We repeated the process of the morning before, also packing our few belongings as we were to spend the night again in the Hague, but this time in a hotel down by the coast. We input Lisse into the GPS and set off through a slightly damp morning. We seemed to mostly be on back roads through the countryside, which little by little turned into cultivated fields of tulips covering the full palette of your basic ROYGBV, and just about every shade in-between. As we pulled up to the perimeter of the garden, we realized how lucky we were to be coming in from the south - the line of cars waiting to turn in coming from the north stretched back far beyond anything I could see. Conveniently we didn't have to wait at all and turned right on to the road back to the parking field. After driving almost a full circle around the gardens, we were ushered into a row of one of the multiple parking lots set aside to accommodate all of the bulb gawkers. Although we were there early, we were far from being there first. We hiked up to the closest entrance, waited in a considerable line, and were at long last expelled into flower heaven. We had just stepped into an area half a mile wide by a quarter mile long overflowing with 7,000,000 (that's seven million) bulbs - each of which is planted annually. That means that every person in the state of Wyoming could come to this little paradise, each pick a dozen flowers, and there would still be some left over. Interestingly Keukenhof, the world's largest flower garden, only opened to the public in 1949, the same year that saw Ireland's official withdrawal from the commonwealth and fully recognized as the Republic of Ireland. Incidentally also the same year a certain favorite relative of mine was born. But I digress. Flowers, we were talking flowers. But perhaps it's best to share this wonderland using pictures:
Views from the Keukenhof Flower Festival
We easily spent over two hours traipsing around through the flowers, trying to avoid crowds (as if that was possible), indulging in the heady fragrances, and reconnecting with our native american roots by hanging out in a wigwam (pictured above) that we found in the middle of the garden. We snacked on Belgian waffles and little Holland pancake bites, but after a while our appetites really kicked in and we decided we were flowered out. Thus, picking our way back through the considerable crowds, we returned to the car and drove back to Amsterdam for the rest of the afternoon.
We had been hearing a lot about this alleged Queen's Day Festival that was to commence unofficially that evening and officially continue throughout the rest of the following day, and from what we could tell those Dutch folk got pretty into it. So we figured the first responsibility that we had was to ensure that we were properly attired for the party. Luckily there were many tourist and costume shops at our disposal, all overflowing with obnoxiously orange accoutrements, so we weren't lacking for options. Having thus adorned ourselves accordingly, we returned to Koninklijk Paleis as we had again parked in the vicinity. Kennedy's eye was drawn by the many rides and thrills in the little carnival there, so we indulged our inner children and got in line for the most hairy-looking ride, one quite similar to Speed for you amusement park aficionados, that had a set of seats each holding eight people (four facing forwards, four facing backwards) at the end of each of two arms. While the arms rotated in a standard circle, the sets of seats also spun independently so we often found ourselves admiring the architecture of Amsterdam for only a moment at a time while upside down. It was great fun. I wanted to get a picture of the view, but was terrified of losing my camera and was too busy screaming, anyway.
Carnival ride and cool Amsterdam architecture (not taken from upside down while pulling 3.5 g)
Once satisfied on that count, we went in search of food. Probably a good thing we didn't reverse the order of the two. We ended up at a Mexican restaurant of all places and had an enjoyable time people watching - the merrymaking had definitely begun. Not really having much of an agenda ourselves, we began wandering up the streets that called us, curious which form the revelries would be taking. We found some fun shops to poke through as well, though nothing to write home about.
The orange was already out in full force and people were mostly mingling in small groups or casually gathered in larger squares just drinking, as was expected.
We spent a few hours getting lost and making our way back to places we knew, then getting lost again, stopping for a drink or some ice cream now and again. At least the views were nice!
We finally figured out where the red light district was and, taking a moment to steel and compose ourselves, stepped into the infamous region. We walked up the length of the canal, gawking slightly, before deciding we needed another drink and settling at an outside table at one of the tamer bars we found. We had a few rounds, but decided it was time to move on when the Canadians at the table behind us started ranting loudly about how much they hated Americans. Anna was not pleased. But we had more interesting things to do and see.
About this time we dawned our bangin' orange accessories to better blend in with our surroundings.
I don't think it's necessary to expound upon the rest of the evening, but suffice it to say we enjoyed the local beverages, made some new friends, wandered to some new places, and eventually made it back safely to sleep comfortably in our seaside Victorian hotel.
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