I should note that while my wife Joanie accompanied me, this account is a personal account of my impressions, not hers. I’m sure she had impressions, but I have learned not to speak for her. This may be the most important lesson you may learn from this, but I learned many more on this trip.
The Preparation
The main focus of our trip to Holland, my first time since leaving there as a three year old, was a one week bike and barge trip around Holland (more correctly called The Netherlands of course). After fifty years of living in Canada, it was about time to visit the homeland. Inspired by my sister’s previous bike trips to Holland, Joanie and I decided to organize a trip ourselves. We put out the word, and secured commitments from 14 others to join us so that we could arrange a boat all to ourselves. Our group included two family members, six friends (I should actually say three friends and let them struggle with what category they fit into), four people who were relatives or friends of others on the trip, and an elderly couple who were parents to one of the relative’s friends. During the Spring of 2007 we organized many local biking outings to help strengthen our butt cheeks. By July, our bums were ready. See your sorry butts in Holland on August 4!
And It Begins
Our trip began uneventfully at the Vancouver Airport on July25. After a record seven straight days of constant rain, the skies opened up and it was a beautiful 27 degree day, a perfect time to be leaving. Joanie and I traveled alone to Amsterdam with Air Transat, leaving at 9PM. The flight was 9.5 hours and was very uneventful. I know because I was awake for all but 1.5 hours of it. We arrived very tired but excited about leaving North America for the first time in our lives and setting foot on our native Dutch soil. After clearing customs we looked for my uncle and aunt, who were there to pick us up and accompany us by train to their house in Hardewyk. We knew them from several visits to Canada, but were a little nervous about how we were going to get by with our broken Dutch, as my aunt did not understand English. We found them immediately and enjoyed our first cup of coffee at Schriphol. Our lessons were beginning. How do you order coffee so you get something more than a dribble in a baby cup? Joanie discovered that it was best to be wrong. (I knew that a long time ago!) If you ordered your coffee”verkeerd”, literally translated as “coffee wrong”, you got a reasonable cup of coffee without sugar. We also discovered that despite learning Dutch through osmosis, having listened to our parents speak Dutch all our lives, and practicing it over the years in an attempt to hide our conversations from our kids, we could actually communicate and make ourselves understood, much to the relief of my aunt.
From Schriphol we descended the escalator to where the trains come in. My uncle had already purchased our tickets and soon we were on a train heading towards Hardewyk, suitcases in tow. As I sat looking out of the window I wanted to take it all in. Only three problems; first, the countryside was mostly farmers fields not unlike what I saw at home, without the mountainous backdrop, second, it was a rainy day, not unlike home, and third, my eyes had this annoying habit of closing without any effort on my part, the effects of flying through the night.
Train travel is very good in Europe, except when you are lugging along two large, heavy suitcases and several overnight bags, purse, (Joanie’s, not mine), and cameras. After struggling to get all these down to the platform, you have to fight with the masses to board the train. This involves, throwing the suitcases several feet up onto the landing in the train, if the crowds disperse for you, and then jumping on board yourself with bags dangling and swatting you as you leap. Hopefully, both spouses can accomplish this task in the short time it takes before the doors close. The idea of porters to help is a thing of the past. Once on board, you must navigate through car doors, and narrow aisles and hope that it is not too crowded so that you can put your luggage in the seats next to you. I have to admit that at one point I let my 80+ year old uncle lug a heavy suitcase up and down stairs as we had to travel from one set of tracks to another to catch a connecting train.
The final challenge before our arrival was complete was in my uncle and aunt’s house itself. The stairs from the main floor to our bedroom on the second floor were only slightly less steep or narrow as a fireman’s pole. The stairs spiralled around a corner, narrowing to only a few inches wide on the inside of the turn. You could stand on the bottom step and place you hand five steps up for balance. You had to be very careful about manoeuvring the luggage around the corner, because if you stepped too much to the inside, there was hardly any stair to stand on. We later learned that most old Dutch houses had posts sticking out of the front with hooks on them. These were used to hoist furniture and other large items up and through the windows, because it would be impossible to get them up the stairs.
Hardewyk
July 27 was our first full day in our native land. We discovered immediately that Dutch people have no idea what to do with a toaster. Apparently, many have them but no one uses them. We had to get used to breakfast with untoasted bread. After three weeks, I was dreaming about fried eggs with toast and hashbrowns.
Our first morning was spent touring the old city on bicycles. The city had an extensive network of paved bike paths, and there was even a traffic circle for bikes. As much as I missed North American breakfasts, I will also miss Dutch cruising bikes. They were so comfortable to use, chains and tops of tires were fully covered, and it was not unusual to see men in suits or women in dressing, sitting up straight, biking with one hand on the handle and one hand holding large shopping bags.
Hardewyk was a beautiful, old, fortified city with buildings dating back to the 15th century. It is a port city. Many, like my uncle and aunt, live in row houses which are attached. Each have postage-stamp sized little from and back yards. Many houses also favour landscaped front yards with gravel, flowers and bushes or other low maintenance designs rather than lawns. The vast majority of properties were very well kept.
We also discovered a few other differences inside. After a fruitless hunt, I found that my uncle and aunt’s house did not have a tissue box to be had anywhere. The shower system was interesting. The shower/bathroom/shower room consisted of a fully tiled room with a sink and mirror on one side, and laundry facilities on the opposite wall. On the wall around the corner from the door, and opposite the washer, was the shower head. There was no partition anywhere. There is no toilet here. That is downstairs. This requires some planning. Do I go to the toilet first and then come upstairs for a shower, or do I take a shower first because its available.
My aunt is very particular about her house. Once you have had your shower, half the room, including the washer, is now all wet. It is strongly advised to place you clothing at the far end of the room near the sink and preferably off the floor. Having had a refreshing shower, you must now take a squeegee to the walls and floor, and then dry them all. When you are done, you will be all sweaty, so it is a good idea to take a shower. After one shower I decided there were only a few days left until we travelled to Amsterdam and since I was in an ancient city, I would follow the ancient ways of bathing less often.
The toilet facilities are interesting as well. In this case, the washroom consisted of a tiny room off of the hallway right by the living room. I think this was placed here so that if one were to have a particularly difficult or noisy bowel movement, it could be shared with the rest of the people in the house. We had learned before we came that Europeans have many different toilet styles, with different ways of flushing. Therefore, the first time I used the toilet, I frantically looked around for levers, pull strings, pipe sleeves, or any other device for flushing. I soon found what I was looking for and felt some relief until I opened the lid of the toilet. Beneath the seat was a shelf which them dropped down into a small pool of water. This might not be a problem, but this tiny room has no fan. Therefore, pardon my crudeness, but once one does their thing, it sits on this shelf, providing aroma for the whole room. The toilet had a half flush and whole flush feature. This country which is almost under water and has water ways everywhere, is concerned about conserving water. The idea is to only do a half flush if you only pee. Joanie did some work on this and discovered if you put toilet paper on the shelf first, it helps keep things from “sticking” and you can do a half flush to move things into the water, thereby reducing the smell factor. This being the only toilet in the house, I tried very hard to plan my trips, keeping them to a minimum and trying hard to protect others. However, I was often not successful, like the day I waited until just before we left for an outing to use the washroom. I had been saving up, and the shelf thing was not always that effective. So after I was finished, and I hoped we could quickly leave. Not more than one minute later, my aunt decides she will just pop into the bathroom before we go. She said nothing when she came out, but I don’t know how she could have held her breath that long!
Coming Home
July 28 was truly homecoming. Along with my uncle and aunt, we took the train to Zwolle and then to Rheden where we had reserved some bikes for rent. My aunt was quite concerned because the only bike they had available for me had 21 gears. Theirs had 5. I assured her that I was OK. It didn’t matter how many gears a bike had, you find the few you are comfortable with on the mostly flat trip, and ignore the rest.
We biked the three kilometres to Velp, which is across the river from Arnhem. My uncle acted as tour guide, and was in his glory. We visited the house where I was born at #2 Vondelaan Straat. The house was neat, but I was impressed by the neighbourhood, which seemed quite posh, with many large beautiful house. We rode past the local park where my father played soccer on Saturday afternoons and came to the house where my Oma Meyer lived until moving into a rest home before she died. My uncle explained to the owner, who was probably concerned about these strangers staring at his house and taking pictures, that we were from Canada and this is where his mother lived. The man was very gracious and offered to let us come in and see the back yard where I spent many a Sunday afternoon after church service for family coffee. I was impressed by how nice it was, with a canal at the back of the lot, lined with willow trees, other houses with little docks, etc.
My uncle on the other hand was over the top. He was thrilled to have been able to see this, as it had been decades since he had been inside. He told everyone who phoned them about this day. We also visited the graveyard where many of my family were buried and saw the old church the ‘Oude Jan’ and the park where my mother’s parent’s farm had stood. The area had since been subdivided, but a tree which stood in front of the house still grew in the park.
We finished the trip with a visit to a pancake house which served every kind of pancake and topping imaginable.
One of the things I noticed was how calm the traffic was, which I did not expect. Motorists were very patient with and mindful of cyclists, and no one seemed to be speeding, as I was expecting.
The next day was Sunday, and we attended the CRC in Hardwyk. It was like going back to the sixties. Very stiff. Slow, dreary hymns. What was charming however was hearing the church bells ringing to call people to church.
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were spent visiting Elburg, Geithorn and the zoo in Arnhem. For our outing to Geithorn, a lovely little place with waterways instead of streets, we packed a lunch. This consisted of buns with meat, very simple. When we arrived in Geithorn, by bus, it was lunch time. We went to a restaurant for coffee, and then had to sneak bites from our buns, which we hid under the table. I had not done this since high school! By Thursday, we were ready to move on (and take a shower!).
Amsterdam
We arrived by train at Central Station in Amsterdam on August 2. The station was very crowded and we chose to walk to our hotel, rather than fight the crowds for a bus or taxi. After a twenty minute walk through downtown Amsterdam we found our hotel, The Nadia. We opened the hotel door from the sidewalk and our hearts fell. We were looking up a very, very long, narrow staircase which led to the 3rd floor lobby. Having pulled out suitcases over the cobble stones and through the crowds, we were hardly prepared to lug them up these stairs. Then we heard a voice call to us. We were told to leave the luggage at the foot of the stairs and someone was coming to bring them up. I had anticipated three trips to get everything up the stairs, but this fellow came down, and in one trip, managed to get everything up the stairs in one trip. I still have no idea how he did it.
Our room was quaint little room with a small balcony. We had a view of the Westerkerk church across the street. This is where Rembrandt attended and was buried. Our bathroom was interesting. Again with the bathrooms!!! It was impossible to bend over the sink. If you wanted to do that, you had to open the door so your butt could stick out.
We were fortunate enough to hit Amsterdam during “Gay Weekend”. The courts of the Westerkerk were adorned in bright colours and a band was playing monotonous, repetitive beat music until late in the night. The streets were filled with gay couples all night long.
The next two days were spent exploring what Amsterdam had to offer, including the Anne Frank museum nearby, the Rykesmuseum, Chinatown, the flower market and off course the famous Red Light District. The Anne Frank museum was very moving. The Rykesmuseum was a gorgeous old building and to my surprise, I thoroughly loved seeing and marvelling at the intricate detail of some of the old 16th and 17th century paintings, including Rembrandt’s “The Night Watch”. Chinatown was dirty and not to my liking. The Red Light District was interesting to say the least. It was very busy, and there were rows of windows with red lights above them, which indicated whether the women inside were busy or not. The odd man would come out of the building looking not the least bit embarrassed that the whole world knew what he had just been up to.
I also enjoyed seeing where my sister-in-law had booked one of the groups to stay, in the heart of the Red Light and drug district. To enter the little hotel, you had to pass through an aways present group of people smoking dope, and up the mandatory narrow little staircase, to a room overlooking the street below, which was filled with people milling about and smoking funny things. Across the street was a store where you could get a variety of drugs, magic mushrooms and other hallucinogenics. I was however very jealous of their great bathroom, with full bath, shower, normal toilets and room to walk around.
The night before the bike and Barge trip, we took one of the canal tours in the glass-covered boat. Very nice.
My impressions of Amsterdam? I loved the architecture. It was everything I expected and more and the canals, which paralleled every other street, made for a beautiful setting. Even without the Gay celebration across the street from the hotel, it seemed sex and drugs were in your face all the time. Even far from the Red Light district, souvenir shops prominently display items in the form of phallic symbols and had cups, mugs etc. adorned with marijuana leaves. We felt like we were in Sodom or Gomorrah. I also commented on how many items had “XXX” on them, like some pornographic rating. Then I noticed this same triple X on the tower of the Westerkerk. I began to doubt that the church was advertising sex, so I had to do some research. I learned that “XXX” mark was actually part of the coat of arms for Amsterdam and had a religious connect to the cross. Oops.
There were a few surprises which we began to learn as common throughout the country. Despite the throngs of tourists everywhere, stores generally closed at 6PM, even in tourist areas. Even on a Friday night, the main stores in Amsterdam were closed. The explanation we got from the locals was that the Dutch feel it is important for workers to have their family time, so they are not asked to stay open late, despite all the tourists with pockets full of money to spend. The main square in Amsterdam was the hub of activity during the day, and we were interested to see what it was like at night. In fact, it was quiet and deserted. It was almost impossible to find a place to just sit and enjoy a coffee after 9PM. It seems the nights are reserved for the bars which are hopping, but that’s about all. Oh yah, except for those little automat machines that spit out warm croquettes, nasi or bitterballen all night long.
Bike and Barge
On a beautiful, sunny August 4 we took a taxi and found our boat, ‘Christina’. It flew the Canadian flag, as we had pre-arranged for easy identification. Some of our group had already been there and left for a stroll. We met the captain, Toon Stevens, who escorted us to our room. He became enraged to discover that someone had tried to claim the large bedroom which he had reserved for us, because we had arranged the trip. This was not starting well. He took the bags out of our room and re-assigned it to us. If we had known what was to come, we may not have been so pleased. Our first meeting as a group began with Toon lecturing everyone about the attempted room switch and how on this ship he was the boss on board. Luckily, he did calm down and things proceeded well after that.
After a short cruise out of Amsterdam and up the canal to Nighveghter, we started our first biking session, an 18 km. trip to meet up with the boat again just north of Utrecht. We found a bike trail along the canal for a while until we met another couple who noticed our t-shirts with the Dutch-Canadian flag logo. They were from Ontario. They told us we were missing the more scenic route inland and proceeded to lead us to the trail we wanted. It did not take us long to run into problems. At Loenen, we stopped at a little draw bridge, and the party got separated. Some proceeded across the bridge, which was not part of our route, and visited a windmill. The rest of us remained on the other side, and decided to carry on, not knowing if the rest would be returning this way or not. We stopped at a set of locks for a cool beer and to watch people manoeuvre their boats through the locks, yelling at each other when someone did not cooperate. Very entertaining. We carried on and when we got to the town where we needed to cross the river and head for the canal where our boat should be, we ran into the ‘lost’ party (they may have called us lost). When we reached the canal, we turned left per directions, and cycled for a short while before deciding we were getting too far away. We turned back and sure enough, the boat was on the right side of where we had come out. Finding the boat that first day gave us a real sense of accomplishment.
Saturday night we docked just outside of Utrecht and enjoyed an evening out on the deck. Things were going too well. It was a very warm evening and the cabins were hot. Our large cabin would only be considered large for leprechauns. It had a bunk bed along one wall and two bunk beds, one above the other along another wall. The heat and size of the beds did not encourage any thoughts of extracurricular activities. Joanie slept on the single bed while I crawled into the bottom bed on the other wall. I enjoyed a really good one hour sleep before being woken up by Joanie. She was concerned because she was feeling very itchy and found some bugs on her pillow. I got up and we turned on the light. There were a few bugs on her, and there were bugs all over her pillow. We checked the rest of the bed. It was infested with bugs. We threw her pillow in the hall. Joanie was in tears. She wanted to go home right then and there. That may have seemed like a rational request to her, but I was sceptical that we could make it work. After calming her down, she moved to the bunk bed above me. She insisted on keeping the lights on in case she saw more bugs, and then, despite her trauma, rolled over and went to sleep. As I lay beneath her, feeling somewhat itchy as well, I noticed a few bugs in my bed as well. I quietly killed them, trying not to awake Joanie. Then I saw the odd bug scurry across the boards under her bed and above my head. I tried killing any I could. When they squished, blood oozed out. My blood? Joanie’s blood?
I spent the rest of the night on guard. Whenever I thought I had not seen a bug for a while and perhaps I could get some sleep, I would feel an itch and find another bug on my sheet or see a bug crossing under Joanie’s bed. Her Majesty slept peacefully the rest of the night. Sometime between 6AM and 6:45AM, I somehow fell asleep for about twenty minutes. It was a relief when it was time to get up for breakfast.
I was quieter than usual on August 5, a Sunday. Others noticed this but said nothing. Joanie and I had agreed that we would not tell anyone about the bugs, since the mere suggestion of it often causes people to feel itchy and paranoid and we did not want to spoil the trip for anyone. We did approach Toon and his assistant, and told them about the bugs. They said there may be a spider web and they would check out the room when everyone is gone and spray it.
Breakfast consisted of untoasted bread, boiled eggs, assorted spreads, meats, cheese, etc. We could use this to also pack a lunch for our bike trip. The weather was a warm 30 degrees as we sailed through Utrecht to Wyk de Durstede, where we disembarked at 10:30AM for our bike trip to Arnhem. Two people split from the group to meet up with relatives in the area, and the rest of us carried on. We stopped for coffee at Kasteel Amerongen. They offered up a real nice appel tarte for with coffee. There was no other pastries on the menu.
This was the hilliest stretch of our journey. The elderly couple were struggling. The gentleman had recovered from heart surgery years ago. While we had suggested that the group could slpit up if they wanted, everyone wanted to stay together. This made for a very long gap between the front runners, and those at the back. When we stopped to rest and let people catch up, the first people were often well rested and ready to go again while the last people had just barely got their breath. Tensions began running high. By late afternoon, as we were ascending a hill past Osterbeck near Arnhem, the wife could not handle it anymore and blew up at the rest of us for not giving them enough time to rest. It was a relief to find the boat in Arnhem because I don’t think the couple could have stood for too much more. You’d think they had bugs in their room or something. I actually thought I did quite well that day, biking for over 50 kms. on less than one and one half hours sleep, and not getting cranky with anyone, that I can remember anyway. And not one question about the pillow in the hallway that morning.
We found that our cabin had been cleaned, with new linens put on. There was no sign of the bugs so we both slept well that night. I was glad. I would not want Joanie to lose another half hour of sleep. In the morning we did find a few bugs, and managed to catch one not too squished, which we put in a napkin and presented to Toon the next morning for identification.
Monday, August 6 was another beautiful, sunny day. After a breakfast of untoasted bread, eggs, etc. etc. and packing our lunch with the same things, we sailed to Doesburg, where most of us disembarked. The elderly couple decided to go it alone on a shorter route, beginning in Zutphen, so stayed on board. We had a great day. The tension from yesterday was gone, the route was flat, and we traveled through some very picturesque little villages and added to our windmill photo collection. We stopped for coffee at nicest little town of Bronkhorst. The little outdoor cafe only had a very nice appel tarte for with coffee. We then cooled ourselves off under the town water pump. Lunch was in a park in Zutphen, followed by exploring the town a little. Despite another 50 km. trip, we arrived at the boat in Deventer at 4PM. It was again exciting to round the turn on the wonderful, paved bike path and see Deventer, the bridge across the river, and a boat with a Canadian flag flying moored on the other side. We made it again without getting lost! This was also the last of the really nice, hot days.
We returned to the boat only to find our cabin sealed off. The bugs we had in our room were a wood bug which eats wood (the blood is caused by the iron in the wood) and is a real concern on a wooden boat. Therefore the room was fully fumigated and sealed for the rest of the trip until it got inspected. We were now moved to the remaining unused cabin, a room so small that we could not store any suitcase in or both stand up at the same time. What was most interesting was that all of this took place and not one of the other 14 passengers noticed or asked questions about why we moved rooms. Were we becoming invisible?
As much as I was getting tired of Dutch breakfasts, dinners on the boat were awesome. Today we had whiskey-soaked chicken and a wonderful chocolate mousse with ameretto.
Tuesday was my turn to lead the biking and it was an overcast day. We even had a few showers, which was a good thing, because otherwise I would not have ever used the rain gear I had bought. We followed the Issel River from Deventer to Veesen, where we had to explore the town in order to find any place for coffee. We did find a butcher shop that served a good appel tarte. This was one of the few places that also had a second choice, almond kook. We coffee’d under umbrellas in the back of the store.
We followed a wonderful route through the ‘bos’ to Hattam, a beautiful old town. We stopped at a clearing with purple heather blooming everywhere and this became a photo op for everyone. We decided to split up for an hour at Hattam for lunch and to explore. I have a confession to make. This morning I had untoasted bread, boiled egg, etc. and made the standard lunch of bread with sandwich meat. Hattam deserved more than another boring lunch so a few of us trashed the bag lunch and enjoyed croquettes, perhaps the best single cuisine item Holland has to offer for lunch. This was followed by a large beer in Zalk later that afternoon. We biked 58 km. And fortunately, we arrived at the boat in Kampen in time for happy hour. The day was not without its controversy though. Along the way, one of our group insisted they say a kangaroo in a pen. We also say storks, but I had some doubt that they would go that far of course to deliver a joey this far north. This would not be the end of it though. More on this later.
Wednesday, August 4 began with untoasted bread, cheese, etc. I passed on packing a lunch. We were given a choice, begin biking at Kampen or sail around the end of the peninsula and begin biking on the opposite side. The two young ‘uns began at Kampen while us more mature passengers chose to go for a sail. We started out at Roggebort sluis and biked to Elburg, a very quaint old fortified city.
At Elburg, we chose to split up and explore for two hours. It was market day, and very busy. We hooked up with another couple and chose to explore some culinary goals. We went to the Hema to check out a rumour that they had the best “tompoos’ pastry. We confirmed this as we sat on the curb with our pastry box spread out on the street. Then we went for a coffee. The restaurant had some very good appel tarte for with coffee but we passed. Joanie and I then went to the old port for kibberlings and lekebekkjes. The names sounded like these must be so good, and I have heard a few Dutchmen refer to them with a dreamy look in their eyes. They turned out to be different fish and so lunch was fish and chips, nothing special. Okay, one letdown. For dessert, we found a stand selling pofferjes, which were great. After some refreshments in Hierden, we arrived in Hardewyk. To continue the day’s food theme, we had Ostrich meat and French fried for dinner and a nice custard fla.
After dinner we met up with my uncle and aunt again for some wine. My uncle snuck back to the kitchen and arranged for them to cook us up some bitterbullen. However, much to my aunt’s embarrassment, when the evening was over, he was very slow with the wallet and I ended up paying for his treats. A true Dutchman!
Thursday was a very cool, overcast day. We started out by stopping by my uncle and aunt’s place. My aunt, came out in her housecoat and little else to greet us. She’s a trooper. As we biked through Horst, some of us did see deer penned up at a farm, as well as a penned kangaroo. Some did not see this, and to this day there remains a controversy on whether the shadowy picture I took was really a roo. This time I have to say it really was, so perhaps there are two kangaroos in Holland.
Due to some showers, we took a shopping break in Nykerk, another old,old city. This time we avoided the coffee shops and found a bakery with a whole assortment of pastries, including the best “bosse bols” ever. I understand the best are actually in ‘ den Bos (short for the actual name, S’Hertogen Den Bos), but when we were there Joanie never let me join the lineup at the bakery by the train station to sample them. These are actually like very large filled cream puffs covered with the most delicious dark chocolate. No calories either!
Apart from the hills on day one, this was the most difficult biking day. It was a short biking day but the last 45 minutes or so was on top of an unpaved dyke with a narrow path and a strong headwind which made peddling much more work. We arrived at Spakenburg by 2:30 already, which gave us time to explore the quaint fishing town with its old wooden boats. Some of the townspeople still wear the old traditional costumes, but apparently do not take kindly to being photographed. This made for a challenging time, trying to sneak pictures from across the street, while enjoying wine and appies. Dinner that night was peanut soup with rice and peanut-beef stew, and baked banana for dessert. Excellent.
Friday, August 10 was the final day of our bike tour. We followed the Zuider Zee route to Muidenberg where we again found a bakery which sold pastries, which we took to a coffee shop on the beach. Another day without appel tarte! After a tour of Muidenslot Kasteel, we biked the final leg into Amsterdam. Biking through Amsterdam was much easier than anticipated. Most of the way we stayed on the bike path, and only travelled a few kilometres along the streets to the place where the boat was moored.
Friday night was spent exploring Amsterdam again. The city looked like a dump. Friday night is gargage night, and everywhere, shops and stores threw their garbage into the streets for collection.
Saturday was a bit of a sad day on several levels. It began with having to say goodbye to all our friends and relatives as we parted ways for the rest of the vacation. Biking together for a week had been an awesome adventure. Then, Joanie lost her wallet and ID. She was in a mad panic for some time before the missing items were finally located. Finally, it was time to settle with the captain, Toon. Throughout the week, he kept the boat stocked with wine, beer, etc. and we simply ticked off the items we bought as we went along. Now it was time to pay. Given the episode we had with the bugs and sleep disruptions, I Had expected that we might get a discount, or a free bottle of wine or some kind of compensation for our trouble and the fact that we had kept things quiet. I forgot we were dealing with a Dutchman. There was not one penny taken off, nor an apology or thank you. This was very disappointing, and to date, has cost him at least two future boat loads of customers. There was also another incident, not Toon’s fault but nevertheless very troubling. Out boat had been tied up beside another boat, and this boat dumped waste over the side, right through an open window into one of our friend’s face. Toon did get upset and complained to the captain of the boat, who gave her a bottle of wine. The wine had a home-made label on it from a wedding, so was probably not the finest vintage.
Joanie’s Family
Wyk
From Amsterdam we took the train to Den Bos, where we were picked up and travelled in a real automobile to Wyk en Alberg. We stayed with Joanie’s cousins who spoke perfect English. What a joy to not have to speak Dutch all the time! The house too made us feel very North American again. There was a very large, well kept garden, with lawns, a pond, patio, etc. There were bathrooms upstairs AND downstairs, and the toilets looked and functioned like our own. No poop shelf! The bathrooms had fans which operated automatically when the light was turned on. Upstairs was a spacious large bathroom with a tub and a glass enclosed shower. Our bedroom was huge and had its own sink. The large closets had lights that went on and off automatically when the door opened or closed. We were living in the lap of luxury.
One of the things we had noticed, and started paying attention to, starting in Spakenburg, was how decorations in houses were always balanced. A window sill would never have one vase or one pot, but alway one on each side, or two pillows, etc. The same was true in this house. We also noticed that Dutch people do not place their napkins on their lap, but leave them on the table. They also do not take their shoes off when they come in a house. That I quite liked. We tend to get too paranoid about tracking in a grain of sand but have no problem walking around in bare feel that are black in no time and probably track more dirt than any shoe. Plus, when its time to go you go, rather than tripping over the pile of shoes all over the hallway, looking for your own.
The next few days were spent touring local places in the province of Brabant, including the old city of Heusden, where Joanie’s sister and daughter were staying with another cousin. Heusden is an 11th century city which was bombed in 1944. Joanie’s cousin Bert was a great tour guide, giving us interesting history lessons. We also visited Genderen where Joanie’s mom grew up, and where we visited relatives. We had attended church on the Sunday morning, and it seemed everyone was related to Joanie some how. “See the organ player, that’s a cousin of yours. Over there are the children of so and so, whose mom is married to your whatever.” This continued on when we visited some more family. It kind of made me think of the movie Deliverance for some reason.
Belgium
Monday morning we joined Joanie’s sister and daughter and took the train to Brugge, Belgium. We had to change trains in Antwerp, so this was a good place to quickly explore around the downtown station and have coffee. Brugge was left virtually untouched by WWII as was a gorgeous old city, with canals and little bridges everywhere. We took a boat tour.
Lunch was interesting. We had to try the local cuisine of course, so Joanie ordered a bucket of mussels. I participated by watching her eat them, while consuming my chicken. We also order the local Belgian beer. My beer was gone long before the food ever arrived. We were virtually ignored and it took 1.5 hours before we got our order. The waiter barely acknowledged us, even when serving food, and never asked if we wanted another drink or a bed to sleep on in case we wanted to order dessert. It reinforced my principals that one should not eat mussels.
Food of course is not important at all to us, but we did feel the need to sample Belgian waffles while in the country. We desperately searched for this on our pit stop at the Antwerp train station on our way home. We found a stand selling glazed Belgian waffles. Mouth-watering!
The Works
Tuesday, August 14 we hopped in the car to go out for the day. It seemed like we were living in the lap of luxury. The house we were staying in was beautiful and spacious with all the modern conveniences, and of course the surrounding garden was like a park. Traveling around the countryside in a vehicle was nice after being more restricted by bike and train travel the first week.
The day started with a tour of the small town of Klundert, where Joanie’s dad grew up. Klundert was preparing to celebrate its 650 year anniversary.
We then traveled to Willemstaat, a beautiful port city, where we stopped for coffee, and,...wait for it...appel tarte, the specialty and only offering of the coffee shop.
We then spent the afternoon touring Neltje Jan, the name given to the Delta Works, a large project to control the flow of the sea to prevent the massive flooding that occurred in the past. We had offered to take our hosts out for dinner, and they suggested a nice seafood restaurant in Ouddorp. It was pricey, and added to our feeling of living in luxury.
The Piggy Palace
Wednesday, was moving day. We were driven to our next stay, at another one of Joanie’s cousin and her friend in Berlicum, near Den Bos. We were greeted with a huge Canadian flag in the back yard. The house had a hint of a some kind of theme. The large back yard included statutes of a mother pig with piglets, and more pig statutes further down. The house included a curio cabinet filled with thousands of pig figurines, there were pig figures on each stair leading up stairs, there were wooden, porcelain and paper pigs in the living room and even hanging from the ceiling in the kitchen. I think they were going with a pig theme.
Our stay in Berlicum was fun. We took the local bus to Den Bos, and did find a restaurant to partake of Bos’ Bollen, those wonderful cream puffs. Den Bos was a stark contrast to Wyk, where we had just been. Wyk was a very “reformed” place. On Sunday, most people seemed to be dressed in their Sunday best, and many went to church. Stores were closed. There were no lawn mowers running and it was quiet.
Den Bos on the other hand had a strong Catholic influence. The centre of the city was the old, 13th century St. Jan Cathedral which contained a Michelangelo statute of the virgin mother. There were stores everywhere which sold Catholic crucifix’s, virgin Mary statues, etc. And there were even religious statues on every street corner. However, there also seemed to be more of a free spirit.
We took a boat tour through the city, traveling under many houses where there were hatches that people used to use to dispose of their waste into the water canals, and later to transport goods from their boat into their houses. It has been interesting to see how water ways were integrated into every aspect of life in Holland.
Our final full day in Holland was a wonderful whirlwind of touring some of the attractions we still had on our ‘to do’ list. Each stop was beautiful and unique. It started by a visit to Alkmaar, to see the cheese market. It was packed, but great to see. We had coffee near the market. They could only offer their special appel tarte for a treat.
From there, we headed for Edam, a very cute old town. As we drove out of town along a dike we stopped. The dike was higher than the road. We climbed the dike and were surprised to see the other side, where there was a vast expanse of water with sail boats, etc. That were higher than the road.
We toured Volendam, a very touristy place harbour city that was packed. The main street along the water was old and very narrow. Beautiful old “boter” boats filled the harbour. Across the water, you could see the picturesque town of Marken. Restaurants and shops lined the street. Huge touring buses drove down this street. It was a miracle that these behemoths could navigate the streets at all, with often only inches between them and the sides of buildings. Tourists had to scramble out of the way, and they blocked the view of the restaurant goers. It was shocking that these vehicles were allowed here. They did not take away from our croquettes however.
Marken was our final stop. This was a small town with old, wooden, green buildings often seen on pictures. I had been on the hunt all day to add to my shot glass collection but had no success in Alkmaar, Edam or Volendam. I insisted that Marken had shot glasses. The first souvenir store we stopped at, I immediately spotted what I was looking for.
The day ended with a good meal at the local pub in Berlicum . The pub owner visited with us and even gave us some liquers to sample and played some music requests. This was a wonderful last day in Europe and we have the picture (see opening page) to show for it.
Saturday, August 18 we took the train to Schiphol in Amsterdam for our flight home. We were loaded down with souvenirs we had bought, plus little gifts Joanie’s Berlicum cousin slipped us everywhere we went. Joanie had declined a pair of wooden shoe slippers and this was a good thing because there was not an inch of space left, and we had to pay for having over-weight luggage. It’s a good thing we didn’t try packing along some appel tarte for with coffee!
One final note, any resemblance to any persons who may have accompanied us on our trip is purely cooncidence, unless they are OK with it and have no intention to sue.
Post script: Ben passed away on June 3, 2010. He will be remembered and will be greatly missed if we do plan a return trip to Europe.
Thanks so much for that lovely set of memories! We are excited about the plans for future bike & barge travels! Read this am that our youth will be renewed as the eagles (Ps 103) I think retirement is something like that! We are enjoying that partial phase and wish you both wonderful renewal!!
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