Schtolen

I decided to come back to Vancouver in time for the winter holidays. The duration of my stay is still yet to be determined, although I know it won't be for too long, as I caught the travel bug real bad!

On the flight back, I took advantage of my 9-hour wait between flights, and ventured into the city of Amsterdam. I was excited to see a foreign European city, other than London for once, until the pilot said that it was a chilling -4 celsius below. Fear not! There was no way I was going to spend all that time in the airport like the last time. This time, I came prepared with two extra sweaters, two scarves, my trusty hat my grandmother crocheted, and a pair of stockings! I bundled up in a bathroom stall and B-lined for the tram.

The tram from the airport to Amsterdam did not have security, nor anybody checking whether you've paid your fare, and sported a puke green colour scheme. Although it did not compare to the state-of-the-art trains in Israel, it was already fun not being in the uncomfortable airport. Within 20 minutes, I found myself in the city that is famed for its red-light district and pot-friendly cafes.

The Westermark, I think...

Early on in my adventure, I made my way to Anne Frank's house to -sadly- be denied access because of my violin and backpack. I was told to check in my items at my hotel and to return later that day. I responded by saying that I just had 3 hours in the city between flights and simply can't do that. I even offered to pay for storing my items at the front desk, and that being Jewish, it's important for me to visit this site. The guard was definitely not a sympathetic man and told me to leave as he escorted me off the property in high Dutch fashion. My only comedic response was to say, "I guess I'll have to wait for the next time I find myself in Amsterdam for more than a day." There definitely was an outcry from the many Israelis lined-up outside; little did the guard realize what was being said about him and the establishment in Hebrew! By that point, I was so pissed off that I honestly didn't want to see it anymore. I must have been so shocked at being rejected from a site that hits close to home - having two Holocaust survivors as grandparents - I didn't pay attention to where I had stormed off to. Yet, if not for that mishap, I wouldn't have found the best bakery ever!

I was walking along - what I later identified as - Rozengracht Street and instead of getting a whiff of pot, I was blessed with the scent of fruit, brandy and yeast (a.k.a baked goods), and just as Toucan Sam followed his nose, I directed my body to the source. There, on the front counter was a log of Christmas cake with a marzipan middle, often refered to as schtolen. Fourteen Euros later, I felt as if I found the Holy Grail, and fittingly, I was arriving in Vancouver on my father's birthday...and who loves schtolen more than me?

Bikes and waterways...


Bikes stop for pedestrians...

It was getting close to lunch-time and I wanted to chow on some good food before heading back to the airport. I was hoping for Indonesian, but was shocked to not find any. I did pass by what looked like a great Thai restaurant though, but unfortunately, it was only open for dinner. Then, I passed by a cool Indian restaurant, but that too was closed until dinner. Every restaurant I walked by seemed to be closed until dinner, which didn't help matters. Hungry, I asked a local if there were any restaurants open for lunch in the city of Amsterdam. She confirmed my suspicion and noted that restaurants are only open for dinner here and that if I want to grab a bite, my best bet would be to find a shwarma place closer to the central station. What do Dutch people do for lunch? Do they bring a lunchbox from home everyday? I laughed at this, not just at the lunacy that nothing is open for lunch in a major tourist city, but that I wasn't about to eat a shwarma in Holland. Hell, I just came back from the land of shwarma! So, I settled for a slice of NY style pizza at the tram station before heading back to the airport.

A famous building or was it the one to the right?


The architecture is pretty phenomenal...

Close to the flight gate, a young girl at a beauty stand asked me if she could ask me a question. I knew very well that she was going to try and sell me something, but seeming as I had time to kill, I caved in. Turns out, she's an Israeli and everyone else at the stand was too. We all had such a laugh, when I spoke to them in Hebrew! The products were amazing, and on principal, I had to help support products from the Dead Sea!

I got home after what seemed like the longest flight in history. The truth was I just wanted to eat the Christmas cake already! The look on dad's face when I pulled out the red box containing the schtolen from my backpack and setting it on the kitchen table was completely worth it.

Freshly baked in Amsterdam that morning...

Consumed within seconds in Vancouver...

PRICELESS!