Invading Canada and Invading the Market

Yesterday, I visited the Chateau Ramezay which has a storied history of being the residence of Montreal's governor in 1717, Ramezay (for which the chateau was named), the home of subsequent French West Indies Company, British invaders and administrators, and even a seven-month stint as the wartime headquarters of the Continental Army during the American Revolution. As such, it has exhibits that explained the history of early Montreal and showed a diorama of the Iroquois village that likely existed before European settlement. It then moved on to the early founders of Montreal and those that transformed Montreal into a industrious colony of France that centered mainly around the lucrative fur trade, especially of beaver pelts. After the exhibits dealing with the fur trade, Montreal's first influential citizens, and how they dealt with and traded with the native people, they showed artifacts such as British officer uniforms and the like to show Montreal's invasion and subsequent surrender to British forces. Of course, being a citizen of the United States and going through the trouble of obtaining an American Studies concentration, I found it especially entertaining learning of the Chateau Ramezay's time in the possession of the Continental Army. According to the audio tour, the only thing that kept the colony loyal to Great Britain was Great Britain's own strategy of preemptively placating Montreal's main complaints against the crown in 1774. Alternatively, it may also have been the small pox ravaging the American forces attacking Quebec, but in either theory the result was that Canada did not become the fourteenth state of our great union.

While the Chateau Ramezay was my main objective for the day, I also happened upon two unexpected places while trying to return to my metro station through the labyrinth of city construction project, closed roads and sidewalks, and detours. First I encountered the Mache Bonsecours a building that has served as a public market, a concert hall, Montreal's city hall, and even the Parliament of Lower Canada. It became a permanent public market in 1859 and today it houses a dozen or so boutique stores, a tiny museum, and a few restaurants. Technically I visited this site second, but the first photos I took were with my phone and so you will have to scroll all the way to the bottom to see its beautiful grey dome. I visited each of the little boutiques and enjoyed a productive, if expensive, shopping day that included some handmade crafts from Canada's local native peoples and a special tea sold here called Icewine Tea, which I am excited to try when I return home. Luckily a quick call home prevented me from dropping a few hundred dollars on a fur scarf or fur "hat ring" (it wasn't going to be for me, but I thought it looked nice). Either way, I enjoyed walking through the trendy, narrow hallways of the boutique mall and I felt good about buying certified Canadian handicrafts rather than "Canadian" souvenirs made in China.

The third location was the tiny Notre-Dame-De-Bon-Secours (sharing the last part of its name with the market) whose beauty is better expressed by pictures, so enjoy!

Traveling Through the Biodome and Traveling with New Friends

Today included a journey through three different ecosystems, a four-hour wait in line to see said ecosystems, and a trip through the dark past of my Jewish heritage. All in all, it was an exciting and expansive day. To the great relief of my mental state while waiting in that line (it was Montreal Museum Day and free museums equates to disturbingly long lines) I was joined by a fellow Magellanite, Jess, who just happened to have picked the same dates and city as me. After a sweltering wait in the heat and beaming sun, we were welcomed into the ecosystem of the tropics. Almost a cruel joke to leave the heat of outside, enter the air-conditioned lobby, and return to an even more hot and humid area, Jess joked that making the tropical ecosystem the first upon entry a design flaw.

After journeying through the humid heat of the tropics, the next ecosystem of the Biodome was a Laurentian Maple Forest that was thankfully cooler. In each of the ecosystems, we were surprised to see as many animals as we did. We had both thought the Biodome was part arboretum and part greenhouse, we had no idea that actual animals were present and we were happy to find out that we had stepped into a miniature zoo as well.

After our minor bout of dehydration and sunburn (some people suffered more than I did), we ate at a diner, realized our trip to the Biodome had hemorrhaged our time more than expected for the day and decided we could only make one of the two museums we had wanted to go to for the rest of the day. To put the time spend waiting for and wandering through the Biodome into perspective, we started out at a little earlier than 10:00 AM, and by the time we had sat down to hydrate and eat lunch (the first time either of us had eaten anything all day up until that point) it was past 3:00 PM.

The Biodome from a distance

Humble Beginnings and Humble Buses

First off, I would like to say that exchanging a simple hour or so flight (even though the shortest would have taken about two and a half hours due to a layover between Toronto and Montreal) for about 24 hours of bus travel was a mistake. A great, money-saving, mistake. Granted, the $200 plus dollars I spent on busing here saved me plenty of money to do more in Montreal, but I never understood the emptiness of bus travel until today. My convoluted journey from Pittsburgh to Montreal was by way of  Pittsburgh to Youngstown, Youngstown to Buffalo, Buffalo to Syracuse, Syracuse to Ottawa, and Ottawa to Montreal. That ordeal included the use of five buses, a five hour layover in the most barren bus station known to man in Youngstown, and a route that started by taking me further from my destination. It made getting to Montreal all the sweeter when I finally arrived, and offered a much different experience that my previous flights.

Even though I fear this is more of the same, I feel it necessary to describe what I meant by a "barren bus station" in Youngstown. To start off, I am pretty sure that the bus station was actually closed for the majority of the time I was waiting there, and the single guard there was friendly enough to let me stay. There were no restaurants, tiny convenience stores, or any of the usual fare you would expect of a bus station or airport terminal. Instead, besides the central circular desk that was the pulpit of the armed guard, the station's interior has a semicircle of about 7 or 8 vending machines that ranged from the usual snacks and drinks,to a coffee vending machine that reminded me far too much of the one from Better Call Saul's opening episodes. After I had been sitting there for maybe a half hour, the guard suggested I get food from a deli a couple blocks away and told me he would be watching for me to unlock the doors for me when I returned. I happily obliged, and when I got to the "deli" which is deserving of its dubious quotations, I was surprised to see it was a deli/convenience store. Apparently in Youngstown, Ohio, a deli/convenience store equates to fried chicken, cigarettes, a shocking amount of booze, and admittedly, a pretty solid convenience store component. I was a little upset not to be getting pastrami or corned beef on rye, but at least I was able to buy some premade pepperoni rolls and use their microwave. Then I returned to the station, realized I had to kill four more hours on a backless bench, and promptly drained 80% of my cell phone's battery watching That 70's Show while balancing my phone on a window sill and sitting backwards on a bench.

Lake Ontario after we crossed the border.

About This Trip

I abandoned my standard naming scheme, partly because it is hard to come up them sometimes and partly because this indicated more of an informative tone than one about my adventure. So for the about me part and the explanation of what a Magellan Project is in the first place, I would like to refer you to two previous posts under my Malta Magellan Project label. Even though I like to think I did a good job in explaining what a Magellan Project is in the past, that tells you little about why I undertook this specific one to Amsterdam. In the simplest terms, my Magellan Project was to visit areas of Jewish Heritage in Amsterdam, understand the difficulties the Jews and the average Dutchman faced under Nazi occupation, and to see firsthand both the contributions the Jews had made to the city of Amsterdam and see the Dutch "freedom of conscious" which allowed all faiths to practice freely long before any other European nation albeit quietly.

If that was not long enough of a history lesson or reason to satisfy you, here is also an excerpt from my original proposal to visit Amsterdam referring to World War II and the Holocaust :

Unsurprisingly, Jews with the means to leave Germany left as swiftly as they could to any country that would take them. The Netherlands, again, showed its sympathy and willingness to help the persecuted Jews from Germany and Austria and took in between 25,000 to 34,000 Jewish refugees. At this time, the Jewish population of the Netherlands represented two percent of The Netherland’s total population, even before they took in the refugees. Unfortunately, Hitler’s hatred of the Jews compared only with Hitler’s thirst for conquest and by 1941, the Netherlands had fallen under Nazi occupation.

            Even under occupation, the Dutch showed remarkable compassion towards its fellow Jewish citizens. Despite the difficulty to hide Jews in the most densely populated country in Europe, many heroic Dutch took it upon themselves to attempt to hide their Jewish neighbors wherever they could. The most famous case of which is the diarist Anne Frank hiding in the attic of a Dutch family alongside her sister Margot. The Dutch were also the first in all of Nazi-occupied Europe to directly rebel against the inhuman treatment of their Jews in the February Strike. This showed that even the Dutch non-Jews understood the plight that the Jews of the Netherlands were facing.

During this time, most Jews were living in Amsterdam which is why this is the destination that my project will focus on. My project is to chronicle, visit, and reflect on the religious tolerance the Dutch have willingly granted to the persecuted Jews of Europe as well as Dutch resistance to the Nazi’s savage attempts to slaughter the Jews within the Netherlands. My travels will include the Anne Frank House, as well as different Jewish museums and those that relay the history of the Dutch resistance to Nazi rule. I also plan to attend a service in one of the Netherland’s many synagogues. The beauty of the Netherlands lies in its explicit desire to be accepting to all religious creeds. In the 1900s Netherlands was referred to as the “Jerusalem of the West” by its Jews, and to this day, the Netherlands remains a destination that is welcoming and accepting of its Jewish population."

If you have any questions please let me know, but in this goal I feel that I have succeeded in seeing all I wished to see. To see the everyday plight under occupation, I went to the Verzetsmuseum, to see Jewish heritage in Amsterdam, I went to the Portuguese Synagogue, the Jewish Historical Center, and the Diamond Museum, and finally to see the most popularized example of a neighbor attempting to save a Jewish neighbor, I went to the Anne Frank House. All in all, my goals were set and they were accomplished.

Exploring the Annex and Exploring the Seas

In yet another strange mashup of events in our daily outings, we chose to see one of the most popular tourist traps in all of Amsterdam, the Anne Frank House, and the National Maritime Museum. We went to the maritime museum first, knowing how long and miserable the line to the Anne Frank House would be. In a strange building with a glass roofed courtyard, the Maritime Museum had different sections pertaining to the Dutch history of the slave trade and the Dutch West and East India Companies, a whole section just on whaling, a collection of historical navigational instruments, a collection of art with themes on the sea or Dutch sailing, and finally an outside area with a replica Dutch trading ship and an authentic Royal barge. It was all very interesting, but there is not a whole lot I can personally add to the experience.

Then we set off for our pilgrimage to Amsterdam's tourist nightmare of the Anne Frank House's line. For some reason, despite warm temperatures earlier in the day (and every day before and after that exact period of time) the weather was horrible. It was in the mid-50s, gusting winds in every direction that refused to cease, and with periodic cold, drizzling rain accenting the lovely experience of waiting in the cold for hours. I am not proud of myself, but I strongly considered giving up. Luckily the resolve of my friend and the foresight to know I would feel the pangs of regret if I did not visit the epitome of what I had gone to Amsterdam to research allowed me to steel my resolve and kept me standing in that line for the remaining three hours. Of course, no pictures were allowed which was understandable yet annoying. So in its stead I have pictures of the outside of the building and of the statue of Anne Frank that they have outside of their photophobic venue. Everyone pretty much knows the story of Anne Frank and her family's unsuccessful attempt to flee Germany, and then their unsuccessful attempt to hide in a hidden annex in the densely populated city of Amsterdam, so I will not delve into much more than that.

 However, I feel that more so than the artifacts they presented, the story of the young girl they tried to present as both a saint while reminding everyone how much she "was not a saint" and merely one of millions of victims, the most emotionally gripping thing was at the end of the museum. At the end, one of the last things they show you is a screen with a projector showing you they final thoughts and quotes written in the guestbook from famous actors, directors, and regular people. The final thoughts by Jewish actress Natalie Portman, and Jewish director Steven Spielberg were especially gripping knowing that they undoubtedly have a deeper knowledge and sense of loss when viewing the history of the Holocaust. Even strangers and tourists they simply interviewed and put in the video had such strong convictions in never allowing such a heinous act like the Nazi persecution happen, it really helped to personally give me faith that despite the evidence of growing antisemitism, good people will not be as silent and compliant as they had in years past. As a Jew and history student, hearing those words from average people means the world to me - and of all the things in the Anne Frank House, that is what stood out most to me.

First the pictures from the Maritime Museum, also called the Het Scheepvaartmuseum (quite a mouthful, right?)

Dominant City and Dominant Towers

Now the seemingly strange title of this post has to do with the main attraction of this city. For the final installment of the day trips we took to escape Amsterdam we went to the beautiful city of Utrecht. Utrecht was originally a commanding, Catholic bastion of power in the Spanish Netherlands.

The city's main attraction was the Dom Church and the Dom Tower. They were originally connected by a large nave, but after a powerful storm that became a tornado in 1674, it was completely destroyed. The rubble remained where it was for two hundred years, unable to fund a restoration of a grand Catholic church after the Protestant Reformation and unable to clear the debris. Eventually, the turned the area between the Dom Tower and the remainder of the church into a square, uncreatively called Dom Square. The town is very possibly the oldest settlement in the Netherlands, under the foundations of the Dom Church, also called Domkerk, they found remnants of a Roman fortress, a missionary's church, all built atop one another's ruins. The history of the land beneath the Domkerk was uniquely explored in yet another Dom-named museum named Dom Under. We were shown the archeological dig site beneath the church while being told the history of the city and of the land we stand on. We were given lanterns that were outfitted with an audio tour that used light-activated access points.

While waiting for our tour of the Dom Tower to begin, we entered an did a self-guided tour in the Dom Church. Despite asking for donations, which we were glad to offer, the tour was completely free and I even lit a candle in mourning in one of the oldest, most incredible churches in the Netherlands. We went through the church pretty quickly, but it was interesting to learn that Mozart had once played the Domkerk organ. Finally we left to begin our tour of the Dom Tower. The views were amazing, the height was immense for such an old construction, and the 465 stairs I was forced to climb was probably the most exercise I have had in my lifetime.

But before I show all the pictures I took of the many Dom-themed attractions, I would like to show you the photos of this gorgeous monument to the Jewish victims of the Holocaust I happened to find in front of Utrecht's train museum. It was, what I think was, a granite wall with the names of the victims engraved along with a stature of a shofar, which is a rams horn which is very important in the Jewish religion especially near high holidays.

Safe Houses and a Safe Haarlem

Part two of my three part series on the little daytrips my colleague and I took to escape the crowds of Amsterdam took part in Haarlem. Amazingly different from our Harlem, which steals this gorgeous city's name, we spent an entire day without incident. Try doing the same thing walking around our Harlem for hours on end as a tourist, I am sure that the experience would be much different.

 So moving on without our mugging, shooting, gang-affiliated visit to the Dutch Haarlem, we visited quite a few sites. My favorite would have to be the De Adriaan Windmill. After all these years, they still use it to mill grain on special occasions and have professional, college-educated millers on staff. Luckily, we also enjoyed the presence of a worldly, humorous, and spontaneous tour guide who managed to educate, engage, amuse, and insult the members of the six person tour group. That combination led to a consistently positive experience in which everyone there was ear to ear grinning. In her questions to the group, I was able to get two answers right from a silent group, one of my correct answers was especially lauded. She said to me that in her decades of doing this, I was only the second or third to give the right answer. So obviously I was flattered. The windmill tour itself was interesting, sure, but without our particular guide I fear that it would not have been the memorable, incredible experience that it was.

First View from out of the train station.

Here are the photos from the De Adriaan Windmill.