Hoek van ’t IJ

"Fine and sunny, with a top temperature of 25C", promised the weather forecast for our first full day in Amsterdam. I don't suppose that gave anyone due cause for complaint.

It is also amazing what a huge difference eight hours sleep makes. Yesterday our group looked terrible enough to instill fear in children and large dogs, but as we gathered for breakfast this morning, everyone had regained their smiles, energy and a small amount of their mental faculties as well. We were all looking forward to our first full day enjoying and exploring Amsterdam.

Maggie and I had already done our own share of early morning exploring. We had awoken at 5.30 am and, since neither of us felt like going back to sleep, we dressed and headed off into the predawn streets of the city. This is always a lovely time to walk, when the streets are quiet and the air is fresh and cool.

My own mental state would have been even better if I had been able to resolve the issue with my non functioning VISA debit card. Since it had now been declined at establishments all over the city, I had to deduce that something sinister was going on.

After spending a fruitless 30 minutes trying to contact the 24/7 "customer support team" (aka the completely useless and non responsive robot assistant), I decided if the problem was going to be solved, I would have to do it myself. And that is what I did. Even though I had previously explained to the NAB bankers that I was travelling to Europe and wanted all the arrangements to be in place, they had thoughtfully put a block on all overseas transactions. Absolutely brilliant of them.

After some time poking around on the NAB online banking website, I finally found the way to unlock the VISA constipation which had plagued our first day. I almost ran down the stairs (actually almost a ladder) to the reception desk. They tested the unlocked card, and it worked. My stress level dropped by about 90%.

Back at the hotel for breakfast, we saw a familiar face come walking in the door. Actually, it was more than just a face, it was the latest member of the team. Pascale had just arrived from Melbourne and had somehow managed to still look human and awake.

With our numbers now increasing steadily, we discussed how to spend the day. Nine of us decided to make a trip to the famous STRAART Musuem. This is a huge, old industrial area which has now been converted into a place for artists and sculptors to display their work.

To get there we had to first walk to Centraal Station, and then catch a free ferry to the other side of the harbour. It proved to be a nice escape from the crowds in central Amsterdam, and the massive buildings were actually more interesting than the artwork. We could only imagine what these places would have looked like when they were filled with 100s of workers.

By around 1 pm, we were starting to feel the delayed effects of exhaustion and found that our feet had somehow started to feel like we were wearing concrete shoes. It was time to head back to the sanctuary of the hotel.

We managed to get on the correct ferry back the Centraal Station. We even managed to successfully navigate back to the correct street. We even managed to (initially) start walking in the correct direction. What could possibly go wrong ? Actually Gordon went wrong.

"I think we should be going in the other direction", he suggested. I looked around and started to doubt myself. Maybe he was right. I told the walking peloton that we would have to turn around and retrace the last 20 mins of walking. And that is what we did.

After about another 30 mins of walking in the opposite direction, we all started to doubt ourselves. This definitely did not look right. I checked the street name, to discover that the street name had changed. This was the last thing we needed.

"OK folks, it's time to turn around again", The group executed a second U turn and started to head back in the same direction I had originally chosen. The last 45 minutes had been wasted. I could now relate to the famous grand old Duke of York, fruitlessly marching his men up and down the hill.

Somehow, we finally reached the familiar hotel and collapsed into the large chairs in the lounge. It had been a long day, but we were so pleased to be joined by Ken and Pauline, who had spent the last couple of days in The Hague. The contingent of Ghostriders at the hotel had now swollen to 13.

It had been another long day, terminating in another early night. According to my watch we had walked over 15,000 steps (mostly in the wrong direction).

Good Night Amsterdam.Read more