No Words Needed: A walk in the park.....and the Rijksmuseum

Sunday, since we couldn't (I mean literally could not) sit our rear-ends down on our

bike seats, we decided instead to put our backsides on the train

and to do some more sight-seeing in Amsterdam in hopes that,

with lots of walking, our butts would pop back into normal

human form, rather than one shaped like an angry bike seat.

I think it's important to note that things got so severe, Nate actually

admitted to Googling "bike butt" just to see how long it takes to adapt.

This time, we didn't really have a well-thoughtout plan for the city.

Instead, we thought we'd try to somehow, via public transport, make it to the Vondelpark.

"Winging it" is almost never a good idea in our family, but we are changed people.

Henry loves this building. He thinks princesses live here.

It is actually the Centraal Station. I'll refrain from telling Henry

that if this were truly a princess castle,

people wouldn't actually urinate in or "hot box" the lifts.

He's only 4, going on 5...so I'll let his imagination run for now.

More princess houses:

Most of the Hot Dog carts actually say "American Hot Dogs".

I love what we are known for.

Not sure what the "apostrophe" is for.

So far, we've been a little hesitant of the meat,

particularly when buying in the market.
Everything is obviously in Dutch so when you buy or

order meat, you best be translating accurately or you might end up with

ground sheep parts.

Ok, maybe not "sheep", but they have walls of meat in the stores, all with different names.

How many different meat types/cuts are there really?

Exactly.

One of the first things we learned was if it starts with "kip" - it is likely something chicken-ish.
Lots of ham here. There is ham and mayo on virtually everything.

These are Nate's two most hated ingredients, so

eating can be challenging.

We've been sustaining on fruits, vegetables, any kind of carbohydrate

and, of course, "kip-like" things.

Even the water tastes like "swimming pool"

according to Henry.

So Sunday, as a very special treat, we stopped at the Hard Rock Cafe

for some familiar.

They even served RANCH with my frites, as opposed to frites sauce (mayo).

Oh lord, we dipped the holy crap out of those frites and

would have licked the dip bowl had we not been in public.

When we arrived at the Rijksmuseum, our now-vegetarian tummies

started talking back, meat-smack. The bathrooms at the Rijksmuseum were very nice.

You cannot take photographs in the museum, but this place was absolutely fantastic. Henry loved the swords and armour, of course. Nate and I were both humbled and overcome with Rembrandt's work. Nate's favorite was The Syndics of the Drapers Guild and mine was The Night Watch. Both painted in the early 1600s. You cannot describe how well maintained these paintings are or how intense it is to stand 2 feet from something so grand and see the texture of the paint brush. They were both so much larger than I ever expected - the Night Watch was 142 x 172 inches. Art history 101 at Oregon State has nothing on standing right in front of something like this. I'm pretty sure that we are officially now smarter and more cultured. I know, I'm just kidding.

We knew it was time to leave the museum when the boys started whining for Bugels (their snack of choice this week) and Henry climbed over the barricade that separated the common people from the priceless works of art. Yea, we know when to say when.

We walked a few blocks to Vondelpark which was filling up with the Orange Sea even though it was only 3:00 in the afternoon and the World Cup Final Game wasn't until 8:30 that evening.

This is how you run when you've been cooped up in a stroller

for hours while your parents tour a museum:
He's working his kinks out.

We sat and rehydrated from the heat:

And took pictures:

And watched all of the characters in the park as they physically and mentally prepared for the biggest match this Country has ever seen. "Tiny Shorts" here kept us entertained with his football/yoga stretches for quite a long time.