The flight from Prague was uneventful. At Schiphol after a long walk from the gate to the baggage carousels I picked up my bags and followed the signs to the trains. Got a ticket from one of the kiosks, but also wanted to get a transit pass, for which there was no obvious ticket machine. A check at an information booth directed me to a store where I was able to get one, after which I descended to the train platform. It was very crowded, and when the train came in I ended up in a 1st class car, but no matter. We were all standing in the car’s foyer crunched together like sardines. Halfway to Amsterdam we all had to get off, descend to a walkway, and descend to another platform for another train, once again schlepping my luggage as in Berlin. But this train did finally get to Centraal Station, at which I got on a tram with my newly minted transit pass, and made it to Leidseplein. From there I walked to the Owl Hotel and checked in. I returned to Leidseplein, caught a tram to the Rozengracht stop, and walked to Fromagerie Kef that Merel had recommended on the last visit, but which had been closed when I got there. This time it was open, and I picked up a couple of cheeses (Stilton and Edam.) Returning again by tram to Leidseplein, I bought a sausage roll at a lunch cart, then went back to Centraal Station, changing to a #26 tram to the Musiekgebouw stop, in time for the concert of the second book of Das Wohltemperierte Clavier. Angela Hewitt’s playing was flawless. After the concert it was back on the 26 to Rietlandpark and a change to the 7 as far as Coehoornstraat. It was only a short walk from there to chez Merel. No one was home when I arrived as I was early, so I sat on a bench for a while, and Merel eventually arrived, carrying a shopping bag. We went up to her apartment, I gave her the cheese, and she showed off her new baby Elif, of whom she is justifiably proud. She made dinner, we talked and ate, she showed me around her digs, and as it was getting on, bid goodbye until I was to see her again in a couple days at the ballet. Took the tram back to Leidseplein and walked to the hotel to end a busy day.
Monday I wanted to see the Royal Palace, which I had passed on last year. Despite signs that said it would be open, it was not, so Plan B was the Maritime Museum. A tram brought me to Centraal Station, and I walked from there past NEMO and Oosterdok to the museum. Inside were a collection of maritime memoribilia, including navigation instruments, maps, and paintings. Outside were a square-rigger from the East Indies trade and the Royal Barge. After finishing I made my way by public transit back to Leidseplein for another sausage roll, then to the hotel where I read and napped the remainder of the afternoon. That evening I ate at The Seafood Bar on Van Baerlestraat, a busy but cozy place with good food. (The mussels were most satisfactory.) Then it was on to Het Concertgebouw for the Boston Symphony. Doors were late opening, and we were told that the orchestra was late arriving from Paris, and only half the orchestra had arrived. The concert began an hour late, and the Beethoven 7th was substituted for the Shostakovich symphony that had been scheduled to accommodate the forces available—it was probably more like two thirds of the orchestra rather than half—and so that the concert would end about the same time. While waiting for things to begin, I was able to chat with an Amsterdam fellow who spoke perfect unaccented American English. He suggested that I try The Seafood Bar if I was looking for a restaurant! (I later learned that the plane from Paris had had mechanical problems and the replacement plane, which the maintenance crew balked at servicing, causing an additional delay, only held about two thirds of the orchestra. But the concert was really quite fine, and the orchestra actually sounded better at Het Concertgebouw than in Symphony Hall in Boston. It was back to the hotel and bed after the concert.
My final tourist day began with a visit to the Van Gogh Museum which had an attractive modern exterior. There was a very extensive collection of works by Van Gogh and contemporaries arranged more or less chronologically, with a useful audio guide and equally useful explanatory panels. After finishing I went to the florist on 1e Helmersstraat I had used last year to try to pick up a couple of orchid corsages for my guests that evening, but they were unable to do it, presumably needing more advanced notice to get the orchids. Alas. After that I stopped at a sandwich shop on 1e C. Huygensstraat for lunch before retiring to the hotel for another nap and some reading. That evening I was to be at the ballet with Merel and her mother Cath who had come from Nijmegen. I wanted to take them to dinner first, but Merel’s babysitter couldn’t be there in time, so we just met at the ballet. I had dinner instead at Haesje Claes. The food was essentially comfort food, but reasonably well done. From there I went to the ballet where Merel and Cath met me, and we had a good time, except for the person sitting next to poor Cath who had a coughing fit through most of the first ballet. After the intermission we rearranged seats so that Typhoid Mary was sitting on the aisle and could leave if necessary. After the performance we reluctantly said our good-byes, Merel and Cath got a taxi home, and I returned to the hotel by metro and tram.
On Wednesday morning I checked out of the hotel, made it to Centraal Station, and got a train to Schiphol, this time without the annoying change mid-route. I got got my boarding pass at a kiosk, and after waiting in the usual long line, got to baggage check. They had a new system, where you generate and attach your own luggage tag, then put it into a bin that swallows it and presumably routes it to the appropriate place. Then it was up the stairs, and a preliminary security check (as the previous year) before the usual security scanning. Once through the scanners I made my way to the gate to wait for my plane. The flight was as usual uncomfortably long, but at least I was in economy plus, which gave me some extra leg room. Once in Boston it was a reasonably quick, as these things go, passage through passport and customs, and I walked outside into the air to wait for my bus. It came, and I finished at the North Londonderry stop where I had parked my car. It was good to be home.