I believe we were made for adventure, to touch it, taste it, drink it in, which is one reason why I like to travel. It shakes up the monotony of life; the day-to-day doings that at one time were an adventure but turned commonplace with their repetitive nature and initiation into my comfort zone. Without new experiences to feed into our lives, we easily become static, sticky, and stuck in our own world, looking but not truly seeing the beauty and extraordinary that’s around us waiting to be explored. We become blind-sighted.
I find it easier to drink in new experiences one gulp at a time so I can savor them and not get overwhelmed by their newness in my life or their power. For some experiences, a little goes a long way, making them hard to swallow as I would soon discover.
This trip, I was fortunate enough to have another layover in Amsterdam where I planned to take the train to the city central and walk the 20 minutes to the Anne Frank House. Since I had taken the train before, I felt fairly confident about this excursion, even though I’d be exploring another part of the city. I timed it so I should arrive in plenty of time to find my way to the Anne Frank House since I had a 1:15pm pre-paid tour.
It didn’t faze me at first when most of the people on the train got off at this one stop because I thought I heard the announcer say in Danish that we had one more stop. So I waited…and waited. I started to get concerned when after 10 minutes we hadn’t moved. Stops never took that long. The padding in my schedule was growing thin with each passing minute. My inner voice kept telling me to peek out the door to see what station we were at but I ignored it. My new experience shyness and past experience confidence combined to overpowered it.
The train whistle blew and the doors closed. I began to mentally prepare for a fast-paced walk to make my tour time but it’s when the train started to move that I froze. It wasn’t going to city central. It WAS at city central and was now going back to the airport! Uffda! Darn it! As the train sped up, I saw all my Amsterdam plans drift past me as buildings, trees, and a nice, clear day flew by, scenery I already saw! I wanted to jump off or somehow make the train stop but was bummed that I had no control to do so.
I began to formulate plan B. I knew I’d miss my tour, which I was bummed about, but I had enough time to hop back on the train once it reached the airport, come back, get off the train at the correct station and quickly see some of the city. As I resigned to this plan, the train slowed to a stop, which was odd because it was a non-stop journey the other times I rode it. Apparently the train was on a new route coming from city central so I quickly jumped off with thankfulness and got on the adjacent train that led me back to city central. All I could do was smirk with inner glee as I sensed God chuckling. I had no power to stop the train but He did, giving me a second chance at my Amsterdam adventure. With that, my travel mindset kicked into gear. Plan A was back on but it would definitely be a race against time to make my tour.
Both times I’ve been to Amsterdam, the weather has been beautiful with clear, blue skies, warm weather in the high 60’s, low 70’s and a soft, rosy light that gives the canals and houseboats a romantic hue. It makes me want to explore the city even more in the future. It's too bad that each time I anticipated it to be much cooler, leaving me to my sweat box of a jacket, which concealed my day’s belongings.
I quickened my pace down the Damrack, weaving in and out of meandering tourists and oncoming bicycles while on the lookout for the next street that would take me to the Anne Frank House, smiling at the sight of the street sign because I was that much closer. Despite my morning’s additional adventure, I was impressed that I was only 15 minutes late. Still though, I missed my pre-paid, non-refundable tour. Graciously, they let me in.
Finally having a chance to de-layer, I settled into the self-guided tour that would lead me through the house and life of the Frank family, ultimately past the secret bookcase and up the steep, narrow stairs into the hiding place. Snippets of testimonials played on TV’s while artifacts and quotes displayed in rooms told their story and in a way, the many stories of those who met similar fates, which intensified with each level of the house that I climbed.
The mood was solemn as each person on the tour tried to swallow these horrific realities. Seeing the yellow star of David; the history and memories that marched down streets I had just scurried along; seeing the rent records from the almost all Jewish neighborhood in which they lived say the occupants had ‘moved out’; and finally seeing the names of the Frank family in a 3- inch high book of Jews who were killed was more than I could swallow.
After all that, I find it hard to understand how Anne can claim that man is basically good when evil like that exists. The reality is that same spirit of evil exists today and stories of genocide are sadly being played out throughout the world. It's important to savor these experiences in small gulps, no matter how bitter-tasting they are so we remember and fight to stop history from repeating itself. I was impressed though with the sheer perseverance of a people under persecution who have been persecuted for centuries.
I strolled back towards the train station enjoying the many canals and houseboats and carefree bicyclists enjoying the day, got on the correct train and made it back in plenty of time for my connecting flight to begin my Norway adventure. For a 6-hour layover adventure that almost didn’t happen, I’m thankful I got to drink in these experiences, even if at times it was like drinking out of a fire hose.
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