaar. A few booths were up, but it was the crowd of people around the main square that fascinated me. Because of my misunderstanding of what we were there to see, I thought the production going on was just the opening ceremony. A bell rung, announcing the beginning of the morning. 

But no - the cheese market was rows and rows of wheels of cheese set up in the middle of the square, with men from the cheese handler's guild taking eight at a time into their sleds, then pairs of them using their suspenders to pick them up and speedwalk over to the weigh station. Two sleds would be balanced on giant iron scales against a set of weights. Then they would be run back to a cart, loaded up, and sent on their way to parts unknown (to me at least).

After fifteen minutes of my fascination right in the thick of the crowd, Alisa explained to me that the production that we were seeing - that was the cheese market. No giant farmers market of cheese and samples, just this "show" that the host at Reypenaer had warned us about. You see, the cheese isn't made in Alkmaar, he had told us, it is just there to make the tourists happy. 

The cheese museum was built right into the building that housed the scales, so we went up to the second floor to buy our tickets. It was maybe 11, and we had some learning to do. But first, the windows afforded a great vantage point over the market. We watched a kid get a ride around on one of the sleds as the cheese kept getting carted around and disappearing. 

The main floor of the museum had a lot of artifacts from the long history of cheese making in Holland, and it ended at an auditorium with a movie showing. The attendant told us it was eight minutes long, and what tour group was going through dictated what language it was going to be played in.

We paused for the end of the current showing only to learn that it was Italian next. We moved on to the upstairs. 

More displays, including the transition from farmer's wives making cheese to factories using milking robots (which were the coolest things ever), were in the rafted attic. The final room had a video playing with tablets around with a variety of games. A few groups were trying to master a "business game," balancing milk production with cheese factories and storage. I was intrigued, but there were no empty tablets. 

We tromped back downstairs to see if the movie was playing in English yet. The attendant gave us cheese samples and told us it was up next, after the Dutch version. With those eight minutes, I went up to get two games of cheese production under my belt. No idea how I did, since it crashed on me the first time, but I got to try it. 

The movie had some more explanations, including following the cheese along the factory process, but it was over quick. I still don't understand why they don't have subtitles in another language so at least two different groups could be happy listening at the same time, but we made it. 

It was nearing noon, and there hadn't been enough cheese samples (including the one that came with our admission to the museum at the very beginning) to satisfy us. A few cafes were scattered around the square and the one called 'T Hartje amused me the most. (A close friend has that last name, though we totally missed the opportunity to take any pictures with it).

I decided to get the tomato soup and "bitteballen." They'd been on menus around, but we hadn't tried them yet. A half dozen fried balls came out, and inside was a creamy potato with tiny cubes of a sausage-type meat. My soup came in a crusty bread bowl, so I was super satisfied after that. 

We wandered and shopped and shopped and wandered, looking for an ATM and wooden shoes, before stumbling into the town church. 

The building was now a civic hall for performances, so not a working church, but the organ was playing and there were pews to sit in. It was "austere" - typical of Dutch churches. With that, our half day in Alkmaar was a wrap. 

It was finally time to take the rest of the waking tours we had downloaded! Rick Steves main one started right at the Central Station. We had already listened through the second half, so when Alisa said she couldn't find it in her podcasts, I realized that it had deleted them from our storage because we had played it through to the end. 

The tourist info center had free wifi, so we wandered toward it and sat inside for ten minutes while it downloaded. Crisis averted. 

We were introduced to Damstraat, a few of the restaurants along it, the stock exchange building, and then Dam Square. The square had the palace (one of a few, though not commonly lived in), a church, and an obelisk. Oh, and performers and pigeons. 

We made it down another walking street we'd already traversed a few times, learning about the smart shops again (herbs for anything you need), and the coffee shops as well (just marijuana). The tour ended right around 4pm at the Mint Clock Tower - where we had started the second half of it two days ago. 

This time, we had time to go check out a view of Amsterdam, so we went up the Blue Sky Lounge. It was on the sixth floor of a mall that was under renovation, but the slightly tilted glass elevator was still there. 

A pair of chairs right in front of the elevator opened up just as we arrived, so we sat immediately in the sun on bucket seats made of elastic rope. The table in front of us had binoculars. Creepy... and fun. 

The homemade ginger ale with mint was delicious, and not as expensive as I'd expect from a place with this nice of a view. We had a small meal of soup and sandwich while enjoying the greenhouse effect of the sun. We were super toasty when we left to track down the bookstore that said "for wizards" above the door. 

We browsed for a bit before heading back to Dam Square to start our next audio tour: the Red Light District. 

The hubbub in the square had only increased by the time we got back there, so we cozied up to the crowd and tried to figure out what was going on. I asked a mom with her two kids, and she gave a really thorough answer and answered a lot of my questions!

The king had turned 50, so he and his queen had invited 150 Dutch people who had turned 50, 40, 30, etc. to the palace for a dinner. Afterwards, at 10:30, there was going to be a giant group picture that other citizens could join in at the square. 

I was a bit confused, because I knew that King's Day was originally Queen's Day, but how did the king have his actual birthday as well? Turns out, his grandmother, the founder of Queen's Day, had her birthday on April 30th. The next queen kept that day, since her birthday in January was too cold. The king was born on April 27th, so when he ascended to the throne, they moved the day back a few days to represent his real birthday. Pretty cool series of events!

We started off toward the Red Light district. First, a church, the "old" church from the 1400s (just 100 years older than the "new" church on Dam Square) was in the center of it all. The tour took us past windows with ladies in lingerie, an info center about prostitution, and a lot of stag parties. What was most uncomfortable was going down a narrow street after a tour group with middle aged couples had just exited and realizing it was rows of windows with only a few populated, and those women now scowling. These women are independent, no pimps, and have a loose union they can be a part of. It may not be illegal, but the morality of it is still something that individuals can decide for themselves. 

The tour ended along a canal with a few marijuana museums and info shops. I had been wanting to spend an evening watching comedy at Boom Chicago, so we headed back towards the Jordaan to see if we could get tickets for the evening. 

We got there around 7 and bought the slightly pricey tickets. Their alums are pretty famous - Jordan Peele, among others - so this outpost of comedians making a European tour into a permanent location is well-known. We asked for a recommendation for dinner and popped over to a Thai place. It was quick, delicious, and truly epitomizes the type of cuisine in Amsterdam - anything you want!

We were told if we were nice to the hostess we could get an "upgrade." We also just happened to be in line right away and got a set of one of the unreserved comfy chairs and table close to the stage, but off to the side enough to not get picked on. 

I thought it was going to be stand up, but instead, it was improv! With a few sketches between that made fun of the Dutch. We laughed a lot, got some of our suggestions incorporated into scenes, and learned some Dutch ("sappen sappelsop" is orange juice - fun to say!)

It had been a long day at that point, but we were still having a good time. A tram nearby went along the canal to our house in the southern part of the ring, and we had the right amount of change to treat ourselves to a ride. When we got back, we explored behind our building and found a bar still open to finish our conversation. At least, for that day. 

King's Day in Amsterday, The Netherlands - Thursday, April 27, 2017

Thursday, April 27: Kings day!

Thursday, April 27th was King Willem-Alexander's 50th birthday. We took a fairly relaxed morning, but wanted some food before popping into Vogelpark to see the children's flea market. We had heard that most places were going to be closed, but we headed along our favorite canal (also known as the one right outside our window) for the tents a bridge away. 

We passed a hotdog stand and a Vietnamese stand, but no restaurants. However, there were eggs to be had. A group of guys had a flat of eggs and a wooden cutout for a head to go into. A guy with goggles had some goo in his hair, and a tall blond with dried egg literally on his face asked if we wanted to buy an egg to throw at at Goggles for 1€. I was in. 

I hit the wood with a satisfactory smack about a foot from his face. I wasn't quite sure of the protocol for egg-throwing (Underhand? Aim for the head or around it?), so I definitely just missed on purpose. (Whether I could have made it had I tried is a different question.)

After my egg, I asked the egg seller if he knew of any restaurants nearby. He suggested eating at the stands around the tents and stalls, guessing that nothing would really be open. 

The Vietnamese egg rolls sounded ok, but it was breakfast time (at least for the next hour until noon or so). A short wander led to a poffertjies stand that was just opening. The man with the batter and the egg-carton-shaped stove in front of him had a first batch of very burnt puffballs. We think the waffle-iron-metal-burner was too hot, but he got it down enough for two batches (including one for us), before it started sticking and burning them again. 

The powdered sugar and butter made it sometime to eat on the tall tables nearby before moving on, so the bitter wind hit us as we had our food. It has continued to be in the 50s (often starting the day in the 40s), so the outdoor nature of much of Amsterdam is impressive and befuddling. I had two fleece jackets on nearly every day. Today, one was underneath my orange sweatshirt. 

We eat grabbed a veggie Vietnamese egg roll that completely burnt our mouths, then headed to Vogelpark. 

We entered the park and walked along with a large crowd. A few buskers were right near the entrance (an oboe-led Middle Eastern band and a guy with a harmonica and guitar). It was another quarter mile into the park before the blankets and tarps started covering the grass beside the walkways. Toys, clothes, books, shoes - everything was for sale in this giant garage sale. And it was being overseen by moms with glasses of white wine. Cheers!

Not only were items for sale, but a majority of "stalls" also had drinks, cookies, cakes, and pies with handmade signs advertising the food. I kept my eye out for something tempting along those lines. 

The final type of excitement, though, was the entertainment. Ten-year-olds were showing off their violin or saxophone or flute skills. Groups of smaller kids danced to playtime music. Teens had whole bands set up! We were blocked on the sidewalk at one point as pint-sized Irish dancers showed their stuff. 

The creative side came as well, with kids advertising polaroids, selfie spots with cutouts of the royal family, nail polish, hair braiding, and henna. 

A few of the families had constructed fair games you could pay to play. Plinko could get you different candies; pay and throw a dart on a 5-euro note, and hit it to win it; boxes full of newspaper had prizes you could reach in and grab; more people had sacrificed their faces for eggings. 

"Smash the tomato" was one I've never seen before, but clearly a Dutch classic. A tomato is rolled down a piece of opaque PVC pipe, and you get a mallet to try to smash it as it rolls out. I didn't see a whole lot of people trying, but I also didn't see any successes. It looks harder than I'd guess. 

A "soda machine", staffed by a kid watching the cardboard buttons being pressed, amused Alisa. I was really impressed by the 12-year-old who was 3D printing Minecraft models at his stand - that line was long!

Overall, the amount of people made it hard to linger anywhere for long, so all we spent our euros on were some pieces of Oreo fudge.

We found our way to a cafe in the center of the park that was "Outer Space"-themed - really only in that the bartenders and staff had some vaguely metallic clothing on. The bounce house for the kids that was a snowman was not really outer space-esque. We sat in the slightly too hot sun (for two heavy layers) to the slightly too chilly wind (when the clouds passed in front), doing some heavy and serious people-watching. It was still a party, so there was a DJ with a wolf onesie on. Maybe it was a space wolf?

Anyway, he clearly realized that his main crowd was the kids taking a break from the bouncy house to do whatever the latest dance wobbly move is. He started inviting (or letting - not sure who was leading this process) kids behind the turntables to essentially play with the volume slider. I was looking away and thought the speakers were cutting in and out. Nope - just a kid given free reign on the up and down slider and jamming with it. 

Since over half the people there were families, it made no difference to me. I'll keep watching the kid that was tearing between the dance floor and the bouncy house, both delighted and envious of the other awesome time he could be having. Early onset FOMO. 

While Rick Steves hadn't exactly resoundingly endorsed the Heineken Experience, he had mentioned it. And the free drinks available. We had seen its doors open early. Figuring both that other museums wouldn't be open that day and that King's Day, with its revelries, would be a good day to go to exhibits on beer, we walked on over. 

We walked along one of the outer canals to get there, and the party was in swing on the water. Boats full of people with beer and blasting music cruised by. They were like extra large dinghies, so not a lot of creature comforts for those aboard. Still, I was a bit jealous of their hookups. 

Buying our slightly-too-expensive tickets, we got a rubber wristband with two plastic chips on it, as well as these orange foam crowns with the Heineken logo on them. A large group was gathered in the next room, so we paused at the bathrooms before taking a seat underneath what used to be a silo for barley. The room's interpreter came over and pull a lever for us - but only after I put my crown on for him. A screen and speakers above simulated barley falling on us, then he launched into his script about the building, the Heineken family, and its brand. First brewed and kegged, then bottled, not shipped across the world, it all started... in another brewery outside of Amsterdam. But then it continued not long after in this custom-built brewhouse. 

Pictures of the three generations that started and now continue running the business were surrounded by metals, plaques, and certificates for winning at world's fairs and then being the best at marketing after that. 

We learned about the only four ingredients that go into beer (water, barley, hops, and yeast). The yeast in particular for Heineken has a pretty cool history. Yeast "A" was grown by their brew chemist at the turn of the 20th century. The colony of it is now held "under lock and key" in their major brewery outside Amsterdam, and it is shipped wherever in the world they are brewing Heineken. 

We stared in some giant copper vats before tasting the wort, the pre-fermentation sugary mixture. The next stop was "Brew You", where we were put on a platform that jumped around as we followed the liquid (and a slightly amusing narrator) along the brewing processing. It sprayed us with water during the rinsing stage and had bubbles during the yeast fermentation, and I was utterly delighted in it. Why not a "3D", Disney-type ride in the middle of a beer tour? Sorry, not a tour - an "experience." 

We walked along to the stables behind the building, where we chatted with the attendant there for probably longer than normal. They keep six horses on the property: all black shires with white feet and a white blaze on their forehead. They get the typical European six week vacation to pastures outside the city, but they are essentially employed for a dozen years, pulling the Heineken cart around the city during the breakfast and lunch hours to advertise, as well as show off in local parades. Given that the coloring is very important, they aren't all from a single lineage. Instead, whenever a foal somewhere in England is born with the right patterns, the Heineken representative is called up. (Or, at least, that's what Alisa and I joked would happen.)

We got instructed on the proper beer technique in the tasting room: a giant swallow, not a delicate sip that would only get the bitter foam (which, while it seems self-explanatory, I've never been told the foam is bitter before, and yet it makes so much sense!) We all got our foam mustaches on and finished the beer in the next room - essentially 360` of Heineken commercials.

With beer #1 under our belts, I thought we'd be at the bar area in no time. Don't worry, first there was a room instructing us how to pour a perfect beer - given that we had to wait around for others and observe them, I got it the first time. After the pouring, you take a ruler-shaped scraper to skim off the extra foam. All the bars in the area do it, so it is actually a Dutch way to pour their extra foamy beer. 

Instead of ending after that, there were at least three different corridors with multimedia exhibits on football (soccer), rugby, and the Olympics. After a rousing match of foosball (best until ten, with at lead one own-goal each; I'll let you guess who won), we made it to... a room with karaoke and photo booths! It just didn't end!

We made our video clip of us riding around Amsterdam, singing some Dutch song, then pretended we were in a copper vat for a picture before exiting down to the elevator lobby to head upstairs.

The bar area was on the roof, with one of the best views over Amsterdam. Given that there's not a whole lot distinctive about their skyline (a couple churches and a museum?), we found a seat on a corner couch with an older couple. 

We got our first beers and sat down. As we were sitting and (guilty) using the free wifi to check our messages, we heard a clattering. An extra plastic token had come skittering along the floor towards us! Alisa, much closer to the bottom of her beer, took it under her wing. 

We got the second set of beer (all that we were technically owed) and started chatting with the older couple next to us. Their son was a pilot, and they could fly standby. He was doing the Atlanta-Amsterdam route, and they tagged along. Another son of theirs was a restauranteur, for what sounds like a good-cooking restaurant without a lot else around in northern Missouri. Since the wife helps out at the restaurant on the weekend, she and Alisa started talking about the service industry and what pains customers can be. 

Given that it was technically my last beer, I was going pretty slow. With a few swallows left, I set my glass down. It got swept up by a circling staff member, and I made a slightly indignant noise. There was beer left!

When the guy walked past up with his stack of plastic glasses, Alisa pointed out the one of mine with a finger or two of beer left in it and loudly commented. Usually, the complaining and question-asking is my role in this friendship, so her forwardness was a true sign of friendship. 

It wasn't ten seconds later that the man came over with a full beer and placed it in front of me. "Sorry about that!" and he walked off. 

The four of us were delighted at the good service, and Alisa got her third beer to join mine. 

The Missouri couple had been treated nicely at the front desk and ended up with a third bracelet, meaning an extra drink each for them. We smiled over their fortune, then wished them well as they got up to leave. 

On the padded bench they were sitting lay a single bracelet with a single token left on it. "I wonder if they did that on purpose?" I said to Alisa. 

"Well, you see if you can do anything with that. I'm going to the bathroom," she answered. 

She left, and I approached the jolly Dutch men at the bar. "So, I know it's King's Day. Could you work some King's Day magic and turn this one token into two beers?"

And that's how we got four drinks for the price of two at the Heineken Experience. It took Alisa a hot second after getting back to our seats before realizing our great fortune. 

After just a bit of liquid and just after 5pm, it was time for some food. Just outside our Airbnb was a vegetarian Indian restaurant that I had set my sights on. Thankfully, it was open and we got seated in the half-full dining room right away. 

We got a dosa filled with potatoes and raw onions before our paneer dishes. Mine had peppers, onions, and a great curry sauce to go with my mango lassi. The naan we ordered also went well with Alisa's palak paneer. Spinach! Something green!

The restaurant filled up while we had our meal, and there was a line to be seated when we crossed the street to our room for a bit of digesting. 

The city didn't seem quite as lively as the night before, and so we posited that the Thursday holiday might mean people would have to work on Friday. What was more true was that many people had been having a good time since the evening before, and everyone has a limit. 

We decided that Dam Square would be a good place to walk to, and we'd see what we'd see. We pushed through one giant throng of people, but in general it was just people flowing along all the streets. 

The lack of a next step meant that Alisa and I just stood in the middle of Dam Square for a bit, watching the tourists getting photobombed by the inebriated locals. I couldn't discern what year King's Day (which was previously Queen's Day) started, so I asked some men wandering by. At first, the long stare made me think they didn't understand English and the question of "when did King's Day start", but then the words that came next made me realize they were just free-wheeling like everyone else. 

"24:00!" said one of them, helpfully. "9am," countered the other. "Yesterday evening?" I offered, understanding their interpretation. They cheers us and went on their merry, merry way. 

A bar near the square had seats open up under a heater, so we took a seat. The group next to us had a guy with a t-shirt and shorts on. It was still only maybe 50 degrees out! Alisa saw some Canadian flags on their outfits, which made more sense as to their lack of cold-sensing nerve-endings. 

It was creeping surprisingly close to 9pm, so I ducked to the shop across the street to get some cans to put in our bags for public displays of drinking, if desired. Apparently open alcohol isn't regularly tolerated in Amsterdam (which is different than other places I've been in Europe), but King's Day has a special exception.

After dinner and drinks comes dessert, so

I decided the third waffle place I saw we'd stop. This wasn't a bad idea, but the third waffle place was not doing a ton of business. The man behind the counter asked about toppings, and we loaded up the waffles he rewarmed for us. Ultimately, they were still a bit chewy but satisfied the sweet tooth. 

We each cracked open a (warm) beer and began our saunter back to the apartment. Not a lot of street parties were out, and people were generally clustered around bars. The waffle guy had said that it was a holiday tomorrow (Friday), so I didn't quite know what to make of the earlier ending, but I wasn't going to protest either. That much time out and about today and over the course of the week made bed a tempting option. 

Our walk home had the only true display of overindulgence for the day with someone vomiting against a wall. Unlike America, where the legal thing is to be drunk, in Amsterdam there was a contingent of those that frequented the coffee shops around the cities (and brought their clouds of pot smoke and mellow attitudes back out into the streets). To add to cocktail of influencers, we saw balloons being filled with laughing gas and discarded metal canisters all over (kind of like rifle shells) that might have contained CO2.

Regardless of the many way people got their kicks and celebrated it, it was the end of King's Day. 

Amsterdam, The Netherlands - Wednesday, April 26, 2017

We were up early, but not quite early enough on Wednesday. The rental car had to be back by 8:30, but I wanted to check out the Royal FloraHolland flower market. Early is best for a place that ships tons of flowers as soon as possible; cut flowers don't last forever. Besides the bustling mini-trucks of flowers, I was excited to see the auction. Because time is of the essence, the prices start high and tick downward. Once someone clicks to buy, they are sold. The highest bidder always gets the flowers, to then ship to their customers, but it is almost a video game as to who gets the flowers first. 

Well, everything took a bit more time than expected, so the 5:45am wake up call didn't get us to the flowers until 7:15. We then got lost, parking near an elevator that employees use and going down a few levels until we were in the bowels of the building. We retraced our steps and found the signs for the tourist section, which involved a hike all the way around the building. Our path merged in with that of a tour group, and the ten minutes it would have taken to buy tickets behind all of them were the last minutes we had before the car needed to be back. 

We instead spent those ten minutes on getting gas for the car, it's own slight trial with labeling for gas that wasn't in English, but we made it back to the airport around 8:15. 

We had an Airbnb in the city that I'd been emailing with. They at first wanted a phone number to text before they'd show up - I have my Google Voice number, which could work for that, but only on wifi. We eventually agreed that I'd check in as we were leaving the airport then meet up about an hour later. 

I had pulled up public transportation directions on Google Maps previously, which had us taking the "Skipper" to Tram #4. I had cleared those when looking for who knows what on Google Maps, so when we got to Amsterdam Central Station I no longer had them. And, looking at my map, we weren't supposed to be at Amsterdam Central at all - there was another station that intersected with Tram #4 that was recommended. 

But, getting off the train, that didn't fully sink in. You can't pull up public transportation directions offline, only driving, but I knew where we were and where we needed to go. As we exited the station, we found Tram #4. We had been told that a tap card wasn't right, since we weren't going to be in the city for a week to make it worth it. We were going to buy tickets from the driver... but he rushed us to get into the very full car and took off, not really paying attention to if we paid or not. 

It was a stop or two later that we had breathing room, and by that time I had confirmed we were headed in the right direction. I suppose we still could have bought the €2.80 ticket, but that felt expensive, and we were almost there...

When I visited Maria in Austria, we learned the term "black riding." Because the bus system there requires you to tap in and tap out, there is no driver that is also a cashier - you are left to your own devices to make sure you've paid. Or, in our case back then, to make sure you hop off a bus when a ticket agent hops on. 

So, back in Amsterdam, the system was similar, so we looked out for cops as we rode the last few stops. Despite going a completely different route that the one I had pulled up, we made it to the apartment. 

We maybe waited for ten minutes before our surrogate host came to welcome us. She works for a company that the owner pays to connect with his guests. We were just happy that we got to check in early! She gave a good overview of how King's Night and Day would work, with some suggestions for areas and places to see tonight and tomorrow. Rick Steves didn't cover this national holiday in his book, so help was appreciated. 

After she left, I napped for two hours. I was frustrated and tired from getting up early but not seeing what I'd planned on seeing, so a comfy bed was a good relief from that. The room was freezing, so the giant comforter was necessary. (We figured out the heaters after we woke up.)

It was noon, so time to venture out, find a bite, and see if Alisa could find something orange to wear. The Netherlands celebrates their royalty every year with a day off. The queen of a century ago started it on her birthday; now it's a king who is the reigning monarchy, and many people still slip and call it Queen's Day. I didn't realize that King's Night (the evening before) was a big deal, but the sound stages being set up all around the city weren't just for tomorrow!

The market was a few blocks long, and we got some Dutch goodies while wandering along it. First up: freshly made stroopwafels. Literally, ball of dough on the honey-combed grill while we were standing there. I guess I hadn't thought about how the caramel-y sauce gets into the middle of the sandwich, but learned that it was because the two sides of the waffle stick to the griddle, creating two sides. He peeled off the layers, coated one with the syrup, then sandwiched them and handed them off. They hadn't hardened into the warm crunchy snack we'd had at Keukenhof; the gooeyness was still there, fresh and hot. 

Our appetites piqued, we continued walking. Herring has been a commonly suggested food to try, so what to have for lunch was answer with a herring on a bun with onions and pickles. It was shockingly good - salty, vinegary, with crunch from the pickle and onion to offset the sliminess of the single whole fish. 

Alisa wasn't going for it (given that she avoids meat), so we hit the end of the market and turned around to get to the gozleme stands. These Turkish pancakes were stuffed with potato or cheese or spinach - Alisa got one with the last two and munched on it as we got back to the beginning of the market and circled the block back to our place to drop off her new sweatshirt. 

While we were home, I was checking out the Rick Steves book and saw him mention a cheese tasting. When he said it was paired with wine, I got even more excited. We ordered tickets for the 4:30 tasting, downloaded a walking tour, and headed out. 

I decided we'd start the tour over halfway through, so we could make sure to not be late. It started near a clock tower, called the Mint Tower, near the floating flower market. 

The tower was originally the city's gate with its moat. Now, it is very much near the center. Given the coffee shop atmosphere, Rick Steves explained that the clock tower, built in 1620, is a favorite for selfies in the afternoon. (4:20 = 16:20 in Europe, get it?)

The skies got gray as Rick's audio tour described the flower markets, with all the tulip bulbs and more. A light rain greeted us at the end of the row, so we ducked undercover for the few minutes of heavy wetness. 

It has been a particularly cold week in Amsterdam, so our long walks are continually interrupted by popping into shops or cafes. Thankfully, we have been near cover, though with differing amounts of welcoming. This time, no one cared that we were hanging out by spinning racks of postcards. 

The rain lightened and we continued. Small streets introduced us to "Smart Shops", where naturally sourced herbs and pills ranged from vitamins to Salvia. Since they are not lab-created, they can be sold. 

A final plaza (and another downpour) were at the end of the walking tour. We saw a theater, a disco, and a pot coffee shop as we ducked under the umbrellas protecting some outdoor tables. Despite the fact that it has been cold, there have been people outside everywhere and every day. Some have dogs, some are smoking cigarettes, and some are just trying to pretend that 55 degrees really is spring.

Heaters are nice, but we really should have brought our own blankets. 

We still had 45 minutes or so until the tasting, but we decided to head to the shop and explore nearby to be sure we weren't late. As we began, the clouds turned into hail. 

Yup. Roughly the third time we've seen hail this trip. 

We ducked into a bookstore and were greeted with a very gruff "I know you're just in here to avoid the rain, but rain and books don't mix, so don't touch!"

With that heartening message, we didn't buy anything and were out once it was safe. Nicer, and we might have thought about being customers!

We checked in at Reypenaer, then wandered from store to store near there, ogling jewelry, cards, pillows, and purses. Finally, it was time!

The basement of the store had tables, each with a pair of chairs and a guillotine for cheese.  A few wine glasses let me know that the tasting hasn't changed in the four years since this book was published. Our host chatted about the very old nature of the building where their cheese is aged, told us that nearly a quarter evaporates during the process (more with every passing year; it's called the "angel's share"), and gave us some of the temperature ranges for their microclimate. They'd won a high prize in Madison, Wisconsin, because they were no longer allowed in a European competition because they swept it too many times. 

A five-minute video showed the old structure, the cheese master, and some of the techniques (wiping it down, thumping it with a hammer or hand to listen for holes). Then, it was time!

I carved us two slices from the young goat cheese, we described the color, texture, and taste, and then I cut us some more. The young goat one was my favorite (just like wine - I like it young). I learned the lactose in cheese is gone after about a year of aging; the darker color in older cheese is from the sugars caramelizing. He brought out a Viognier that made it have a sweeter taste. We then tried the older, "gray" goat cheese, alone then paired with a Syrah. The red wine brought out vanilla notes that were excellent as well. 

We then got into the yellow goudas. The Netherlands doesn't have an international "copyright" on Gouda or even on Dutch Gouda, so their DOC is Holland Gouda. The first cheese wasn't great - just regular deli cheese with only a bit of aging. Once the one year and more came out, I liked them better... but the goat cheese was still my favorite. Their cheeses don't need to be refrigerated for a month or more, so it is safe to take back with me. I got one of those cheese guillotines too. Kitchen fun stuff!

We were feeling nice and full after our cheeses and wines, so it was time to roam and see what this King's Day was about!

Our check-in host had said the Jordaan neighborhood would be a nice place to explore, and we were only a few blocks from it, so we queued up Rick on our iPhones and hit the streets. 

Rotterdam, Arnhem, and Utrecht, The Netherlands - Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Despite our night out on Monday, the goal was to fit in a drive to the Netherlands Open Air Museum in Arnhem for the day. However, since the rain had sequestered us near the harbor, we hadn't gotten a chance to see the market that Alisa's coworker had recommended.

The front desk at the Hotel Bazaar had told us that breakfast started at 8 and could go all day. "Even until 1pm," they said. It was mentioned like it was included, but then we decided that maybe it wasn't when we were halfway through. The abundance was overwhelming, but also instilled some curiosity. I pulled up the receipt as we made cheese and tomato sandwiches, after the yogurt and honey. It was included, and we didn't know about our lunch plans, so we put the rest of the rolls in napkins and brought them along with us to drop off. 

While Alisa was hopping upstairs to the creepy Frida Kahlo room, I chatted with the desk attendant about the weather for the upcoming King's Day. She was worried about the rain and its dampening effects. Given that no rainstorm has ever lasted more than ten minutes since we've been here, I'm thinking it'll be ok.

We walked past the restaurant we ate at last night to get to St. Lawrence's church, with a market starting to set up next to it, and the modernist construction of the market hall. Since Rotterdam was essentially flattened by the Nazis, it has had a big architectural revival. From the front steps of the Market Hall, we could see a row of "cube houses." However, instead of being square to the ground, they were balanced on a point. With custom furniture and well-used spaces (as well as some common areas to ease the squeeze), they are apparently surprisingly liveable. One is tourable, but we had other sights to see. 

In the couple blocks between us and the cube houses was the library - another modern piece that had some pyramidal aspects. We headed along a bridge towards the water, hopping onto a hillside and getting down closer to the water after we realized we were on the path that puts pedestrians on the other side of the water. 

We saw some house- (and party) boats. While crossing the harbor (in the correct direction), we glanced at the fleet that made up the maritime museum's collection. The floating walkway was moveable if anything needed to get in or out. 

With our abbreviated tour of Rotterdam complete, it was time to hop back in the car for the drive to Arnhem. The hour or two continued the theme of flat - windmills along the way were the only noticeable landmarks. The brown signs that led us to the museum also led us to some forested area. Given that much of the land is reclaimed from the sea, there aren't a whole lot of forests in Holland. 

We parked, then headed into the large, modern entrance structure. It had horizontal wood accents around the massive windows everywhere. I went down to the bathroom and came up to view - through those massive windows - the storm that had kicked up in the blink of an eye. It's my hypothesis that because the Netherlands are so flat, the weather moves really quickly. 

The tiny hailstones convinced us to stay inside for a bit. Alisa grabbed an espresso, and, in the few minutes it took for the sleet to pass, we stared at the part of the park that we could see. Beyond a track that presumably circled the property with a tram was a trio of large fields. The first was empty, the second held a small windmill, the third a herd of sheep. Up on the hill connected (and one of the few hills we'd encountered) was a multi-storied windmill. 

The rain and associated precipitation had abated, so we headed toward the tram. Alisa still was working on her cup, so the driver asked up to take the next train so she could finish. We instead headed off to the left and started browsing. 

If you oriented the park as a clock around the vaguely circular tram track, we started at 6 and headed toward 8. The sun, of course, was shining on the small heaps of hail that had gathered under the trees. 

The park had collected buildings from early farm dwellings and brought them into a very tight space, if you assume each was originally on an entire piece of land to support it.

Now, we could pop into one, see how the living quarters were connected to the barn (for efficient work and for economical heating) and then walk the thirty feet to the fancy house, that had a wall between the barn side and the house side of their dwelling. 

We wandered amid the structures, happening upon some sheep, seeking out the clucking chickens with feather-covered feet, then surprising ourselves with the cows that were just shadows from the front room. 

A demonstration, in Dutch, of the rope-making process was going on, and we watched a few tweens getting in on the action, twisting the strands to turn into a thicker and thicker piece of rope. 

We finished up at the residential section, ending at this summer home of some government official... or maybe it was his childhood home? Regardless, a half-size floor connected to the master suite was clearly were you'd put a kid and fence them off. The rest of the house had some great 70s era modular design. It reminded me of the Frank Lloyd Wright summer house of the same era in Wisconsin - the thick-grained chair coverings, the wood drawers and paneling hiding toaster ovens and wine storage. Besides the fact that it seemed it had no insulation, it was a snapshot from the past that was still beautiful. 

Past the residential and farming section was the commercial section. A pharmacy had been brought in, as well as a bakery that we had to peek into. The sun had staved off some of the chill, but when I walked through the shade, I couldn't believe it was spring. 

The smell wafting over the single "street" (still pedestrian) we had was clearly leading to the bakery. A brick oven in the back also tempted up with its heat. The burning of the logs was so regular that it looked artificial. I'm still questioning whether it was real. 

We each picked a bun. Our first idea was to continue walking, but a cloudburst had us instead contemplating the oven and the culinary supplies one could buy instead of traversing the temporarily ill weather. 

While the "storm" paused to catch its breath, we skipped to the next building down the lane, a house with Oriental ornamentation.  After the slight pause, the chill and wet was reinvigorated, and we ducked in to the general store, selling postcard, knickknacks, and bags of chocolate. A selection of wafer-thin dark and milk chocolate "feathers" was acquired. 

Alisa, as the youngest in her family, has a taste for licorice. I've heard the theory that older siblings get all the good jelly beans, and so, as a coping mechanism, the youngest begin to prefer the rejects - aka the licorice jelly beans. Now, the Netherlands has licorice everywhere. Is it just the butt of all jokes in Europe, so it had to acquire a taste for it?

I was saving my sweet tooth (though I didn't know it at the time) for an old-timey stand that was selling poffertjes. I'd read about these little pancake pods, but this was the first opportunity (thought certainly not the last) to try them. Alisa went with some cheese; I had chocolate. In the future, we would only ever have them with powdered sugar, which is the right move.

They are cooked in these large metal pans with dips in even rows. The little holes are filled with batter from a funnel with a handle the controls the drips out the bottom, then they rise a bit as they are baking and are flipped with a fork, making them into little 3-D pods of pancake batter.

The sun was shining as we left (and I was warmed from the inside with the hot cocoa I had ordered), so I felt extra daring to try a bicycle with the pedals directly attached to the wheel, like a unicycle. It was shockingly difficult to have no way to just glide as the top of your foot went over the wheel. Building up a bit of speed helped, but then I had to be sure to dodge the kids that were both adept and not on the bikes and on these little wheeled vehicles where the kid would "row" the wheels to get it going.

We had felt very welcome in all of the little houses we had explored, so when the next one had a line of wooden shoes against the wall, I popped off my rain boot to try one. An in-costume employee came around the corner and immediately started scolding me. Apparently these shoes were antique or authentic - not to be worn. She did then offer up her own wooden shoes (not antique) for me to try! I couldn't say no... and so, while I had them on, weirdly warm from her feet, she described the one of the tricks is very thick socks. The other trick was to get ones that fit well; these were too large for me, so I clunked around for a few steps before returning them.

Alisa and I visited another house, this time one frozen in time from when it was renovated in the 2000s. The original house was older, but the renovations made it the one that Alisa and I wanted to own. It was a politician's house, so had some historical significance as well.

The little railroad circled the property, and we were one stop away from where we wanted to do next - a cheese house. The closest stop was at a rail station that had been moved there, so it was appropriate to jump on the little tram on a rail.

While we were one stop away, the tram only went one direction - counter-clockwise. We were one stop away clockwise. So we settled in to watch out the window during the 10-minute journey around the park.

I was excited for the cheese-making plant because the brochure had mentioned samples. We skimmed the information about creating cheese at scale, with steam-powered machines, and peeked in every room - no samples today.

We decided to head back toward the entrance, which meant we still saw a Victorian garden with children's activities, another half dozen cute houses, a windmill at the top of the fields that we saw from the entrance that we climbed up, a 1970s modular house with a video in binoculars showing it in use, and some heirloom sheep and goats.

We weren't sure if the Kröller-Müller Museum was going to happen, since the Open Air Museum was so big, but there were still two hours until the museum closed. The open air museum wasn't far from the park that the museum was in, but once we got there, it was another mile into the park (and we had to pay to bring the car) to get to the museum. If we had been there earlier, we could have ridden on the free bikes provided. We were a little pressed for time, so spent the money.

The Kröller-Müller Museum has something like the second largest collection of Van Goghs in the world. It had the progressions from his early days, where he was learning to paint, to when he started experimenting with his pointillistic style. Which, by the way, is a pretty cool way to paint. Not only did it have Van Goghs, it had his compatriots, so we could see how the mood of the art scene influenced him. There were probably at least thirty works on display by Van Gogh, though, with a cool timeline of when Helene Kröller-Müller bought them, with help from her art brokerse. She had this crazy unlimited budget, so much so that she paid five times what someone was offering for a Van Gogh because she and her broker thought it was worth that much. Maybe there's some strategy that would allow it to appreciate faster in her collection if she paid more for it, but she clearly wasn't getting these as monetary investments - she was getting them to truly capture an artist that she admired.

We visited the sculpture garden out back, which included at least one Rodin. A large-scale "statue" was essentially this skatepark-like floor that was painted black and white, so entering it was like entering an alien, cartoonish landscape. Alisa got targeted by a photographer who liked her white sunglasses and black outfit, which coordinated with the park. There was head tilts to get the art to reflect in her sunglasses, then we got his Instagram handle to check it out later.

The museum was under quite a bit of renovation, so our short time worked out fine. As we were leaving the park, we saw a bunch of cars pulled over. I peeked over as we drove by, and a herd of deer were grazing. The Netherlands don't have a lot of wildlife, apparently.

It was our first evening driving during rush hour, and, despite all the bikes around, there was still plenty of traffic. We eventually got into Utrecht, parked in the designated parking garage a few blocks away, then relaxed for a bit. Utrecht is known for its double-decker canals, so we found the ones right behind our hotel and walked along them, looking for dinner. A burger place called Pickles (which, many reviewers mentioned, didn't have any pickles) had a veggie burger for Alisa, so we popped in. Dinner was very slow, but we weren't in a hurry - until it took half an hour to get our food, after taking fifteen minutes to order, and we were just getting hungry. From an analysis of all the knives and forks being used on the burgers, we were probably being gauche, but I was hungry after all that!

As a treat, and because it was chilly out, we had some ice cream from a stand that was halfway on the bridge over a canal. It was a brisk walk for the last two blocks back, with a chilly bowl in my hand, but finding stracciatella was what I wanted!