I'm 52, grandmother of 9, poet, wannabe writer, breed Nubian goats, and am going to start making so...
I'm 52, grandmother of 9, poet, wannabe writer, breed Nubian goats, and am going to start making soaps and fudge from my goat milk eventually. I'd like to become semi self -sufficient; I have planted numerous fruit trees and keep chickens for eggs.
Member since:21.12.2000
Reviews:252
Members who trust:38
The Anne Frank House, on the Prinsengracht, was the foremost in my mind, when I visited Amsterdam. The place I had wanted to visit for over thirty years. Ever since I had first read "The Diary of Anne Frank". It is hard to imagine this quiet canalside street, echoing with the clatter of jackboots on the cobblestones, and the harsh, guttural commands as Dutch Jews were herded from their homes and onto trucks bound for who knew where? The tree-lined street looks to have changed little in the fifty years since. Other than the constant lines of people waiting to pay homage to a young girl whose life was cut tragically short by one of the greatest crimes against humanity.
It was Otto Frank's wish that the house remain as it was after the Germans looted it, so the living quarters are empty save for a model on each floor which shows how it was furnished, and the pictures on what was Anne's bedroom wall. Despite waiting about 30 minutes in line, and the line of people being ever-constant, there was a silence as we all trudged through. Some quiet sobs. A respectful awe. At first, it seems quite spacious and then you begin to realise the number of people sharing this space, and you begin to see how cramped it actually was. And you ebgin to think of the way they had to live. not to be able to flush the toilet. Not to be able to open the windows for air in the Summer, or light a fire for warmth in the Winter. To be afraid to sneeze or cough. It is hard to imagine the fear that made people capable of living under those conditions.
And then to remember that Anne was one person of millions. Not just Jews, but Romany gypsies, the mentally ill, and any other deemed undesirable in that awful time. Had she lived, how great might her talent have become? And, taking hers as the story of just one, how can we ever begin to imagine the immense talents in all walks of life, that were lost forever during this period?
The Anne Frank House now owns the building next door, which was being transformed into a museum when we were visiting. I believe this has to be a must-visit for anyone visiting Amsterdam. If nothing else, it truly makes you appreciate all that you have.
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Dec 21st, 2000
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