It was raining... oh boy, was it raining last night... I might have guessed though. It's strange, but when you visit another country you will to see each and every thing there. With your lonely planet or rough guide in one hand you're off to each museum, each cool bar or resto mentioned, and then to some more places.
However, when you're living somewhere, you don't seem to bother so much and put things off till the last moment. So, last night, as I stepped out of the tram near the Westermarkt into the pouring rain, I had one goal in mind. I had hoped that I was in luck, but when I walked up to the Anne Frank huis I noticed there was a queue. In the rain, sigh.
I'm glad I did though. You enter the place via the voorhuis; the magazine and upstairs the offices. The achterhuis was a little bit bigger than I had thought. Still small enough I guess for people to get on each nerves from time to time. It's so hard to imagine that people lived here, in hiding. Afraid, careful not to betray their presence, and still trying to have some sort of life. The attic is blocked off right now, but I can imagine that she wanted to go there and have some time to herself.
