Anna Frank

When I was about 12 years old, somebody gave me for my birthday the Dairy of Anna Frank.   At that time, I thought I understood the book; however, it was not until I visited their house that I did not comprehend the magnitude of their ordeal. When you read the book, you picture the small rooms, but until you actually see them, you do not realize how small they were, and how dark and dingy there were.              All those people living in such a close quarters, having to be quiet, with hardly any food to eat, and being afraid all the time.

The first time I went to Amsterdam, I visited the house. After the visit, I bought myself the book, so I can read it as an adult, so I can place the people and the facts into the house, so I can comprehend better how it was. Moreover, until you do not see the bookcase hiding the stairs to their rooms, and the flow of the house, you will not understand how the Germans manage to miss those rooms.

It does not matter what time or day you go to visit the Anna Frank house, there is always a line going around the corner, as there is always people standing across the street, by the canal, just looking at the house, with its dark windows, and you can always see people weeping as they leave the house.

The tree that was in front of the house, that brought so much joy to Ann, is not there any longer, it had been cut because it was disease and they could not save it. I am just happy that I got to see it in my previous trips.

I know when you are on vacation you do not want to see sad places, however, if you are ever in Amsterdam, this is one place you want to see.