Is this the most beautiful city in the world?

Quite possibly. The Animator, a man used to expressing himself through pictures rather than words, summed it up perfectly when he said: "The last time I was in Amsterdam, I spent a week getting wasted. I didn't see the city at all. Now I'm older and wiser, I'm amazed at how much beauty I missed".

Jet lag has wrapped itself around us both like a comfy cardi, so yesterday we rose early and wandered the city, slack-jawed at how effortlessly stunning it is.

Later, we set sail on Uniworld's SS Antoinette for the Castles Along the Rhine boutique river cruise. And, as luck would have it, ourselves and the other journo/photographer couple were upgraded to the premiere suites. Which means we have our own butler! Doing laps of the gratitude pool right now.

Sometimes, just sometimes, it's good to be me...

Today's visuals are of lovely, lovely Amsterdam.

   

Day two

I have run out of adjectives to describe this beautiful city. So instead you shall have pictures of today's wandering which included a visit to the Anne Frank House, particularly poignant because this year marks 70 years since the smiling schoolgirl was wrenched from her hiding place and arrested.

I'm not sure what Anne would have made of the queues snaking around the canal street where she spent 25 months hiding from the Nazis, but I can't say I was overly impressed. Still, it was a lovely day to wait in line and as it's been more than (say it quietly) 20 years since I last paid my respects to this courageous young woman, an hour in the sunshine with good coffee wasn't too much to ask. Besides, it was heartening to see that, 70 years on, so many people are still prepared to bear witness to the darkness of 1944. I only hope I can do Anne justice with my story.

The rest of the day was spent walking - Amsterdam is a city made for aimless wandering and I meandered up and down canals and tiny cobbled streets, marvelling at how elegant it all is.

Am currently awaiting the arrival of the Animator - his flight gets in from London shortly so best get a wiggle on.

The first few pics are of 263 Prinsengracht, where Anne sought refuge so many years ago.

This last random shot was of the Halloween display outside a local store - slightly mad  but totally in context in this gorgeous but quirky city.

Welkom op Amsterdam

Thirty six hours after kissing my two favourite boys goodbye, I finally arrived in Amsterdam.

The first leg with the ever gracious Singapore Airlines was fabulous - lots of room to lie down and service that was as amazing as ever. Even the six hour layover in Singers was softened by the stupendous Changi Airport. I could quite easily move into that behemouth of an airport and never be found.

The next leg, c/o KLM, could have been better: too many of us shoe-horned into a small space. But the enforced sardine situation meant at least I got to know the other Kiwi journo on this famil, Nicky, and her hubbie Carne. We had a laugh and chatted and dozed and watched movies and somehow the 13 hours melted away.

An hour later I was at my hotel and, despite being very tempted to sink into bed, I was a good girl and followed the time-honoured rule of keeping awake until bed time in the country of destination. So, after a scaldingly hot shower, I jumped on the Metro and whizzed out to the fabulous Waterlooplein vintage market and then walked what seemed like miles. But the autumn sun was surprisingly strong and I was ecstatic at finally having escaped the flying tin can.

I should nail my colours to the mast here: I have never been Amsterdam's biggest fan. But that's what happens when your wallet is nicked the first time you visit a city. Still, that was years and years ago and time has been kind to the Dutch capital: it's much cleaner and less debauched than I remember, plus it seems to have pulled off that toughest of tricks - losing its dodgy edge without becoming boring.

On the downside, there seem to be just as many groups of drunken English lads on stag weekends as I recall, but if this city was to list its good points, it wouldn't raise a sweat filling both sides of an A4 sheet. With more heritage buildings than you can shake a UNESCO listing at, Amsterdam is a big fat show-off. And with the yellow leaves gently tumbling to the ground and groups of classical buskers on almost every corner, it was a joy to criss-cross this stunning city. Apologies for the quality of today's images - I was so tired I almost walked in front of a tram. I promise to try harder tomorrow.

For lunch there were these disgustingly fattening frites, drowned in more mayonnaise than should be allowed by the EU. But they are as deliciously decadent as I remember.

And, oops, how did this Zara bag end up in my hotel room? A girl, it seems, cannot live on fine buildings and frites alone...

  

Currently girding my loins

for the horrifically long flight to Amsterdam tomorrow.

But I have three stories to write and movies to watch and meals to eat. And sleeping tablets to gobble down in the vain hope they may give me some respite from the madness.

The Animator flies a day after me, but I'm on the same flight as the other Kiwi journo and her hubbie so at least that gives us a chance to catch up before the Uniworld river cruise starts on Sunday.

See you on the other side...

(Pic credit: Google Images)

Happy Labour Day

Here in Aotearoa, it's Labour Day, the first public holiday since June and the day we commemorate those brave souls who decided eight hours was enough to work in one day.

And what did I do to celebrate Labour Day? I lashed myself to the laptop and worked, of course! But it has been a productive long weekend and I managed to file several stories.

In other news, I just received my flight reminder from the good folk at KLM  which informed me that my flight time from Welli to Amsterdam on Thursday is 34 hours. Sometimes, I wonder why I put myself through this torture....

Today's visual is of this wee poppet, who I shall miss terribly...

  

Te Parae

It's been a while between drinks, but my story on the lovely Angela Irving and the Te Parae Homestead she runs features in the Nov/Dec issue of  NZ Life & Leisure Magazine (click here to read).

This is the place we visited last month, where Bristol made friends with the extravagantly monikered lamb, Hector Rodriguez.

And guess who's mug is featured up front in the magazine's Contributors section?

Auschwitz to Aotearoa

Today I spent an hour interviewing an amazing woman, 80-year-old Inge Woolf, matriarch of the Woolf photography family, for a story about an exhibition the Holocaust Centre of New Zealand is running next year to coincide with the 70th anniversary of the liberation of the hideous GERMAN extermination camp.

I've been to Auschwitz on two occasions; I've seen the gas chambers and walked alongside the train tracks that brought so many innocent people to their death. Like those before me, I've wondered at the absence of bird song across the complex and been horrified at the atrocities that were perpetuated there. Many of the exhibits moved me to tears, particularly the glass display case of artificial limbs taken from prisoners as they arrived. It sounds odd, but there was something so ineffably sad about those prosthetics, waiting for owners that would never come back to claim them. It remains one of the most profoundly moving things I have ever seen.

Anyway, if you are in Wellington in January, get yourself down to the Holocaust Centre to see how nine remarkable Jewish women who survived the camp came to live in New Zealand, as far away from the horror as it was possible to get.

Today's visual is of beautiful woofers, because sometimes we need to be reminded that such beauty exists in the world.

  (Pic credit: Tumblr)