Amsterdam (or Should I Say Amsterdarn?)

The title of this post is thanks to a bit of seventh-grade humor. Well, that's not exactly true. It's the humor of a seventh-grade teacher, as repeated by the much cooler twelve-year old who joined my mother, sister, and me for our road trip to Amsterdam.

My niece wasn't originally supposed to come to visit Germany until Christmas, when her whole family was also making the trek. Since we have to move back to the states before then, she convinced her parents, grandmother, and aunt that she should tag along with them. Now, she has a new nickname of "Hitch" (short for hitchhiker) and a trip to Germany and the Netherlands under her belt.

This is my third trip to Amsterdam, and each visit I had different lodging requirements. The first time I was here was with Kevin, and we stayed in a hotel outside of the city center. Instead of fighting the traffic, we instead took the train downtown each day. The second time staying overnight, I rented and small canal house in a residential neighborhood. This time, since we only had one night and two days to explore, I opted for the most central location I could find.

Thanks goodness my sister agreed to drive into the city. The small roads were a bit harried and the bikers appeared to have a death wish. She magically navigated the car to a parking garage near our hotel, and we didn't move it again until we were ready to head home.

After settling into our hotel, we headed to the Anne Frank house. Since it was a Monday in the late afternoon in November, there was no line to enter. Though I had been through the house before, I still got a lot out of the exhibit. It is amazing to consider that eleven people hid in these rooms for over two years. I can't imagine what that must have been like.

At the end of the exhibit there is an interactive video presentation about freedom and liberty. After a brief explanation of a number of situations surrounding freedom of speech, religion, and the press, visitors can vote on whether they agree or disagree. This feature dovetailed perfectly with the next spot on our tour of the city: the red light district.

After explaining "personal freedoms" to my niece, we walked down one street in the red light district. Let me tell you though, nothing will stop a group of rowdy men like the sight of my mother marching her daughters and niece through a side street of red lights