Hamburg

Last night, in the long Twilight, we heard a huge racket of music and raucous singing coming from the canal below. The source was a party boat, all young Dutch women. The boat tied up at the little dock, and a trio of girls leapt off. The remaining contingent belted out a selection of Madonna songs and other hits that were popular probably round the time they were born.  General high spirited conversation and singing continued for the next ten minutes until the shore party returned bearing multiple boxes of pizza. It was as if a switch had been flicked as the crew fell to earnest pizza consumption, and the boat slipped away down the canal, almost in silence.

We went for a last walk around the canals, which become very peaceful in the late evening. We really enjoyed Amsterdam and are sorry to be leaving.

This morning we were packed, breakfasted and out the door by 7.45, and thanks to the efficient Amsterdam tram service, we were on the platform waiting for our train about twenty minutes later. There is a diagram which purports to show where on the platform your carriage will arrive. Either it was seriously wrong or I misinterpreted it, as we had to sprint along about four carriages to get to ours. Lots of other people made the same mistake, so we managed to get on and stash the box and the bags before the crowd dragging huge bags arrived.

There was a nice young American couple sitting next to us. Their first trip to Europe. They were booking travel and hotels as they went - we were impressed by their youthful energy and optimism, they were impressed and a bit envious of Anne's organisation when we showed them our red book with all our bookings.

The next leg of the journey was a little less pleasant. The train was crowded, the German lady in the seat next to Anne seemed to resent someone in what she clearly thought was her space. And a lot of the view out the window was just a green blue as the train belts along at up to 200 kilometres an hour. 

 Hamburg station is, like most busy railway stations anywhere, a rather confronting place and very German as well. It was a struggle to dredge up a few words to get through the simple transaction of buying lunch.

But we found our way to our hotel ok, and laid low for a couple of hours, watching by pure chance ex FBI Director Comey's testimony. I have a feeling this might be footage we are going to see a lot of, something pivotal and historic.

We shuffled down for dinner in the bar next door, good German food. I got the small snitzel, but it still covered the plate. Just as well I did not go for large. I went out to find a supermarket to get a few supplies, encountering a few of the colourful locals en route - probably just as well I don't understand much German - then went for a walk down to the nearby water way to commune with the local feathered population. They seem pretty chilled.

Tomorrow, up early and onto Copenhagen.

Amsterdam Rijksmuseum

Despite the heavy rain, there seemed to be some sort of street party outside last night. But we were up and on our way to Rijksmuseum, and got there just as it opened.

In some ways it was what I expected - large rooms full of shiny paintings of chaps in dark clothes wearing ruff collars, other large rooms with large shiny paintings of chaps in breeches in dramatic poses, interspersed with paintings of ladies  desporting  themselves, allegedly illustrations of classical themes.  Not only these attractions, there are also plenty of things that are well worth coming half way round the world to see. I've always loved the Rembrandt painting The Jewish Bride, and I was very pleased to see it and spend a while contemplating it.

But one great thing about great museums is that they can surprise you with things or arrangements of things that you never knew existed. The room with the Dolls House of Petronella Oortman was like nothing I've seen before -a  dolls house standing about 3 metres high with a finely detailed interior reflecting the houses of the 17th century when this was apparently a popular pastime for well to do ladies. Thanks to a contemporary painting hanging  beside the dolls house, you can see that the interiors are much as they were when made.

Another surprise was the library tucked away inside the building - a waft of slowly decaying paper hits you as you open the door, and there are the soothingly ordered stack upon stack of books. Not sure how often their six kilometres of books circulates, but it makes an impressive spectacle.

Anne really liked the painting of Mary Magdalene, by Carlo Crivelli, c1480. The painting has extraordinary texture, with the pearls almost round, and Mary's hair almost like you could brush it.

And there was plenty more to amaze. One cabinet held a collection of 9 Aquamaniles. I have to confess, being an uncultured peasant, that I was not familiar with the Aquamanile. It is , I now understand, a vessel used widely in the middle ages, for hand washing is secular and religious ceremonies, and is often shaped like an animal.  These were splendid examples, from the 12th to 14th centuries.

And plenty more besides. Fine ship models, an eye popping collection of 18th century magic lantern slides, fantastic parquetry furniture. But after seeing too many things the brain starts to reel, and we staggered back to the hotel to gnaw on a tasty roll from the nice baguette shop and to spend the afternoon recovering and getting ready for departure early tomorrow.

Amsterdam Museums

We managed to get out the door and down to the Van Gogh museum by 9, and through there was a bit of a queue of people even more hard core or competitive than us, we were in within 10 minutes, and the press of people round the paintings was fairly good. If you shuffled a bit or hurried a bit you could get to commune with most paintings uninterrupted. It is a fantastic collection of his work, and seeing so much of it organised chronologically gives a sense of how much he developed. And the perseverance of the man is moving. It's a fatuous observation, but it is so sad he did not live to get some recognition. It was wonderful to see so many of the paintings as he painted them.

The Vincent industry is certainly doing well, churning out the merch. There are at least three stores within the museum packed with people buying sunflower pencil cases, almond blossom cups, Vincent calendars.

We were both uplifted and exhausted by the time we left. We limped home, buying a delicious baguette from the shop over the road, and lay low in the hotel for a couple of hours.

Weather has turned, and when we went out again, there were intermittent heavy showers and some mighty strong wind gusts. Along the streets there were lots of bikes and motor scooters blown over.

Anne wanted a low key afternoon so she went to look at some shops around the 9 Streets area, I went to do so reconnaissance on the train station for our early departure on Thursday, then headed over to the Maritime Museum.

Given the extensive and pivotal role of seafaring tin Dutch history, I thought the museum was pretty light on. It didn't really tell the story of any aspect of the maritime past in any way I could discern.

It did have a great collection of charts and atlases in display, including Blaeu's chart of the world, a fantastically detailed and illustrated world chart from 1664, which shows with great accuracy much of the coast of Australia.

There is also a fine gallery of maritime paintings - some minutely executed paintings of naval battles full of gruesome detail - and a marvelous collection of figureheads from various sailing craft.

But it was a disappointment overall. I was glad I hadn't persuaded Anne to come. I navigated my way back without any problem - the hub and spoke pattern of the city makes it way finding easy - and I got to admire some new areas. Some of the canal houses probably don't have a right angle anywhere, but they are very beautiful notwithstanding.

Soon after I got home, the sky darkened and it began to pour in earnest so we had dinner in the restaurant attached to the hotel, a bit pricey but good not to get soaked.

Tomorrow we plan to visit the Rijksmuseum early, and see how much energy we have left after that. But we feel we are getting better at Amsterdam - we've figured out better how the bicycle traffic works so it is more relaxing walking around, knowing where people will be coming from and how they will behave. Like this photo, note girl on back of bike being dinked, girl coming from opposite direction talking on phone, and chap on wrong side of road carrying multiple bags. All these are now familiar behaviours.

Amsterdam Canals

This morning we enjoyed the luxury of a sleep in, only possible when you're staying somewhere at least a couple of days. Heinze Stuke, the German cyclist who has been bicycle touring for more than 50 years, described home as anywhere you spend more than two nights. He is pretty hard core, but we are starting to feel quite at home here. Hard not to like a place with so many bicycles - where else would you see three random bicycles chained side by side, each with a Brookes saddle?

 After breakfast we bundled up our washing and went to see how we would cope with the IQ test of a new country's laundromat. Short answer is epic fail. We managed to stuff up just about every step. The smile of the brisk but friendly lady was becoming a little fixed by the time we finally exited with a wonderful bag of clean warm clothes each. While we were waiting for clothes to wash and dry we found a supermarket and had a brief, efficient and eye wateringly expensive experience with the Dutch health system, as we got a prescription which Anne had forgotten to fill back in Australia.

We got tickets for the obligatory canal cruise, and after lunch we wandered down to the pickup point. The cruise was great fun. The skipper was a extraverted multilingual guy who did a nice commentary in three languages over the top of the dreary canned commentary. I guess he gets plenty of opportunity to practice his patter doing the same circuit multiple times every day, but we enjoyed it. He was full of cheerful facts about the city and its waterways. According to him, though the canals are theoretically 3 metres deep, one metre is mud, one metre is stolen dumped bicycles, and only one metre is water.

Boat is a very nice way to see Amsterdam on a sunny afternoon. After disembarking, we stopped for a drink on the terrace of the Amsterdam American hotel, a nice spot to watch the world flow by. I don't know what the road toll in Amsterdam is. It is amazing watching a busy intersection, to see how the trams, cars, cyclists and pedestrians manage to avoid one another. Particularly as a high percentage of the cyclists seem to be texting, talking on their phones,  smoking, or carrying multiple objects like chairs, plants or large bags. Most have earbuds from their iPods and no one wears a helmet.

But it all seems to work. It is the most relaxed city I have been to, and there seem to be more people out on the streets, sitting by the canals, in little restaurants and bars, just having a nice time and enjoying life, than anywhere else I know. Could be because it is a public holiday here -Whit Monday - and it will all be back to business tomorrow. I doubt it though - those party boats will keep on coming I think.

Newcastle-Amsterdam

The sun was shining, temperature was around 14, and all the Geordies were in the shirts and shorts when we woke up this morning. Sunshine certainly makes a place look better, and we went for a walk down past the eponymous castle - it was new once - and over a bridge to admire the Tyne and its many bridges, and the unique graffiti. We liked this one - how cutting can you get?

But for all the sunshine, Newcastle still feels like a tough place. The pubs were all full of blokes out downing an early morning pint. God knows what they are like by the end of the day. Seem to be lots of hens party groups, each wearing some particular costume, like sports teams. Pink bunny ears, sloganed t-shirts, L plates... Maybe it is so they can remember who else is in the group when they get blotto, a state towards which they seemed well advanced when we saw them.

We retreated back to the hotel and had a long slow lunch before lumping our stuff up the road to the bus to the ferry. The bus route took us past lots of open air bars with lots of colourful Newcastle residents well on the way to being totally pickled. Big hairy blokes in bizarre drag seemed to be a feature. We were glad to get onto the ferry.

The trip over was better than we anticipated. The sender was calm, the ship seemed to have plenty of capacity, lots of places to sit and watch the English coastline​ slip away, and the colours change as the sun set. We even saw a pod of three dolphins. Dinner at the pop up restaurant wasn't too bad, and we got in for breakfast early and that was fine too.

Getting through immigration, the officer took a long time looking at Anne's passport. He couldn't find the stamp for her entry into the EU. Anne told him she had come in through Portugal, and eventually he let her past. My turn, I said "I am the same as her". The chap replied "No, you are not the same as her, you just have the same story", and he let me pass too.

The bus deposited us next to Central Station, and while Anne got a coffee, I unboxed and unfolded bike, and managed to balance all our luggage on it. It made negotiating the walk to the hotel, about 2 k away, easy.

The hotel is lovely, and we have a canal view, which is great fun on a sunny Sunday, as an endless procession of boats large and small, with an endless variety of people in them, cruise along the waterway, some lounging artfully on cushions, some with elaborate picnics and wine glasses, most drinking beer.

We were pretty tired though, and I am afraid we missed a good bit of the afternoon having a siesta. After dinner we went for a long walk along our canal along with lots of people enjoying the evening sun. It really is a relaxed, interesting place, easy to navigate and get around, and anywhere that seems to have fewer cars and more bicycles, boats and people walking gets my vote. It will be nice to spend a few days here.

Newcastle

This morning we woke up to a grey morning and steady rain. We packed and took our stuff downstairs. The chef on duty was surprised to see us, but he could not have been nicer. He kept telling us he was "back of house" but he made us toast and "chef's tea", and wished us safe travels as we left. He was actually way better than the front of house staff, but maybe they are a bit burnt out.

We stood out under shelter, watching the rain and wondering what would happen if the taxi didn't turn up. The latest advertised safe crossing time for this morning was 8 o'clock. At 5 to 8 George and his taxi splashed into the courtyard, and off we went, across the causeway, keeping an eye on the location of the refuge tower built in the middle, where we could weather the flood if things turned nasty.

But they didn't, and George deposited us in good time at Berwick station, and soon after we were whizzing along in our first first class train, with tea and toast laid on. The trip to Newcastle takes less than an hour, and suddenly we were on the rather gritty streets of Newcastle. A bit of culture shock, to go from somewhere so quiet and idyllic to crowds, people begging, a young guy passed out on the street, terrible buskers, and tatty shops. Some fairly brutal modern heaps of concrete make you think that the place doesn't really care about its heritage. Here is the 13th century church of St John the Baptist, seemingly unloved and surrounded by high rise.

Maybe a rainy grey day doesn't help, but I can't say I warmed to what we've seen so far of Newcastle. I seem to recall that my grandmother didn't like the place much either.

I went off to check the great Northern Museum, while Anne checked some shops and had a rest. The museum had firmly gone for the family, younger person audience, and there were plenty of kids in there having a good time. A bit disappointing though given that Newcastle​ has seen so much . Some sorts of objects I had not seen before though. Like this box of carved whale bone, from around 700 AD.

I bought a bag for the Brompton - I hope the VAT refund system works, but still way cheaper than Australia. And the we laid low in our hotel, which is a impressive piece of Victoriana in its own right - indeed Victoria herself stayed here. It has been nicely restored but has a sort of under used air today.

We are on the ferry tomorrow night, and in Amsterdam for a few days after that. It will be good to stay in one place for a while.

Holy Island Lindisfarne #2

After breakfast I walked round the harbour over past the castle built in Henry VIII's time, which we can see from our window. It is being restored and unfortunately is closed at the moment, but a nice walk, past sheep in stone walked paddocks, rabbits sunning themselves, honking flocks of geese, and a general air of a sunny fine morning full of quiet promise.

When I got back, we went off to explore a bit more of the island's offerings. The tide would keep the day visitors at bay till after 10.30, so things were pretty quiet, apart from an obnoxious noisy toddler. Who by coincidence was called Aidan, the same name as  one of the Island's key saints. Nothing saintly about that kid. But the ruins of the Priory were extraordinarily impressive. Something about the way the stone had weathered and the original carving and architectural form of the building made it well worth the visit. Here is Anne measuring the width of the fireplace in the monk's warming room.

Next we checked out the Lindisfarne centre, which had some great videos of people demonstrating some of the skills used by the monk's who produced the Lindisfarne Gospels. It would be so good to have a manual skill like that, to be able to focus so completely on a task, and contribute to the production of a creation so astounding and beautiful. By then it was coffee time. We visited the Pilgrim Cafe, and managed to get there just before the first wave of day visitors arrived. The cafe was deserted when we arrived but packed with long queues by the time we got our coffee and cake. Outside we were mobbed by a flock of hungry sparrows - it must be hard for them to adjust to the tidal pattern which restricts the availability of their main food source, crumb dropping tourists.

After lunch I unfolded the Brompton, pumped up the tires, and took it for a spin, covering most of the sealed road on the island. I think I will have a lot of fun with that bike. By mid afternoon the tide was down far enough for us to get across to St Cuthbert's island,  where the Saint is said to have retreated for some solitude. Not much solitude today, but a pretty place, with a colony of seals on a sandbar across the narrowing channel kicking up a right racket, a cross between singing and dogs howling carried faintly on the wind.

On the way home we visited the church of St Mary the Virgin, which has bits said to date from the 650s, and to be the oldest man made structure on the island. It feels like a special place.

We had a great dinner in a nice pub - the Ship Inn gets our vote for best on Island - then walked down the now deserted road to the causeway which was in the process of being covered by the incoming tide.

Tomorrow, we have to be up early. We hope we will be picked up by 7.45, in time to get across before the island is once again cut off. If the taxi doesn't turn up, we will miss our train and find ourselves spending another day on the island. Which would not be the worst thing that could happen to somebody. It has been a wonderful experience staying here. We both feel restored and ready for the next stage of the trip.