Anne's red head rose from the pillow before Gilbert's on that bright and sunny Monday morning. She lay on her side, her dainty chin propped up by a dainty wrist, and gazed at her slumbering husband. For a moment she watched him sleep, admiring the way his tousled curls fell across his forehead. She noted that it was soon time for him to have his hair cut. His longer hair was more reminiscent of his adolescence although the hints of grey at his temples gave away his age. She resisted reaching out a hand to stroke his stubbled chin. After all, Anne did want him to sleep.
Gently and quietly she slipped out of the bed and dressed as quiet as a mouse. She eyed up the disarray which was their trunks. Instead she chose to put off that task in favour of some solitude on the balcony off of their room. Anne pulled apart the sheer drapes, opened the double doors, and with a contented sigh she settled onto one of the outdoor lounge chairs. The stillness of the morning was sublime coupled with the view of the presently quiet canal - and did the trees seem a bit greener this day? After some minutes Anne tip-toed into the room again to retrieve her book. She studied the side of it, the marker still resuming its place, and figured she had another third of it to go. Perhaps Gilbert would really sleep in and she'd get through another significant portion of it.
Alas, it was not to be as ten minutes later Gilbert's voice, still thick from sleep, reached her from the doors to the balcony.
Anne turned her braided head to see him.
"Good morning, darling. How was your sleep?" she cheerfully greeted him.
He yawned and replied, "Oh, very well. Getting in some reading this morning, are we?"
"Mmm - only a little bit. I haven't been up for long," Anne replied. She marked her page and closed the book, revealing its cover.
As she spoke, he stepped barefooted onto the balcony and stooped to wrap an arm around her shoulder.
"Gilbert, you're still dressed in your night clothes," she laughed but offered him a morning kiss regardless, which he accepted readily.
"That I am, Anne-girl," Gilbert concurred with a wide grin. "Oh, you're still chipping away at ol' Shakespeare? At what point are you?"
"Well, Prospero just gave Ferdinand that stern warning regarding Miranda's chastity," Anne simpered.
"Ah yes, a lady must retain her 'virgin-knot' until the big night," Gilbert winked and nudged her gently. "I believe that was the term they used, wasn't it?"
Anne laughed, "Yes, dear - the very one. In any case, it's a good place to stop for now."
"Excellent. I think I'll get shaved and dressed though. We have another busy day ahead of us."
"Alright. While you do that I am going to tackle those trunks," Anne bolstered with narrowed eyes. "The clothing needs sorting quite badly and I want to drop off the washing before we head out."
Gilbert squeezed her shoulder before he straightened and moved back into the room. With a sigh, Anne too stood up and followed him in. Twenty minutes later a dapper Dr. Blythe stood in the center of their room, buttoning up his waist coat and slipping on his suit jacket. Anne had gotten their items somewhat organized; the dirty laundry now piled in the large hamper. Now she was seated in front of the mirror as she assessed herself. She chose to coil her nighttime braid into a low bun and secured it in place with a few pins - quick and easy felt best for the day.
Together they exited their room and moved down to the breakfast room. They shared their final meal with Louis and Klara, who were now branching off for their own journey to Germany. Next their laundry was away for washing and finally they were once again on the street, ready for the day's adventures.
"So, Anne, should we hire bicycles straight away or would you prefer to do that in the afternoon?" Gilbert asked her while they lingered near the door of the guesthouse.
"We may as well rent them yet this morning, Gil. I think I have on my best suited dress. Someone mentioned a flower market that I'd like to explore," Anne said as she slipped her arm into his.
"And we have not seen one windmill yet. Would you be open to an afternoon trip?"
By now they had achieved a brisk walking pace. Anne momentarily twisted her head towards Gilbert and nodded hesitantly before turning her attention back to the walkway ahead of them.
"Do we know how far we need to go? If we need to take a train then I'll need to know how much time I can spend at the market..." Anne trailed as she slowed her steps. Still linked with his wife, Gilbert slowed to a stop and turned to her.
"Well, I suppose we should head back and ask. Are you always this clever, Carrots?" Gilbert teased.
"Dazzlingly," she laughed with a wink.
Anne and Gilbert began their walk back to the guesthouse to make some pertinent inquiries. The man seated behind the desk was happy to plot their last two days and outlined routes on a folded, pocket-sized map. The morning was to be spent on a cycling tour with the floating Bloemenmarkt as their ultimate destination. In the afternoon it was suggested to visit a local working windmill rather than travel to the countryside on a late train. Instead, perhaps they'd be interested in seeing the countryside on their final day with a trip to Delft? Not sure of what was particularly special about the town, Anne and Gilbert quizzed the gentleman who's corresponding answer resulted in Anne vigorously nodding her head in agreement.
They set off on foot, following directions to the nearest bicycle rental shop. Within the hour they were astride their bicycles and Gilbert's face wore a worried look. They were about to take on some busy carriage and automobile rampant streets - and they were not exactly skilled riders.
"Oh Gilbert, we're on the easier route. Where's your sense of adventure?" Anne admonished.
"Mother-of-my-children and love-of-my-life, I don't particularly want to see you run over. Will you at least take the inside track?"
Anne smirked and rolled her eyes, "Very well."
The couple had begun what was at first a leisurely ride, hugging the streets curb a bit tighter than the other cyclists. The road on which they were travelling was not too congested and, after a few minutes of avoiding disaster, both riders relaxed into the beauty of the journey. The warming sun on their faces was a welcome treat. Anne momentarily reminded herself that soon she would need to bring out her wide-brim hat.
Anne and Gilbert continued at their slow and easy pace until they came to a three-way intersection with a canal blocking their ability to continue a straight-through journey. Gilbert signalled to Anne that they were to take a right-hand turn onto the much busier street.
Immediately after the turn, it was obvious that they would be cycling at a faster pace for a good jaunt longer. How was one to keep up the speed of a horse or automobile? During a rare opportunity to glance at Anne, Gilbert noticed her head tossed slightly upward with her eyes and mouth wide with laughter. She clearly enjoyed the experience.
They dodged large piles of horse manure and parked carriages. They maneuvered past the slower riders. This was something that caused both Anne and Gilbert to chuckle with the acknowledgment of their success. If they focused on the obstacles ahead of them, without slipping into oncoming traffic, it was a relatively easy task.
Eventually Gilbert, who had concomitantly navigated by memory, shouted that they were to take the next left-hand turn and merge with another flow of traffic. Both bicycles came to a halt next to one another. They watched and waited for an opportunity to join. It took Gilbert a moment to catch his breath before he looked at Anne and issued the next set of instructions.
"Listen, Anne, I believe we take this left and then a quick right."
"Alright, Gilbert. It looks like there's a clearing here in a few moments," Anne responded.
Several minutes of precise movements had been executed and they found themselves once again on a slower-paced road.
"My heart is racing and I'm not certain that its only from the exertion! That was thrilling!" Anne half gasped and half giggled to Gilbert.
Gilbert grinned back at her. "Thrilling or nerve-wracking. We shouldn't be too far away now and I believe that we're not far from the Palace. May we stop for a moment? I'd like to review the map again."
Anne nodded and they moved towards an empty section of the roadside. Gilbert brought forth the folded map and studied it for a few seconds.
"Ah yes, here we are," he said as he positioned the map so that Anne could observe it as well. "See, the Royal Palace of Amsterdam is just two streets over and then it's not much further to your flower market, sweetheart."
"Splendid, Gilbert. Are you ready to continue?" Anne challenged.
Gilbert let out a deep breath and twisted his upper body before he nodded and resumed his pedalling. They attained their previous pace of cycling, riding for ten more minutes before they reached Dam Square and eventually the Palace. Here they stopped for rest, their bicycles leaned against the pole of a street light. They stood breathing in large gulps of air when, after a period of time, they were able to focus more on the sight in front of them. The brownish-grey stone palace appeared to be nothing to write home about except that there was a magnificently ornate clock tower which stood tall, front and center, for all to admire.
Anne and Gilbert had been quietly studying and admiring the building when voices from a walking tour wafted over to them.
"The rear of the building is most impressive and is the primary reason for the Palace to have once been referred to as the eighth wonder of the world. It is there that you can see Atlas hoisting his heavy load. If he were to ever drop the Heavens, all of Amsterdam would fall as well."
Anne cocked her head towards Gilbert, their eyes communicating in silent conversation. They cycled to the back of the Palace where they were able to view the impressive marble statue of Atlas shouldering a large grey-blue orb otherwise known as the sky.
They rode closer to the building for further inspection. Anne scoured the bronze plaques which described the history of the statue. Gilbert, who had kept his eyes both on their bicycles and to the 'sky', joined her and began to read as well. The couple marvelled at the feature for several more minutes when Gilbert, by now very acquainted with an Anne who needed the occasional prompt, cleared his throat and reminded his wife that they needed to still get to the flower market before lunch.
As they approached their bicycles Gilbert studied the map once again, memorizing the short route to the market. They hopped onto their bicycles and rode off of palace property and back onto the road.
Only five minutes later Anne and Gilbert pedalled up to the bridge adjacent to the floating market.
"Gil, we may have failed to consider where to park our bicycles. Do you suppose someone would steal them?"
"I think that it could likely happen, yes," came Gilbert's reply. "There must be somewhere to leave them."
Two sets of eyes had begun to scan for a spot to store their bicycles when Anne sprouted.
"Gil, over there!" She said pointing to a long row of bicycles parked along the side of a not too distant street.
They slowly cycled through the crowded street towards the bicycle flat. A bored-looking guard stood to one side of it. Anne and Gilbert dismounted from their bicycles and walked towards the man.
"Hello, do you speak English?" Gilbert inquired.
"Yes. Bicycles can be left for three hours with no charge. There are locks available for ten centen," the guard recited.
Gilbert awkwardly glanced around for an area to pay for the locks. Not finding one he finally asked, "Do we pay you?"
"Yes," the guard stated as he held out his hand. "Locks and keys are already there."
Gilbert dug into his pocket for the coins and placed them into the waiting hand. Anne and Gilbert watched as the guard pocketed the currency. Somewhat alarmed and shocked, they guided their bicycles to two side-by-side parking stalls.
"I think we just were scammed, Gil," Anne lowly murmured as she bent to place the lock around the tire.
"You thought so, too? Ah well, at least it wasn't much," Gilbert replied as he completed the same task to his bicycle.
They took note of their stall numbers, placed the keys deep into Gilbert's trouser pocket, and made their way back to the entrance of the market. Together they explored the various booths which were set up on the grand Singel canal. The market was primarily filled with various souvenir shops - everything and anything tulip related - and a handful of flower booths. The seasonality of their visit meant that there were no fresh flowers to be had however there were crates and crates of tulip bulbs to purchase.
Anne explored the tables, happily chatting with the merchants and perusing the various colours, while Gilbert meandered behind her with his hands stuffed into his pockets. Gilbert's watch read 11:19 when Anne announced that she had a sufficient assortment of bulbs in her brown paper bag. The couple walked the busy pathways and once again found the entrance - now the exit.
"Do you think we should send these home with our pots?" Anne questioned her husband, as they stepped up onto the walkway and off of the busy street.
"We may as well. It'd be one less item for us to haul around from place to place," Gilbert responded conversationally.
"Yes, but they need to stay dry, Gilbert," Anne expressed with worry in her voice.
"Anne-girl, I'd say that they'd stand a better chance stowed away safely on a ship than with us. We are in Europe in the spring. We are more likely to have rain destroy them," Gilbert declared. In truth, he wasn't as confident as he sounded.
"Oh, look who's changed their tune now, Gilbert. We couldn't ship books home but tulip bulbs are apparently another thing entirely." Anne replied, somewhat haughtily.
Gilbert turned and moved closer to Anne, his voice low. "Yes, Anne, I appreciate to your argument - but it is bothersome to haul all of it across all of Europe."
Anne stood quietly as she chewed on her lip. She pondered internally for a moment or two before she chose to agree with her husband.
Gilbert softy continued, "I can see it's important to you, Anne. We'll pack them properly and I am certain that they'll be in their prime for planting."
Anne released a sigh and offered a small smile. "Thank you, Gilbert. Well now, we still have to make it back to the room and I, for one, am very thirsty. Shall we have lunch before we head back?"
Gilbert nodded and they wandered for a time, eventually being drawn towards the aromas which wafted from Restaurant Haesje Claes. Anne and Gilbert entered into the building, choosing a table within the warm comforts of indoors. They were greeted by a smiling young woman whom reviewed and translated the menu selections. It was not yet quite the busy time for lunch although the waitress, who spoke very fluent English, had commented that within the hour not a table would be found available.
Immediately each of them filled their tumblers from the pitcher of water.
Once their food had been served they ate leisurely, each enjoying the quiet of the restaurant. At the end of the meal Anne quietly announced that she was in need of the ladies toilet and sought out the waitress once more to ask for the directions. When Anne returned her grey eyes twinkled and her lips were raised in a sly smile. Gilbert soon learned that the toilet was located on the upper level and was then bid to find it for himself. So, he marched up the stairs with a questioning expression on his handsome face - and similarly to Anne, he returned with wide eyes and laughter upon his lips. What it was that they saw, they'd never say.
They strolled to the bicycle flat. They shot narrowed side-eyed glances towards the guard. If Anne were thirteen again she would have stuck out her tongue to him. Anne and Gilbert laughingly began their ride back to the guesthouse to drop off their parcels and freshen up. With their bicycles parked in the garden, Anne Gilbert slipped into the house via the back door.
In their room, Anne placed the bag of tulip bulbs onto the desk. She then swapped out her hat, smoothing her hair back in the process. Gilbert had found a comfortable seated position on the bed with his back supported by the voluptuous pillows and feet crossed at the ankle. He had to be moved by force.
"Gilbert," Anne said sternly, as she approached the edge of the bed, "you know that we must keep going..."
She grabbed both of his hands in hers and attempted to pull him off of the bed. Gilbert's eyes twinkled and he raised an eyebrow at her in challenge. Anne's second pull did even less than her first one.
"Gilbert!"
Gilbert groaned as he relented and came to his feet. "Alright, alright. I just want to warn you that that bed is not suitable for those who cannot stay. It is far too comfortable."
Anne looked at him and replied dryly, "Oh, what problems you have, Doctor."
Gilbert tightened his loosened tie and winked at her.
The Blythes moved back to the garden, mounted their bikes and took to the streets again - this time traveling in the direction of the De Gooyer windmill.
Anne and Gilbert cycled the twenty minutes from their Brouwersgracht nest to the old flour mill located between Funenkade and Zeeburgerstraat, which sat on the edge of the city. For many minutes traveling by map was not necessary; the windmill rose high above the buildings as if it were a beacon.
They approached the mill, their bicycles abandoned at the base of it. Anne and Gilbert climbed the old stairs which ran up the stone foundation. Upon the door was a sign which read "Geen Rondleidingen Toegestaan." Not able to read nor speak Dutch, Anne and Gilbert rapped on the door. A pudgy middled-aged woman answered, speaking in Dutch and pointing to the sign. They grimaced and shook their heads before Gilbert asked about English.
"No tours of the mill," the woman answered simply.
Disappointed, Anne's face fell. Why would this mill be suggested if they weren't able to tour through?
The woman stood in the doorway and sighed. "My husband is tired of the tourists. But, he is not here today. Come in. I will finish my work and show you around," she said in broken English.
The couple offered a grateful smile along with simple words of thanks. They stepped across the threshold and into the octagon-shaped mill where they were shown to two wooden chairs tucked along the side of a wall. Anne and Gilbert sat expectantly and watched as the woman turned back to her work. She scooped flour into three tightly woven cotton sacks, each with a simple windmill design printed on it. The bin had been emptied and the sacks tied when she turned back to her surprise guests. The woman wiped her hands on her already very dusty apron, adjusted her bonnet, and waddled her way to a nearby shelf. She reached into a folder and procured two leaflets. The woman handed them to Anne and Gilbert and stated, "I kept extra."
Anne and Gilbert glanced down at the papers. They outlined the history of the windmill, which was built in the 1600s and still stood as the tallest windmill in all of the Netherlands.
Gilbert looked up from his page. "The mill still produces large quantities of flour?"
The woman's face crumpled into a frown as she slowly shook her head. "No. It is all breaking down. Too old. My husband is gone to discuss shutting it down."
Her features began to crumple further as she fought back tears. In sympathy, Anne's face crumpled as well.
"Is there nothing that can be done?" she softly asked.
Another shake of the head. "The mill is old. Amsterdam will decide on what happens with it."
"Well then, perhaps it can be made into a monument," Gilbert said as he glanced down at his leaflet again. "It has some incredible history."
The woman nodded and wiped her eyes. "Perhaps. Come, I will show you around now."
Anne and Gilbert followed the woman around the interior of the mill and learnt all about flour grinding, flour storage, and the power of wind. Next they were toured past the exterior of the mill. The windmill was not at all as Anne had imagined. The wooden octagon shape was painted a dull brown. It certainly did not boast the bold colours as on the postcards they'd seen. This had truly been a working and producing mill for nearly three hundred years.
It was 3:00 in the afternoon when the tour ended at the bottom of the mill. Standing on the walkway, the woman extended her hand in order to shake Anne and Gilbert's.
"Dank je. That may have been the last time I show the mill to people."
"How much do we pay you?" Gilbert hedged.
"None. It was free today."
Anne glanced at Gilbert. He dug into his pocket for some loose guilder and offered it to the woman.
"No, we insist," Gilbert encroached, his arm still extended.
The woman muttered her thanks twice and eventually accepted the payment. Hand in hand, Anne and Gilbert retreated back to their bicycles.
"What now, dearest?" Anne asked with a happy flit in her voice as she swung their hands.
"If it is suitable for you, Anne, I think I'd like to rest back in the room for a while," he requested.
Anne peered at him with concern. "Certainly, Gilbert," she replied. "Besides, we still have to deliver the bicycles. Are you quite well, Gil?"
"By all means. All of this activity has left me rather drained though," Gilbert said as he mounted his bicycle.
The Blythes back-tracked most of the way but deviated to return to the rental shop. Their bicycles returned, they lazily wandered the route to the guesthouse. Gilbert claimed his spot on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Anne attended to the rest of the packing, setting out an over night bag in which she packed their essentials for their train to Germany. She then secured the flower pots, tulip bulbs and their other odds and ends in preparation for shipping. Next she organized the post cards and letters, tidying them into a pile on the desk next to her gloves.
Anne slipped out of the door and descended the stairs to the kitchen. The chef was preparing for dinner once again. A 'pot of tea and something sweet' was cordially requested and provided. With her tea tray in hand, Anne made her way back up to the room and out onto the balcony. She set the tray on the bistro table, poured herself a cup of creamy tea, and hunkered down for relaxing afternoon of reading.
The sun was beginning to lower, in the slightest, when Anne closed her book with a sigh. 'Finished, at last,' she thought to herself. Her next thought was the realization that the sun was beginning to set and Gilbert must still be asleep. She opened the doors back to the room and moved to the side of the bed and reached out a hand to gently shake Gilbert's shoulder.
"Gil - it's time to wake up," she murmured softly. His eyes fluttered open and met hers. She leaned in to place a sweet kiss along his cheekbone. "You must have needed that. But, it's time that we get ready for dinner."
Anne dressed in a nicer evening gown and fixed her hair into a new style. Gilbert rinsed his mouth, straightened his outfit, and ran a comb through his hair. Looking as fresh as a pair of daisies, they sauntered down to the dining room and joined their fellow house guests for a dinner of snert and braised lamb with potatoes.
After dinner, Anne and Gilbert returned to their room to add an extra layer to their bodies. An easy evening stroll along the canals of Amsterdam, the last one they would take, rounded out their evening.
When they returned the room Anne sat in the tub with Gilbert kneeling on the floor at her head. He lathered the soap into his beloveds hair; mesmerized by the cascade of red as he rinsed it. After several minutes of luxurious soaking Anne stepped out of the tub, towelled off, and slipped into her robe. As more hot water was added to the tub, Gilbert undressed and took Anne's former position in the tub. Seated on the floor, his wife leaned over him and massaged his scalp in circular motions.
Before Gilbert opened his eyes the next morning he could feel the sting at the back of his throat. He swallowed once, twice, and even a third time in a hope that it would recede. The actions only served to make it worse. He managed to audibly groan; at his luck or at the pain, he didn't know. He shifted his head on the pillow to find Anne still sleeping. The rigours of travel had evidently taken its toll; however, they had fallen into a glorious sleeping routine. Anne lay next to him, her nightgown hitched up to her thighs, with one knee hooked around his leg. Ignoring the increasing pain in his throat, he smiled. As if she felt his gaze, Anne woke with a start. They quietly conversed with each other and Gilbert downplayed the very obvious "tickle in his throat."
Anne's face quirked into her 'Mother knows best' look and reached out a hand to feel his forehead. Inspite of her shared years with the Doctor, Anne had always viewed Gilbert through a filter - the best friend that knew his weaknesses and strengths better than anyone else.
"Hmm, it is a bit warm, Gil."
"Well, Anne, we are quite snug under this quilt," he lamented.
With a sigh, Anne relented and extricated herself from the bed.
"Alright then, Gilbert. If you say you're well, you'd know. Come, help me finish with these trunks - and we still have to collect the laundry. We've a train to catch!"
Sometime later they stood in the foyer arranging a buggy to transport them first to the post office and next to the train station. Anne released a silent prayer for the safe delivery of their items. By 9:00 they were weaving their way through the thick crowds at Amsterdam Centraal Station with the ticket counter in their sight.
Once onboard the train, both Anne and Gilbert heaved a sigh of relief as they took their seats. They chatted quietly back and forth. Anne commented that by now they children must have received their first round of letters. The conversation on family and home continued until Anne turned her head towards the window and allowed a few tears to escape from her eyes. The public setting prevented Gilbert from soothing Anne in his usual ways so instead he reached for her hand and stroked it with his thumb. Besides, he reasoned, a part of him loved seeing Anne miss their children.
Some moments of silence passed as they gazed out onto the Dutch countryside. The windmills had begun spotting up along the horizon; their expansive blades cut through the air against the bright morning sky. Fields of brown had begun to show peaks of green, although of what plant it was difficult to discern.
The comforting motion on her hand had stopped and Anne looked to Gilbert. His head was tipped back and eyes were closed. He had already nodded off. So, Anne reached into the bag for her stationary in order to pen a few letters to home; in each one she added in an apology for the less-than-perfect cursive that came with writing letters on a train.
It was just after noon when the train made it's slow crawl into the Delft Railway Station. Gilbert had been roused from his sleep an hour into the journey and spent the remaining two hours chatting with the passengers across from them.
The Blythes alighted from the train to once again find the station's counter. Gilbert engaged in some simply worded discussion with the obliging station manager. It was arranged that their trunks were to be stored at the station for the day.
The famished couple flagged down a buggy and asked the driver to direct them first to a restaurantje. Anne and Gilbert were dropped off where the Koornmarkt and Voldersgracht canals intercepted, which appeared to be a hub for eateries and teahouses.
They strolled along the picturesque street and ducked into the first restaurant they could find.
"In earnest, Gilbert, how are you really?" Anne tenderly asked as they took their seats at their designated table.
"That lengthy conversation on the train did not improve it," Gilbert admitted with a rasp in his voice. "But, it's manageable."
His expert fingers gently prodded his own throat in inspection.
"Hmm, somewhat swollen. However, that's to be expected. I believe I'll have tea with honey, Anne-girl."
"Very well, darling. Have you supplies for a plaster?"
Gilbert shook his head. "No, I only brought along the very basics."
"We will have to seek out a pharmacy - or an apothecary, then. I have no intention of being on that train without supplies, Gilbert," Anne decided. "I hope that you know the names in Dutch." She finished with a lopsided smile.
Gilbert, whom was seated across from her, was perusing the menu. He chuckled and winced at the pain. At that moment the waitress returned to their table to collect their orders of tea with honey, soup, and sandwiches.
When their simple meal was complete, Anne and Gilbert once again hired a buggy. At Anne's insistence they first sought out a nearby pharmacy. The driver was instructed to wait for them along the street in order to continue on to the famed Delftware factory.
The errand to pick up supplies took more time than Gilbert had anticipated. The containers of powders appeared to be recognizable; however, the attending pharmacist struggled to translate the items. An uneasy Dr. Blythe finally collected the items onto the counter as his brain wracked over his concerns. Gilbert hadn't been invited to a prestigious medical congress without reason; he knew very well that many drugs had very similar appearances and aromas but were very different when used. Still, Anne stepped out of the pharmacy feeling better prepared than she did entering it.
Back on the street, Anne and Gilbert were quick to discover that the driver had lost his patience and abandoned his passengers.
Anne laughed while Gilbert scoffed. "It appears that he had better things to do than wait for us," she said.
"Well, he didn't get paid for waiting for us. That would be his loss," a grouchy Gilbert remarked with his hands on his hips.
The street was quiet and so Anne felt comfortable running her hands around his ribs, enveloping him in a gentle hug. Easing into the embrace, Gilbert wrapped his strong arms around her. There they stood, outside of the pharmacy, rocking back and forth. A few moments later they pulled apart to hunt down their next buggy.
Twenty-five minutes later a much friendlier driver delivered Anne and Gilbert to curb outside of the De Delftse Pauw, the factory in which the hand-painted, blue and white glazed earthenware was made. They stepped through the narrow entry way and into what was immediately understood to be the show room and gift shop. Shelves upon shelves of pottery glistened. Without thought, Anne abandoned Gilbert's side and began to browse through the various items. The bell that had chimed when they entered brought forth a middle-aged man dressed in a stained apron.
"Hallo," the man said, as he came around the counter to where Anne stood
"Oh, hello. Do you speak English?"
"Yes. Welcome to our store. As you can see, we have a large selection of china."
"Ah yes, it is tempting," Anne said as she began to again admire the tulip vase in front of her. "We are from Canada and shipping breakables has been an ongoing conversation between myself and my husband." Anne gestured to Gilbert, whom had come to stand at her side.
The shopkeeper only nodded his head.
Gilbert's strained voice piped up, "Well Anne, I made the assumption that we were going to make a purchase."
Both Anne's and the shopkeepers eyes lit up at this remark.
"Very well," the man said. "But perhaps you'd first like to take the tour of the factory? It is given freely when you make a purchase."
Anne and Gilbert nodded and followed the gentleman around the counter and through another door.
"We only use white baking clay, which we bring in from Germany."
They walked into another room where rows and rows of moulds were arranged. The shopkeeper detailed the moulding process and then lead them into another room in which the pottery was stored to dry before being placed into a kiln to be fired. Finally they were showed to third and larger room. Five rows of workbenches stretched the expanse of the room.
"This is where each piece is hand-painted and then glazed. Most people are surprised to know we use black paint - it takes on the blue shade during the second firing in the kiln."
Anne and Gilbert observed the painters for a few moments before they were shown through another door, which opened back into the gift shop.
Anne returned to her item of interest. The tulip vase was painted with a Dutch landscape which featured a windmill in the center of it.
"I think I'd like this one, Gilbert. And perhaps one of those plates, over there," she said.
Gilbert nodded, choosing to save his voice for essential words only.
An hour later, they were back at the Delft Railway Station. The shopkeeper had wrapped the pieces as securely as possible, yet on the drive to the station Anne still clasped the items close to her chest.
"We'll need to intercept our trunks before they're placed onto the next train," here she lowered her voice. "I am going to wrap these in my petticoats."
With the pieces of china discretely and carefully packed away in Anne's trunk, Anne and Gilbert boarded their train; this one a short journey destined for Rotterdam before switching to the night-train to Cologne.
In Rotterdam, Anne found a porter to assist with transferring their luggage from the arrival platform to the departing one. The connecting time at the station was tight and they had to move quickly to make it on time. The final "All Aboard" call was announced just as Anne and Gilbert had dashed onto the train. They carried their hand luggage, Gilbert with his ever-present black bag and Anne with their over-night bag, and located yet another sleeper cabin.
Gilbert by now had almost entirely lost his voice. While Anne settled their belongings in the room Gilbert reached for the hand-held mirror. He held it in front of his face, opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and attempted to peer into the dark recesses of his own oral cavity.
Anne, who had turned to place her brush onto the shelf, saw this and scoffed.
"Gilbert, come here. Let me," she insisted.
Gilbert mutely put the mirror down and stepped towards her.
"Sit on the bed, please, and open your mouth," she demanded. So, Dr. Blythe consented to the procedure and did as she asked.
"Hmmm. It's difficult to see. Here, come closer to the light."
They moved closer to the door and Anne pulled out the folded chair, which she found tucked into a corner.
She opened it up and bid Gilbert to sit. She held his face and tilted it to the light.
"Oh yes, Gil. It looks positively terrible in there. Your uvula has to be twice its normal size," she described to him, her fingers gently prodded under his jaw.
"Perhaps influenza or perhaps just a head cold," he squawked.
"I suppose we wait to see if it gets worse. Do you feel up to going to the dining car or-?"
"Yes, but I don't think I should stay there for long," Gilbert croaked the interjection. It was in Anne's nature to have lengthy discussions about anything and everything but certainly she could understand the need to rest his voice.
They moved along the train's aisle to the dining car where they sipped on warm soup and cool water. A small bowl of honey, accompanied by a teaspoon, was procured and brought to the cabin. Anne also managed to fill a tumbler with salted water and sent Gilbert to the washroom to gargle and wash up.
At the very early hour of seven-fifteen that evening, Anne and Gilbert Blythe were dressed and ready to retire for the night. Gilbert fed himself a teaspoon of honey and climbed into his bed. Anne dimmed the lantern low enough for Gilbert to fall asleep but bright enough for Anne to read. She resumed her spot of the top bed and handed down her pillow after Gilbert complained that his head required a greater elevation.
You'd be surprised how much of Amsterdam's tourism has changed in the last century. The many sights that visitors flock to are relatively new. For example, Keukenhof Gardens did not exist. Zaanse Schans did not exist. Rembrandt House was not open for tours. Van Gogh Museum = non-existent. Obviously Anne Frank's House was nothing important in 1905. There was the Rijksmuseum but I have a hard time picturing Anne and Gilbert shuffling around museums for hours on end. No, their characters certainly feel more like the "find your own adventure" type.