I walked Waterlooplein flea market, shot it, and browsed around. I checked out City Hall, shot along the Amstel River, and then walked up to Rembrandt’s House. Dan let me use his Museumkaart that gets you into most of them for free. Rembrandthuis was pretty cool and the audio tour was free with purchase. After biking for 90 minutes I was really thirsty and laughed when the water in the bathroom sink was looking so refreshing. After the museum, I saw the souvenir shop with a lady I knew who spoke English. I bought a water, a shirt for my dad, and a post card. After that I grabbed the bike outside the Litzst House and was considering going to the Anne Frank Huis but realized it was in Jordaan and plan to go there tomorrow.

Sometimes you need to look up. Here’s the front of Rembrandt’s House

Venors at Nieumarkt

Next up was biking to Weeg where they had the old weighing house. This is where we parked the night before and the great microbrew was there. I grabbed a bock beer there and had a mini-souffles lunch before walking back through Chinatown towards Museum Amstelkrig (Our Lord in the Attic) which is a regular canal house that hid a small Catholic church in the attic during the protestant movement in the 1600s. The Museumkaart worked here but the guy did tell me I had about 10 minutes to see the museum since they closed at 1700.

This museum was at the edge of the Red Light District up a canal from the Hemp Museum and Oude Kerk (Old Church), so I walked the Red Light and one of the ladies opened her door; I smiled and moved quickly down the road. The Hemp & Harijuana Museum was 5euro for a pretty small single leveled room about the use of hemp overtime. I wasn’t actually expecting anything wild but I was expecting more than I saw there.

Poster in the Hemp Museum

After that I walked the canals and took some photos of the leaves changing and falling into the water along with sinking boats and rusted bicycles. From there I grabbed the bicycle and figured out exactly how to get back. My first landmark I needed was Mittetouren (Mint Tower), from there I headed back south and got home very quickly.

Check out the sign in the window

Liliane and Amelie kept me busy and will help me get my little girl fix while I am away from Claire this weak. Our first stop was an ATM for me outside Hilton Amsterdam where John Lennon and Yoko Ono did their sleep-in before we headed to Marken, a small fishing village that originally was not connected to the main land at all. We walked the village, shot some photos like the boats below, and then walked back to the car.

Next we stopped at Monnickedam just because they’d never been there. They had a great kid park and the girls got to play for as long as they wanted for a euro per person. I had a koffie and Dan drank thee while we wanted them play.

It was fun listening to the girls speak good Dutch and good English. Then they’d throw in other words. I also learned that Pos Op means to watch out and Snell means to hurry. I figured they’d know some French (their mother is fluent) but they definitely know the other languages more.

On the way to Vondeldam sleep started to catch up with me and I was out. I woke up when we got there. It’s a small touristy town on the edge of the North Sea inlet. We ate kibberling (Cod) along the water while the girls filled my pockets with rocks they want me to take home to Claire. I also shot some windmills at Zaanse Schans and stopped at two different cheese and clog making shops.

When we got back to the flat, Dan’s friend Oleg called and wanted to meet for beers so we grabbed the bikes and rode from Dan’s place into the city center (centrum). Dan left his mobile at the flat so we couldn’t even call Oleg when we arrived, but the bike ride alone was an adventure. They have four bikes and I chose the one without a kid carrier on it. It also has no bell so I could not warn people I was coming.

After getting to Waterlooplein, we grabbed a beer and decided to do Thai food for dinner. After a scrumptious Pad Thai, Dan walked us through the Red Light District and, yes, Virginia, there are hookers in them thar windows. I had Liliane on my shoulders so I think they figured I wasn’t interested. Actually a few times Dan and I wondered if the tourists were thinking “oh look, Amsterdam is so liberal that an alternative gay family has their two daughters out for the day.)

After our trek through the lights, we jumped back onto the bikes, Dan gave me lights to put on me and my bag, then we rode back to the flat for bed.

On Superbowl Sunday 2008, Donna, Claire and I dropped Dan’s family off at SkyHarbor International Airport with more baggage than I’ve ever seen carried by two able-bodied adults. We said our goodbyes with promises of visiting and seeing each other soon. That didn’t happen.

Plane fare to Holland never dipped below a thousand bucks a person and there are three of us. We saw them when they headed back to the southwest; I think we’ve seen them in AZ three times in three years. The longest was when they cleaned out their storage and decided to stay in Europe indefinitely. That was February 2010.

Somewhere in late 2009 Donna mentioned off-handedly, “why don’t you just go alone? We can never all afford to go.” (Even though we would LOVE to take Claire to Europe at this age). I hopped at the idea but something always occluded a visit. October 2009 was throat surgery. Spring Breaks are usually professional conference travels. Nothing worked until Fall Break 2010. Yes, yes, why that’s is now. Guess where I’m going TOMORROW? Schipol International Airport, just south of Amsterdam. Yep, I’m gone. Stick a fork in me.

My “gadget” pile of stuff I need to take post-clothes packing.

Auntie M & Claire on the John Deere in our parent’s backyard.

Claire and I fished at Trax Farm, my uncle and I had some good talks, I drove my mum back and forth to the train each day (so I could have the car), etc… My brother-in-law, Danny, and I installed lighting on my parent’s porch one day and another day we took Claire kayaking, after Donna arrived for two weeks in PA.

While there, we drove to Warren, PA for the fourth of July. I first made this trip 16 years ago with Donna when we first dated, and it was good to see so much of her family, including a cousin we’d not seen since our engagement party in 1999.

I shot many abandoned buildings and captured the history of Pittsburgh from the old farm homesteads out near Bridgeville to asylums in Scotts and New Castle to an old iron mill in Braddock. I also photographed the Strip District and Southside before turning the camera on the families.

I’d never live there again, but I know the true love I have for a city I once took for granted and now miss from time to time. A city that still holds my heart.

I walked from the Hot Metal Bridge area near Cheese Cake Factory down to Primanti’s at 19th Street. Primanti’s is a staple of Pittsburgh, and I got my favorite Pastrami no tomatoe add egg extra cheese and a Yeungling. Yum! I wolfed down the food, pulled my hat over my ears and kept going. It was dark out, and I had called my sister to meet me after work near the mall by my parent’s where the trolley terminated. At 14th street I walked into The Beehive where I use to spend almost every evening when I was in grad school and some years in high school; it’s changed a bit since then, but it always has memories for me. I got a coffee to warm up, shot some photos of my DSLR shoved in my coat, and walked outside. I stopped across the street where there use to be a bank that was now a bar. After 20 minutes of waiting and tweeting from my phone to record my journey, the bus came. I flashed my mum’s pass and road down towards Station Square.

After jumping from the bus, I ran across East Carson to the trolley. I shot some photos while waiting 10 minutes for the trolley to the Village. Then I went to send another message, but no phone. Uh oh. No PHONE! I checked my pockets. Got my iTouch, point&shoot, wallet, bus pass, Canon, scraps of paper, gloves, and hat. NO PHONE! Trolley came. I didn’t get on. I let it pass by me, and I retraced my steps back across the busy road, looking for a smashed BlackBerry in the road. Nothing. I looked at everyone on a phone and wonderered. Then I walked back up the trolley ramp. The next one came. I got on. I’d given up. I sat down and waited for my stop 20 minutes later.

Across the aisle was a lady chatting away on the phone about only God knows what, and when she hanged up I asked if I could use her phone to call my ride. She agreed but then her stop came up as it rang. I handed it back, and thanked her. I sat there wondering if my sister, Meghan, would be there to pick me up in the cold winter night. I finally walked to the front of the train and asked a man if I could use his BlackBerry; he agreed.

I called Meghan, she answered, and immediately said “they found your phone!” My heart lept. I told her I was close and almost there. She said she’d been waiting. I jumped from the trolley after wondering if I had to shell out hundreds for a new phone and climbed into her car. She told me the bus driver had my phone and it’d be at the Collier Garage after midnight. I asked where the hell the Collier Garage was. Meghan said it was in Bridgeville, which wasn’t far from my parent’s new place. I texted my mum from Meghan’s phone and since she use to live in the area, said she’d drive me later.

At 11:40pm we left for Bridgeville and I walked into the Port Authority Transit dispatch at midnight with my ID card. As the man handed over my phone, he said no one usually picked up lost and found that quickly and he wished me a Merry Christmas.

Yes Virigina, There still are nice people in this world.

There are two ways to get to Burnt Corral. One is through Apache Junction and up the Apache Trail. The other is to take the Beeline Highway north and cross back before you hit Rye, AZ. I had heard the Trail was very scenic but a harder drive. I also knew it was a shorter distance, so we figured it was the best way to go. I didn’t realize that this was 22 miles of unpaved, pot holed, dirt road. I enjoyed the drive, but the wife didn’t like it so much; she would’ve been more scared if the GPS didn’t show up exactly where we were.

After about 90 minutes we pulled off Highway (if you can call it that!) 88 and down to the campground along Apache Lake. We pulled into a mesquite grove with limited shade, and I had expected more greenery but I was ok with the site we found. We drove in around 2pm on a Friday and most sites were already filled with people. The flat area below was very crowded and was completely open where you were up against your neighbors, so we opted for a site up the hill a bit. Our site had a large mesquite tree that gave us some shelter, but this also dripped some sap on our camp. Because we were camped near the lake, gnats and mosquitoes were all over the place (but they never bit us). After setting up camp a man two sites over was playing his music loudly but because it was midday and quiet hours weren’t until 10pm, there was nothing we could say.

When researching camp grounds online, I went to http://www.camparizona.com; this site said that I could buy firewood from the host. While we were unpacking the site, the Forest Service came around to check tags. I asked about the firewood and he said the hosts do NOT sell firewood and the closest place to buy it was 16 miles away! Seriously. We also had forgotten some other things, so I made the round trip 32 miles (of which 8 miles were on the Apache Trail). This wasn’t cool, but I was only gone for about 75 minutes.

When camping in AZ we try to find something cooler that the valley, and this was not that place. It was in the 80s and really sunny; at night it dropped to 50s and 60s. One night I wore my fleece and shorts and the other night I only had on my pants and tshirt. In our attempt to go somewhere not to cold, we ended up somewhere almost too warm. That was ok with Claire who immediately was drawn to the beach. It was a sandy beach without fear of rocks. Other little children were sprinkled across it, but to my chagrin, I didn’t realize that Apache Lake doesn’t have limits on boat noise. Believe me that these speed boats was very loud!

If you’re looking for a quiet, peaceful place, this is not it. Also, this place is close to Apache Junction and some of the locals were obviously here. The man with the loud radio, also played it at 1AM. I was just glad we could fall back asleep. By the second night when he was playing the radio again at 2AM, Donna went over to yell at him. The next morning we complained to the Forest Service Ranger who asked him to leave the camp immediately.

Moreover, we did get to do some fishing, but most spots were too choppy from the boats or too shallow. Claire and I walked down the trail to the north side of the camp and found some rocks that dropped of into the lake where she proceeded to reel in a 10″ small mouth bass within minutes. I shot several photos and then tried to catch myself one, but after about an hour we gave up. I was concerned about killing and gutting the fish in front of her, but I wasn’t about to sugar coat it. I was being honest with her, and gutted the fish together, and Mama picked us up.

We spent three days camping here, and I am not about to run back there, but we sure did have a nice time, met some nice people (with a daughter Claire’s age), swam each day, got too much sun, played cards, ate smores, and took naps.

I was there for five days and was able to go to dinner at The House with family friends, we also hit the Empress of China restaurant in Chinatown after a cable car ride, and last night three of us spent most of the night in The Haight and in North Beach. Beautiful time and pictures coming to a Flickr near you (search ours for “cccc09″).