Well Hello!

 Amsterdam & Berlin

What started as a quick trip to shake off the January blues somehow turned into a near week-long adventure. London to Amsterdam, then Amsterdam to Berlin.

Travelling with kids is always… interesting. This time was no different. The youngest traveller made it very clear from our first train journey (Kent, UK) that the rucksack he’d been allocated would absolutely not be going on his back. Naturally, it ended up on one of ours. First lesson of the trip: we have unknowingly raised travel princes. And travel princes they remain.

As all trips abroad do, ours began with the long and fairly dull journey to the airport. London Luton Airport. I did think to myself that at no point, other than when describing the airport, would I put London and Luton in the same geographical bracket. It’s a good 30 miles away. But who am I to argue? We allowed it on this occasion.

Luton Airport is small. Don’t expect your usual shopping and dining experience, it’s limited. We did, however, find a good plane spotting position and entertained the youngest traveller watching take offs and landings.

The flight (EasyJet), booked through OPODO (never again), was short and sweet. Just over an hour. By the time the snack trolley came around, we were preparing to land.
The OPODO issue wasn’t the price, that was great. It was the subscription you’re required to sign up for. Cancelling it proved nearly impossible. Hours of trying. No success. Lesson learned.
We landed in Amsterdam. The airport felt compact and calm, well as calm as an airport can be. Our hotel The Corendon Amsterdam Schiphol Airport Hotel offered a free shuttle, which immediately earned bonus points. This made the next bit of our journey super smooth.

Thankfully, the hotel was lovely. Three rose arches lined the entrance walkway to the lifts, balloons floating about, naturally, a photo was required. Naturally, I got my bag stuck and nearly dragged the entire display towards reception. Big bags and tiredness are never a good mix.
Our room was a spacious apartment. We genuinely lucked out. All accommodation was booked through Expedia reasonably priced, good quality, hassle-free. One website we’ll happily use again.

Amsterdam is a naughty but beautiful city.
Naughty because from the second you step out of a car or through Central Station, the smell of weed hits you. It’s something we quickly became used to, but as Brits, we automatically label it “naughty.”
Beautiful because the canals and architecture give it star quality. The cool, slightly hipster vibe suited us. It felt laid back, mostly.

One thing was clear early on: nothing is free. Toilets? Charge. McDonald’s sauce? Charge. Tap water? No chance. You’ll get a bottle and be charged. We accepted it but made sure we drank every drop and scraped every bit of sauce. I’m not tight. I just want my money’s worth.

A canal tour is a must. Ours, in winter sunshine, showed the city at its absolute best. Around €15 each and worth it. The English commentary played over speakers great for us, less great for others who had to translate through phones. Did anyone use headphones? Of course not. The cabin filled with overlapping, slightly out-of-sync languages. Mild chaos. Still lovely.

We hopped on the free ferry to NDSM Wharf, hipster central, where IJ-Hallen flea market was on. Over 500 stalls selling everything from vintage jewellery to records and toys. We wandered for ages. The toilets? Think Glastonbury on the final day. Enough said.

The ferry itself was brilliant running constantly, packed with bikes, pedestrians and the odd small vehicle. Efficient and oddly fun.

The Van Gogh Museum was spectacular. Seeing artwork you’ve admired for years up close is something else. I didn’t know much about Van Gogh the man. Hearing about his struggles was sobering. His relationship with his brother Theo was particularly moving  you could feel how much that bond shaped his work.

No visit feels complete without Anne Frank House. Walking through the hiding place of the Frank family is gut-wrenching. We’d watched the film just two weeks before, so it felt strangely familiar. The rooms are empty but brought to life through audio and images. At one point I stepped back and realised: every single person in that building, all because a 13-year-old girl wrote a diary.

We also visited the A’DAM Lookout, where James and the eldest braved the “Over the Edge” swing. Suspended over the skyline. Absolutely not for me.

Markets are non-negotiable for us. Albert Cuyp Market featured heavily hot stroopwafel in hand, two pairs of dog shoes purchased (don’t ask), and a valuable lesson learned: do not buy souvenirs at the first stall. Further in, they were half the price. Rookie mistake.


To get to Berlin we travelled by train. Six hours. Two trains. Very wholesome.
First from Amsterdam Central station to Hannover (nicknamed Hangover — purely because of the sound). Then Hannover to Berlin.

For an extra €20 we upgraded to first class. On the first train? Worth it. Spacious. Relaxing. Smug.
On the second? We hadn’t realised seats needed reserving. Which is how we ended up sitting on the floor for the last leg. Comfortable enough  but still. The glamour faded quickly.
As we neared Berlin, coats were located, bags reorganised, emergency toilet trips taken. This led to me shouting through a train toilet door:
“Hold up his coat so he doesn’t wee on himself please!”
The joys of a train wee when you’re nine.

We arrived at Berlin Hauptbahnhof and just wanted the hotel. Instead, we navigated the metro system which I’m still not convinced I fully understand.
One thing we noticed, no easy contactless tapping like at home. Our first journey from Berlin HBF to Landsberger Allee was accidentally free because we couldn’t figure out how to pay quickly enough. We bought online tickets for the rest of the trip. Were they ever checked? No. Not once. Not even to the airport.

Berlin is heavier than Amsterdam. Less postcard. More history.
We started at the Brandenburg Gate, then walked to the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe and the Memorial to Homosexuals Persecuted Under Nazism.
These spaces force conversation. As a family, we talked about why memorials matter. Why remembering matters. Why history should not repeat itself. Sadly, lessons often feel unlearned.
One day we clocked over 20,000 steps. Berlin requires commitment.

The Urban Nation Museum was a hidden gem of bold street art and installations inside a former furniture store. Found via Instagram.

Food-wise, Germany does kebabs properly. Not English high street versions actual restaurants dedicated to them. Delicious. Possibly three were consumed. And the cheese-filled bratwurst was a game changer. Elite.

Our final day took us to the East Side Gallery. Seeing artwork across what a brutal divide was is powerful. We walked past Museum Island, always with the Fernsehturm Berlin somewhere in sight, dominating the skyline.

We ended with a visit to Europe’s largest charity shop  because nothing finishes a trip quite like a bargain hunt.

Our trip was rounded off with a very stressful RUN for our plane. We had minutes to spare and re-enacted Home Alone like absolute pros. Just like the Macalister's we made the plane, the only difference was that all passengers were accounted for. Our travel princes came home with us this time carrying a bag, WINNING.