Het Scheepvaartmuseum

The Rijksmuseum is high on my list of things to see, but today, Saturday, there are special events celebrating the 200th Anniversary of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, and more crowds than we want to contend with are due to fill the streets. We head in the opposite direction, toward the Het Scheepvaartmuseum.

I purchased my tickets online last night, but they need a printed copy for their records. A friendly young woman looks up my name on their computer. She prints our tickets and hands us bright pink paper bracelets to wear.  Michael looks off to the side and asks if I want to have lunch.

Museum Restaurant

The museum restaurant is clean and modern and filled with light. The roast beef sandwich with truffle mayonnaise, crazy peas, and tom berries intrigues me. I order it for the crazy peas and tom berries. Michael orders tuna mayonnaise. I think I won this round, but he is very happy with his tuna sandwich and my roast beef is great; not heavy in the least. A thick slice of wheat bread is topped with a mound of arugula, topped again with the thinnest slices of rare roast beef, drizzled with truffle mayonnaise, and finished off with a scoop of tom berries — the tiniest sweetest tomatoes you have ever put in your mouth — more arugula and a crown of sliced red onion. They must have been out of crazy peas because there is not one on my plate.

Inside a Dutch Merchant Ship

We pick up our audio cassettes and start the tour — at the grand finale — the huge Dutch merchant ship whose tall mast guided us on our route here. We soon discover that we have gone the wrong way. Never sticklers for proper procedure we figure it is too late to start. We climb aboard. The ship feels huge to me and I am taken by the sea blue necessary room. It has a lovely and large, white-paned window.

There is a vast difference between quarters for passengers, the captain, officers — and crew.

War & Water

The museum is divided into many floors and numerous wings. As always, I linger long at paintings of ships — at war amid a cloud of cannon fire, smoke, riding the raging sea, the aftermath of wrecks — and the amazing detail and movement of the water. Hours of standing walking bending sitting stopping starting squinting more standing and reading myriad explanations as well as listening to our audio tour prompts Michael to say, “We are done.”

A Whale Picture for Kevin

“But we haven’t seen the whale,” I say, “Michael you know I have to see the whale.”

I read there is a giant whale that you can walk into. I have to do it.

We reach the top floor and walk into the depths of the sea. There before us is the head of a giant blue whale. I tell Michael to act like the whale is eating him, and he says, “That isn’t a whale. Those aren’t even teeth.”

I recite what four-year-old Kevin taught me eight years ago when I read bedtime stories about whales and sharks —actually, I just turned the pages, he told me exactly what was written. “No they aren’t teeth, they are baleen. The blue whale uses it to filter his food — like krill. Now go pretend that whale is eating you.”

We tuck a nap and happy hour in between being eaten by a whale and our own dinner.

Fyra

Reservations are at Fyra for seven o’clock. It is a ten-minute walk down the canal. I make Michael wear a sport coat — he will never forgive me. Our host is in jeans. The restaurant is candlelit and the tables wear white cloths, heavy with starch.

Our server presents us with a small roll, taller than it is round, and a mound of fresh butter. Bread-sticks as thin as linguine and as brown as Dutch cocoa are in a small bowl. The menu consists of a choice of three, four, or five courses. We choose three. Before the courses begin we munch on a variety of amuse bouche  — three to be exact. They consist of a frothy soup in a miniature bowl, pickled herring with two sorbets — one being beetroot — and two tiny crispy puffy things.

A Three Course Meal

Our first course is Cannelloni of cucumber, prawns, and couscous topped with avocado and watercress sauce. The main course is Tenderloin cooked on the Big Green Egg with mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables. I request a glass of cava to start while Michael opts to open the bottle of Spanish wine we ordered to go with the beef. The cucumber slices that shape the cannelloni are so thin they are as translucent as pale green glass. The avocado and watercress cream are small pools of flavor. Our assorted vegetables with the beef tenderloin are a veritable garden on a pristine white plate, but unrecognizable in their presentation: butternut squash, turnip, summer squash, red beets, yellow beets, tomato, zucchini, and a small mound of nutmeg scented mashed potatoes.

All of the food is a work of art, perfectly prepared, tastes wonderful, and not in the least bit sinful; dessert is a different story. We have three — a complimentary starter dessert, a deconstructed cheesecake, and button-size cookies in three different flavors that they serve with our coffee.

Fireworks in Amsterdam

Michael looks at his watch, “ 9:45,” he says.

I think if we hurry we might see the grand finale of the 200th Anniversary of the Netherlands. We don’t walk fast—we don’t walk slow. Passing our doorstep as voices crescendo and fireworks explode, we hurry toward the Amstel and mingle with the crowds.