The Rijksmuseum and Lanyard Herds

There are two things you should know about how I travel.

The first thing is that I despise giant crowds - people seem to become more obnoxious and stupid when they're all together. Individuals are smart, kind, usually pleasant. Not groups. Groups are horrible, unless, of course, you're in the group - then somehow you tend not to notice that you're part of the loud, irritating body of people, but you are. And they are obnoxious, even when they're quiet, just for the sheer volume. The only time crowds are acceptable to me is at state fairs, and then only because the place would look sad and deserted without the masses.

The second thing is that I love art museums, and I can stand for hours in front of my favorite paintings and sculptures, until my back aches like I'm 90 years old and I have to curl into a ball on the nearest bench to be able to walk again. And then I do it again. I do it until anyone I'm with is practically pulling my arm off, trying to move me to the next room.

So today, we got up early and went to the Rijksmuseum, and the two things you now know about me collided. We had breakfast in our apartment, fresh squeezed orange juice (literally, I filled a bottle from an orange cutting and juicing machine in the store) and bananas from Albert Hein, a popular grocery store here, and caught an early tram to museumplein, the museum plaza. This is the home of the Van Gogh museum, the I amsterdam sign, and the Rijksmuseum along with a very large green where people like to picnic and smoke. We managed to get pictures in front of the sign with only a person or two in the frame, unable to clear everyone out like we wanted to.

Have you noticed that? Doesn't it seem that every time you try to get a picture of something with no other people in it, that there is constantly someone walking into the frame? Or walking SO SLOWLY YOU COULD DIE so that you just stand there, wasting your camera battery and your valuable time waiting for them to finally move out of range, and then just as they're about to, another person decides they want to climb between the letters? This is my life.

Hoards of lanyard-laden retirees in giant groups moved towards the museum door, like different sheep led by their own flag-carrying shepherd. When I was a kid, it was the People to People children always showing up everywhere in their bright red shirts, jumping and running over everything. They were like red smurfs that someone let loose at every major site in England, and Germany, and France...and now, no children to be found, the groups of white-haired tourists, grouped together for safety, are led by a guide who spoke loudly in the otherwise quiet galleries in English, then in Dutch or Spanish, relaying the importance of the most well-known paintings.

Side note - I love white-haired retirees. I went to the museum with two of my own. I also love that people are not sitting at home, wasting away in front of the TV - it's amazing that they're here, traveling, socializing, learning. It's groups. Any groups. THAT GET IN THE WAY OF MY MUSEUM LUST. There's literally nothing worse.

Actually, that's not true. You know what's even worse than that? Segway tours. If you've been on one, I'm sorry - I still like you as a person, but I. just. can't. Do you know what you look like wearing an electric yellow vest and a helmet, riding at 3 mph down a cobble stone street, blocking traffic, a dozen other people (inconveniently and evenly spaced out) behind and before you?

I digress. So, we're here early, to (as best we can) avoid the crowds, but not only is there no time where that is apparently possible in a museum like this, it's also impossible to see what you actually paid to see, thanks to these groups. I'm straining to see paintings with 40 some people packed around them, or the ones next to them, all with their cameras out. Or I'd jump ahead of the crowd, being forced to skip whole sections of incredible artwork, to find a quiet gallery where I can sit and look in peace, and not a minute later, in troop six dozen people with green lanyards, led by a slender blonde who wouldn't know the word "tranquility" if it bit her in her size 2 arse, booming through the echoing chamber to inform her followers. The rest of us didn't ask for the information, but we're getting it whether we like it or not. Didn't catch it the first time? She's happy to repeat herself now in your preferred language.

"Follow my hand to the next gallery," she says, waving one hand in the air as she walks, her sheep following along with their clunky shoes to disturb the people looking at ancient silverware.

Did you think this blog was meant to help you plan your own trip? Or consider doing things we've done yourself? Yes, it does that, usually. But today, it's so I can vent and get over myself :-) And so that you can either be mad at me for my opinions (you bring your own segway on each vacation in your luggage, you love it so much) or nod along, knowing you're not the only one yelling at people in your head while you smile at them, moving them aside (gently) with your elbow to get to the front of a painting you've been waiting to see for a half hour.

There are incredible works at the museum - the place is massive. My father's favorite (and I tend to agree) is The Night Watch by Rembrandt. My mother has a favorite in every room - usually she writes down which ones she likes and takes pictures of all of them, including the plaque (I got my organizational skills from her, and my propensity to take too many pictures). Derek slipped away to the naval ships area (he loves paintings of the sea and impressionist paintings), and I dealt with the crowds, fighting to see all of the best works until I was lost in the middle of them. Really, actually lost. Wifi isn't reliable in this place, probably because it can't work itself through the masses of people to reach your phone.

We rented bikes in the afternoon from Scooter Rent Amsterdam (don't rent from them). It was an unbelievably poor service experience, which included having to return one bike that was released to us broken and being put off for an hour by the child who ran the shop (I swear he was 13). He was nursing a pack of Marlboro Golds with a black warning label accompanied by a photo of a neck with a hole in the trachea. We hooked up my dad's GoPro and rode through Vondell Park and around the canals and neighborhoods. We stopped at the Bloemenmarkt to pick up our final souvenirs, and to get a demonstration of a fresh stroopwafel by a very entertaining store owner (find this place if you can - it's maybe half way up the market, though I can't remember the name. They advertise the fresh stroopwafel on a sign out front, which are practically impossible to find here).

Cyclists have their own street lights separate from the pedestrian and motor traffic lights. They're lower down on the pole at a different angle, and the lights are only green or red. You only get three quick green flashes before they turn red, and then you'd better get your arse out of the street immediately, because the motorists won't wait.

Streets are usually laid out as follows - sidewalk, bike path, car lane, tram lane (x2), car lane, bike path, sidewalk. You can be hit from either direction at any point, so crossing the street can cause mini mental breakdowns if you're walking. And don't drive if you don't have to.

We finished up the day at a nice restaurant called Fier, where we traded the outdoor smokers for unstable tables, but were very happy to find that they served unlimited flat water WITH ICE, which made my mother very happy. I had a salad, so that made me proud of myself...I prefer to each waffles all day long but was told I can't stay alive if I keep that up. Derek ran to a grocery store to find cough drops because he isn't able to talk anymore. Just like with crowds, illness when you travel is a b*tch.