The Number Field

Last year, we decided to try having an adventure for Christmas, even if it meant we would spend Christmas morning away from home. We looked for a good holiday destination that would also fit within our budgetary constraints, and decided to go to Amsterdam. I was particularly influenced by the promise of a Festival of Lights. We chose to take the ferry, but leave our car behind, relying instead on mass transit. Little did we realize the risk inherent in those choices and the negative impact that they would have on our trip.

Two days before Christmas, on the day we were due to depart, the news reports were focused on the historic rain and wind all across Britain. As soon as we boarded the ferry, it was clear that it would be a rocky ride. The captain warned the passengers that we would be on the sea longer than usual, because we would not be allowed to enter the port the following morning until the waves had subsided, which they predicted wouldn’t happen until at least midmorning. It was a rough night for all of us; Jenny, Roman, and Elena all battled with seasickness and I even felt some queasiness come on once or twice. We didn’t sleep much. In the morning, the captain took pity on us and announced that they would have some special free movie showings in the ship’s theaters, one of which was Frozen. Elena and I went to that one, arrived a little bit late (due to more seasickness), and sat down just in time to see the parents’ ship lost at see. All the adults in the room gasped, although I don’t think the kids made the connection. Later, the crew opened up the restaurant for a free brunch—at least for those who could manage to eat anything. By that time, we were getting close to shore and the ship was much steadier so even Jenny managed to eat a little.

Unfortunately, she was not fully recovered, so the ninety minute bus ride to Amsterdam was an agonizing experience for her. I did my best to keep Elena and Roman happy and under control, but we were all pretty drained by the time we arrived at our destination, Amsterdam’s central train station. We eventually figured out which train to take to our hotel (it was just one stop away), and finally made it to our room. After an all too brief recovery period, we decided to return to the city to find some dinner and explore the festival of light. We were still so tired and hungry. I assumed that the festival trail would take us by a good restaurant pretty quickly. I was completely and utterly mistaken. We later learned that we would have had better success if we had taken almost any other direction. We had our chances—a Chinese restaurant that looked too expensive and didn’t appear to have a kids menu, a place by the library that looked closed but probably wasn’t—but we bypassed them and soon found ourselves crossing the river on what appeared to be a bridge to nowhere. A few long blocks later we found a hotel with an open snack bar and ordered several warm ham and cheese sandwiches, which seemed to be the main thing on offer. I remember being frustrated that Elena and Roman didn’t eat as much as they should have, despite their complaints of hunger and the kid-friendliness of the food. In any case, that dinner was the turning point of the whole trip.

After dinner, with renewed resolve and energy we decided to give the festival another try. When Jenny was a child, her family had a Christmas Eve tradition of driving around town to see the light displays on people’s houses; we try to preserve this tradition in our family, and the Amsterdam light festival was supposed to be an interesting twist on the theme, but the differences were pretty extreme. Instead of trees wrapped in strings of brightly colored bulbs and giant inflatable snowglobes inhabited by Mickey Mouse and similar characters in Santa suits, what we observed would probably best be called experimental art. There were paper lanterns that were powered only when visitors turned their cranks, and a series of windows that appeared to be inhabited by people from a bygone era. Upon approaching each window, the character inside came to life and started barking! Many of the other exhibits would be even harder to to describe. My favorite was Buckminster Fuller’s Fly’s Eye Dome, flooded with light from inside and out in ever-changing colors.

Elena and Roman slept very well that night; I think we all did, although Jenny and I did manage to keep ourselves awake for long enough to get things ready for Christmas morning. Elena and Roman were excited the next morning to see that there were presents and stockings; Santa had found us in the hotel! Not all of our presents made it there, and we had to wait until returning home to find the rest of them. In fact, we opened presents on no fewer than four occasions during the Christmas season. For the immediate circumstances, perhaps the best gift was that our stockings contained enough chocolate to keep us going strong for the remainder of the trip.

We were lucky to be able to participate in a national tradition by attending a special Christmas matinee performance of the ballet Sleeping Beauty by the national Ballet company. Even though we wore the best clothes we had brought, we felt rather underdressed compared to many of the other patrons. Elena loved the performance, especially the princess and the good fairies. Roman tried his hardest to stay with it, but we could tell that it exceeded his attention span, so it took some effort to keep him quiet as the performance proceeded. After the performance we ate dinner, then made our way back to the train station. Instead of heading straight home, we decided to explore some more and quickly found the Christmas market, where we enjoyed a delicious dessert waffle dipped in chocolate and piled high with whipped cream.

The next day we wanted to rent bicycles and ride around the town, but hadn’t realized that many businesses, including the bike shop, would still be closed for Second Christmas, or what the English call Boxing Day. We ended up creating our own walking tour instead, starting with the Christmas markets, proceeding through the central shopping district towards the bulb and flower markets, and then on to the main museum district. If we had been alone, Jenny and I would have probably gone to the Rijksmuseum or the Van Gogh museum, but with tired children we just couldn’t convince ourselves that the cost-benefit tradeoff would be in our favor and instead stopped at a nearby cafe that served decadent hot chocolate. After that short break, we started our trek back through the Vondelpark and the touristy Leidseplein area, then up the canal to the Anne Frank house, another place that we would like to see, but didn’t think would be appropriate for Elena and Roman. It was a tiring day for all of us, but I really do love walking the streets of the cities we visit, getting a feel for what life is like there. More than anywhere else we’ve been, Amsterdam reminded me that World War II was not that long ago; the scars and memories still seem fresh. But at that point, Jenny asserted that she was done with walking for the day and we finished our circuit by catching a tram that was headed towards the central station.

On our final day, we decided to venture inside the Royal Palace, a historical building that had really caught our attention. It was a good choice for us—impressive, but not so much that we couldn’t see it all at once, and enough room that the kids could move around freely, especially in the central hallway under the watchful eye of Atlas. For most of the building’s existence, Holland didn’t have a king, so it was only briefly used as a monarch’s residence. The childrens’ audio tour was narrated from the point of view of Louis II of Holland, one of the youngest and shortest-reigning monarchs ever; after his father abdicated, he was in power for only about a week before his uncle Napoleon Bonaparte asserted his cominance and dissolved the monarchy. Elena and I had a good time looking for clues to solve the riddles and puzzles in the activity that went along with the tour.

With just a little more time to kill before the start of our return trip, we decided to visit Amsterdam’s famous main library. It had a nice children’s area, with a very impressive piece of kitsch artwork: a treehouse full of mice engaging in every imaginable activity. But we were tired and bracing for the trip ahead, so we didn’t enjoy the library as much as we might have under other circumstances. At least it was warm, and not too far from where the bus would pick us up. We made it in plenty of time, and although our return trip wasn’t perfect, we didn’t have to face any of the worst elements of the outbound trip. When we finally got home, we were exhausted, but happy to have seen and experienced another new place.