You aren’t much if you aren’t Dutch

At least that’s what the guy stamping our passport said…in jest I think.  We cleared customs easily despite some of us lacking a Dutch heritage and headed out for Zaandam, a “suburb” of Amsterdam. You have to love European transportation. A short train ride and we were there (except that one    change when we got on the wrong train.) Our home away from home. 

 

A typical Dutch home, three stories with very steep stairs. 

 

Jet lag overtook me, and despite my plan to stay awake I hit the bed and passed out for a couple hours. Thinking that would do it, I felt ready to join the group and head out to meet Jan’s Dutch relatives.  

 

They treated us to a delicious dinner with all the Heineken we could drink. Cousin Annie’s husband worked at the Heineken plant.

   

Next stop Amsterdam. 

You can’t go to Amsterdam without trying the fries. Mannekin Pis has fries with a gazillion toppings. I chose the traditional mayonnaise (though I did choose light). 

 

  
 All aboard! Wine, cheese and water. An beautiful evening cruise down the canal. 

       

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