I awoke early and feeling much better, and even made it back to the airport in time to greet Erin as she walked through the terminal on her way to the shuttle station. It was a relief to have her there, safe and sound, and we caught the shuttle back to the hotel so she could take a shower and get ready for the exciting day ahead.
After a meal that nearly swept her off her feet in delight, we were off to the Central Station, and Amsterdam!
The goal for the day was to walk around, see the sights, and tour the Corrie Ten Boom Huis, which is now a museum. We found our way to the suburb of Haarlem where Corrie and her family lived, and entered the charming area that she called home which I had read about in her book, The Hiding Place.
From the train station to the downtown market square (Grote Markt,) the streets were lined with quaint shops and wonderful scents. Open air stalls selling pastries and breads, cheese and flowers; merchandise laid out by the cartload, all calling us with their siren song as proprietors glanced at us with obvious disdain. I am not sure if we looked like we just came out of Africa (we probably did,) if we just looked low class (we probably did,) or if Europeans are simply more reserved (they probably are, especially after the in-your-face nature of shopping in Tanzania,) but it was difficult to get anyone's attention to buy the various food items without which Erin could no longer live. Talk about a quantum change!
To say that Erin ate her way through Europe does not quite convey the joy with which she tucked into the appealing morsels available on all sides. She found it all irresistible, especially after the ugali and unidentified protein sources to which she had become accustomed in Arusha. (This particular theme has a post script which I will get into on the following day's adventure, so hold that thought....)
We walked and talked, enjoyed an outdoor cafe, ate some more treats, visited the Frans Hals museum, and ultimately ended up in front of Corrie's home at the appointed time. There was mounting concern, as the sign posted on the door stated firmly that only 25 people would be allowed to enter in one tour, and it became increasingly obvious that we were going to number more than 25. When the guide finally arrived and opened the door, she was a little surprised, but we all agreed it was close, and in we crowded.
Our guide was from the US and had lived in Holland for a few years, so her English was colloquial and easy to understand. She was very enthusiastic about her subject, and waxed poetic about the Ten Boom family and their experiences. It was an interesting talk, interrupted by another large group packing into the small house, leading to more bodies trying to fit into too little space. Europeans do not seem as interested in their hula hoop of personal space as Americans - you could tell at a glance who was who!
Eventually we were able to go and see the actual hiding place, as well as view mementos and photographs of Corries post-war years, when she traveled and spoke. I was fortunate enough to hear her speak in person when I was a teen, so seeing her home and being able to examine the actual hiding place was a thrill for me.
When the tour was over, we made our way back to the train, and finally, back to the hotel for the night. It had been a long day for Erin, who made the mind warping change from Arusha to Europe, and my cold was catching up with me. More adventures awaited us, and it was time for sleep!
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