Travelblog 8 - More to Holland: Tiel and Flipje

Apparently, there is a saying in Holland: “Never be caught dead in Tiel.” The implication, as far as I understand it, is that Tiel is a very dull place. Therefore, it was amusing and interesting that Erik, who told me the saying, and Annemieke wanted to take us there one afternoon. Mostly, I think, it was to experience the bus ride through the back country around their home in Culemborg. Secondly, I think they really wanted us to see Tiel – but I don’t know why. Perhaps it was the statue. And yet, and yet – I like Tiel. We packed up the dog, Daan, a long-haired dachshund. In Holland, dogs are welcome almost everywhere, even inside many stores and restaurants, and certainly on rapid transit. The bus ride over was fun and casual, along the dike and then through small towns and villages. Tiel is about half an hour away from Culemborg in the Riverland. We crossed no major rivers to get there, but left on the southern bank of one, the Lek, and finished on the northern bank of another, the all important Waal. Tiel is one of several major cities along the Waal River. The Waal is the main tributary that leads from Rotterdam up to the Rhine and its gateways to Europe. As such, the Waal is one of the most heavily trafficked rivers in the world. Tiel is quaint. No other word gives the city justice. Apart from the sprawl common to the outlying areas of most Dutch towns, there is much charm and there are many shopping opportunities in the centrum. Like so many Dutch and European towns, Tiel was all but destroyed during World War Two, to be rebuilt carefully with an eye to its past and a mind to its future. The area around Tiel is surrounded by orchards, and Tiel was the home of the jam company de Betuwe until 1993. A cartoon character called Flipje graced the company’s advertising since the 1930’s. A statue of the raspberry-based humanoid Flipje is one of the modest highlights of Tiel’s central district. As with most centers in Holland, forget your car and visit on foot. Tiel’s main street runs parallel to the Waal until it reaches a distinct V. One branch of the V leads away from the shops and into a more open area where street venders ply their trade, then past them toward the old city gate and wall. Pass through the open gate and you find the river beyond, with a large parking area for water sport enthusiasts between the wall and the Waal, so to speak. Large transport barges head up the river and down, covered with pods. You can tell if the pods are full or empty by how low the barge rides in the water. Going back through the gate, you enter a large square with a playful fountain that sprays according to a modest computer program. This part of the square is dominated by restaurants and their requisite sidewalk seating. On our visit, no one was busy yet. We made our way down a side street lined with more shops, including a fair trade store whose owner, as it turns out, has family in Mesa, Arizona. It IS a small world. Later, we had a cup of coffee on the second floor of the local Hema department store. The window overlooked the V from the first juncture. Prominent in the plaza below stood Flipje, smiling from every inch of his four foot stature. Daan sat at our feet while I snapped a couple of pictures. As we were leaving the waitress came over to Annemieke to explain to her that the dog was actually not permitted in the eating area of Hema, for future reference. I was impressed by the consideration to wait until we were done rather than stop us altogether. Of course, it could have been economics. The best part of Tiel, though, was the very new adventure it offered Diane and me. On two occasions, in two separate stores along the first street, we saw women’s clothes on sale on outside racks. Both times, we found something we liked for Di. Both times, we went for it and bought outfits at a price that would make any Dutchman or Scotsman proud. But the best thing was that we bought them without Di trying them on first, with total confidence that they would fit. And they did! It added to the depth of our experience to know that Di could find something beautiful to wear right off the rack. So, maybe you should never be caught dead in Tiel, but if you are at least you can be well dressed when you go.

Travelblog 7: More to Holland: den Haag

Travelblog 7: There’s More to Holland than Amsterdam: den Haag When most people think of the Netherlands they see images of tulips and windmills. Then they think about Amsterdam, one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world. Most visitors to Holland concentrate a good amount of their energies on that fabulous city, but there is more to Holland than Amsterdam, or windmills, or tulips. A prime example is the seat of government, den Haag (the Hague). Den Haag not only houses the Dutch parliament in the Binnehof, it also serves as home for the World Court of the United Nations. Beyond that, the city is a treasure trove of Dutch history and art. In an earlier blog I talked about the Grote Kerk (Great Church), where three of the Huygens family are buried. The building is a masterpiece of engineering and construction on a par with every major church in every major city in Europe. Having been allowed inside when the church was totally empty, not just of people but of pews, I had the chance to see how really huge the building is. The Mauritshuis would fit inside it, I think. The Mauritshuis is one of the most enjoyable art museums in the world. Three stories tall, the Mauritshuis was build in the 1630’s by Jacob van Campen for Johan Maurits of Nassau, cousin to Prince of Orange Frederick Henry. Constantijn Huygens oversaw the building while Maurits was on expedition to Brazil. Huygens built his own house right next door, but that home no longer stands. The Mauritshuis is the permanent home for Vermeer’s “Girl with the Pearl Earring.,” plus a treasure trove of great works in an up close and personal setting seldom possible in larger museums. The Mauritshuis serves as a focal point for the city. The Binnehof (Parliament Building) is right next door. The central shopping district is a short walk away. Den Haag’s centrum is as nice as any in Holland. A large plaza stretches from the back of the Mauritshuis to the first street of the central area. Restaurants line the plaza, with outdoor seating in good weather. The plaza itself is often crowded with some sort of fair or event. On this last trip the square was covered with book dealers selling old books. At one corner of the plaza, the centrum really begins. From pizza to Surinamese food, from the latest fashion to the most expensive fountain pen, den Haag has it all, right there, right now. Not far away, Constantijn Huygens built a summer home, a retreat from the rigors of court. He designed it to look like a man when seen from above. The small house sits on the edge of a large pond, forming a head and hair. Carefully positioned groves of trees make up the rest of the shape – neck, torso, arms and legs. Unfortunately, half the land has given way to city growth, but the home, called Hofwijck, remains. The word “Hofwijck” translates as “Avoid Court.” Huygens, a composer and poet as well as diplomat and art patron, obviously had a sense of humor. His second son, Christiaan, was one of the greatest scientists of the age. A working model of his pendulum clock ticks away on the second floor at Hofwijck. Two other tourist-friendly vacation destinations are within minutes of central den Haag. The beach resort Scheveningen is den Haag’s summer playhouse, with long beaches and a pier that juts out a goodly distance into the North Sea. There is a yearly sand castle contest that tests the limits of what sand can build. The theme for the one we saw was “The Lion King.” The castles were actually statues, including one of a grinning Elton John replete with very wide sunglasses playing and singing wildly at the piano. Then there is another major attraction, Madurodam, nothing less than a miniature of Holland itself. The artists of Madurodam are so precise that their buildings will reflect any ongoing re-construction on the actual building in real time. From windmills to Schiphol Airport to tiny masterworks inside the halls of a minute Rijksmuseum, the highlights of the Netherlands are right there in precise detail. It is amazing to me that there is so much to see and enjoy in one municipality, let alone so small a country. My brother likes to point out that there is much more to Europe than just the Netherlands. I know he’s right, but I haven’t seen all of the Netherlands yet.

Travelblog 7: More to Holland than Amsterdam: den Haag

When most people think of the Netherlands they see images of tulips and windmills. Then they think about Amsterdam, one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world. Most visitors to Holland concentrate a good amount of their energies on that fabulous city, but there is more to Holland than Amsterdam, or windmills, or tulips. A prime example is the seat of government, den Haag (the Hague). Den Haag not only houses the Dutch parliament in the Binnehof, it also serves as home for the World Court of the United Nations. Beyond that, the city is a treasure trove of Dutch history and art. In an earlier blog I talked about the Grote Kerk (Great Church), where three of the Huygens family are buried. The building is a masterpiece of engineering and construction on a par with every major church in every major city in Europe. Having been allowed inside when the church was totally empty, not just of people but of pews, I had the chance to see how really huge the building is. The Mauritshuis would fit inside it, I think. The Mauritshuis is one of the most enjoyable art museums in the world. Three stories tall, the Mauritshuis was build in the 1630’s by Jacob van Campen for Johan Maurits of Nassau, cousin to Prince of Orange Frederick Henry. Constantijn Huygens oversaw the building while Maurits was on expedition to Brazil. Huygens built his own house right next door, but that home no longer stands. The Mauritshuis is the permanent home for Vermeer’s “Girl with the Pearl Earring.,” plus a treasure trove of great works in an up close and personal setting seldom possible in larger museums. The Mauritshuis serves as a focal point for the city. The Binnehof (Parliament Building) is right next door. The central shopping district is a short walk away. Den Haag’s centrum is as nice as any in Holland. A large plaza stretches from the back of the Mauritshuis to the first street of the central area. Restaurants line the plaza, with outdoor seating in good weather. The plaza itself is often crowded with some sort of fair or event. On this last trip the square was covered with book dealers selling old books. At one corner of the plaza, the centrum really begins. From pizza to Surinamese food, from the latest fashion to the most expensive fountain pen, den Haag has it all, right there, right now. Not far away, Constantijn Huygens built a summer home, a retreat from the rigors of court. He designed it to look like a man when seen from above. The small house sits on the edge of a large pond, forming a head and hair. Carefully positioned groves of trees make up the rest of the shape – neck, torso, arms and legs. Unfortunately, half the land has given way to city growth, but the home, called Hofwijck, remains. The word “Hofwijck” translates as “Avoid Court.” Huygens, a composer and poet as well as diplomat and art patron, obviously had a sense of humor. His second son, Christiaan, was one of the greatest scientists of the age. A working model of his pendulum clock ticks away on the second floor at Hofwijck. Two other tourist-friendly vacation destinations are within minutes of central den Haag. The beach resort Scheveningen is den Haag’s summer playhouse, with long beaches and a pier that juts out a goodly distance into the North Sea. There is a yearly sand castle contest that tests the limits of what sand can build. The theme for the one we saw was “The Lion King.” The castles were actually statues, including one of a grinning Elton John replete with very wide sunglasses playing and singing wildly at the piano. Then there is another major attraction, Madurodam, nothing less than a miniature of Holland itself. The artists of Madurodam are so precise that their buildings will reflect any ongoing re-construction on the actual building in real time. From windmills to Schiphol Airport to tiny masterworks inside the halls of a minute Rijksmuseum, the highlights of the Netherlands are right there in precise detail. It is amazing to me that there is so much to see and enjoy in one municipality, let alone so small a country. My brother likes to point out that there is much more to Europe than just the Netherlands. I know he’s right, but I haven’t seen all of the Netherlands yet.

Travelblog 6:Crossing Borders 2: Nordham, Germany

A few kilometers over the border between Holland and Germany is a small city called Nordham. It is not a very important town, apparently. I could not find it by search engine. I barely spotted it on one map of Germany after painstaking search. The search engines all wanted to direct me to Northheim, a city much much farther to the south (500 kilometers, to be exact). Perhaps this is a good thing for Nordham. The city can remain a bit sleepy, a sort of oasis for the farmers in the region. It is plenty big to entertain a lovely centrum with many shopping opportunities, plus a very large Costco-like single building shopping arena that does not require a membership card to get in. There is little to make Nordham special in my memory. A river runs through it, a very small and narrow river that branches off and makes the centrum virtually an island. I never learned the name of the river. Ducks, however, love it. There is a very large and impressive church on one side of the centrum, and the center itself is lined with stores, a bakery, and a few nice places to eat. We stopped for coffee at one, sitting outside along one branch of the river. The waitress was very pleasant, but all she spoke was German. She did not speak English, or even a little Dutch. At that moment I felt far removed from the world I know, like a real tourist out of water. It was a refreshing experience. There was one remarkable thing about Nordham that I will always remember. In two separate places there were plaques to show where synagogues stood before the War. The synagogues did not return in peacetime, but the people of Nordham decided that it was important to remember where they stood. It was another example of holding onto memory, even horrible ones. Perhaps it demonstrates that level of cultural maturity that seems to run through Europe at present, the same sort of maturity that has allowed the nations on that continent to form the European Union. War may not be completely a thing of the past for the Europeans within that union, but they want it to be. Honoring the memory of the victims of past wars is an excellent way to promote peaceful cooperation among generations who otherwise might never know about events like the Holocaust. These people do not forget their history; they embrace it, even in small places that Google cannot find, like Nordham.

Travelblog 5: Crossing Borders

I don’t know what I expected. While we were “camping” in Dinkelland, we were only a few kilometers from the Dutch-German border. One afternoon, we decided to cross over into Germany just to see what we could see. Part of our motivation, I have to admit, was to able to report to family and friends that Diane and I saw something besides the Netherlands. Part of us was curious how different Germany would be. Mostly, though, it was something to do. It didn’t take long before we had left Holland and slipped into German territory. You would never have known it except for the signs, “Leaving Dinkleland,” and “Welcome to Germany,” the first in Dutch and the second, peculiarly enough, in German. Otherwise, everything seemed pretty much the same. The farmhouses looked similar; the terrain was just an extension of what we had left. The roads were pretty much the same, too – no autobahn out there. I felt cheated, somehow. I wondered at the openness, as if I was crossing from Idaho into Montana, not one whole country into another. I don’t know what I expected: barbed wire and armed guards patrolling? Checkpoints with officious border guards checking papers? We had our passports with us, just in case. But there was no barbed wire. There was no check point. There were no patrols or guards. It was, just, simple, easy, welcoming. I admit to a certain inherent prejudice against Germany, a certain expectation. My image is born of stories from a terrible time long ago, before I was even born. I have fought all my life to control those feelings, knowing they have no relevance in the modern world. And on that late September afternoon, I could see for myself how much the world, or at least Europe, had changed from the place my parents knew. It was refreshing. And yet, I hovered over a different memory, from 2004. We crossed a border then, and were stopped by a border patrol several kilometers in from the border on the main road. The soldiers were polite but grim. We noticed that there were men in the tall grass on either side of the road with heavy machine guns pointed at us. We asked the young soldier who approached us what was going on and he answered, in sparkling English, “Just routine, Sir.” He then looked us over and apparently decided that two middle aged Americans and an Englishwoman (our friend Candida) were no threat. He waved us through. That was in Northern Ireland, crossing over from the Irish Republic on our way to Belleek. The soldiers were Irish in the British military. Nine years later I puzzled over the fact that the Germans felt safer at their border than the Northern Irish did at theirs. In 1922, Hendrick Wilhelm van Loon wrote that change does come. It can be painfully slow, but it does come. Just crossing a border, I saw that he was right, and I began to feel a change within myself.

Travelblog 4: Bikes, Trains and Automobiles

Getting around in Holland is amazingly easy and efficient. Trains can take you almost anywhere, and where they don’t go you can always find a bus or tram that will. The road system is both immaculate and brilliantly planned, so if you are fortunate enough to own an automobile, or share one like Erik and Annemieke do, using a car is also very easy. But cars cannot beat the rapid transit system for going to the centers of larger towns like Amsterdam, Arnhem, den Bosch, den Haag, or Rotterdam. Between the cost of gas to get there and the cost of parking to be close to the center, you probably will pay less if you travel by train and/or bus. On top of that, if you buy a transportation card for a set amount, you get ticket discounts and a very convenient scan in-scan out system that keeps track of what you have spent. Travel guru Rick Steves swears by such cards, and I’m with him. Because we could not afford to rent a car this trip, and because Annemieke now has a driver’s license and part-time access to a car, we spent much of our vacation on the rails. Each trip was a comfortable and delightful experience. The trains are clean and well maintained, with roomy seating. If you travel during commuter hours seats might be a bit hard to find, but as a visitor you can pick less crowded times to go longer distances. If your destination is a larger city, you will be stunned by the bustle of activity in the central stations. Most have major shopping opportunities right there, from Starbuck’s to Albert Hein Express, and just off the main area stores selling just about anything you could want. It’s like airports, only better (Sorry, no duty-free for international travelers). The most amazing thing to me wherever I go is that there is so much stuff available to buy, and there are so many people dependent on our desire and ability to buy. I keep wondering how we all can afford all that stuff. But we do. And if you are a commuter in Holland, merchants of all sorts have made certain that you can find them while en route to work or home. The train system connects the country with remarkable ease and speed. Once in a city, using the trams or buses is just as easy, and the same travel card can be used to pay for it as long as you have enough credit on the card. And it’s fun – I love being able to sit back and watch the city roll by me while somebody else has the responsibility of driving. With my Dutch relatives along, I don’t even have to worry about watching for my stop! We used the train to get to all those cities mentioned above. We took the bus from the central station to the rock show in den Bosch. We took the tram in Amsterdam. We took a bus ride through the country from Culemborg to Tiel, where Diane found an outfit on a sale rack outside a lady’s store and could buy it with utter confidence that it could fit and would be stylin’ in America. Erik and I took a bus and tram, the slow way, through the fields around Culemborg to Viannen and then on to Utrecht, then took the regular train line back. We determined that a car was not a necessity in Holland, like it is here in Montana. Here rapid transit is a 70 MPH speed limit. In Holland, all you need is the trains and buses and trams and a good pair of walking shoes, or a bike. Bikes are still big in Holland. Wherever you go, there are bikes parked along bridge rails, store fronts, and train stations. Bicycle parking lots are always full. This trip, we experienced that first hand as well. For me, it was the first time I had been on a bike since 2007. For Di it was the first time since she was 17 years old.. And we survived. Not only did we survive, we enjoyed it. Erik and I shopped for groceries, splitting the load between us. Then we biked out into the country. Di and Annemieke biked on the trails around Ootmarsum in Dinkelland, and even crossed the border into Germany on their bikes. I think it safe to say that, as closely as possible, on this trip Diane and I went native and lived to tell about it.

Travelblog 3: Arnhem, Market Garden and Living Art

Sixty-nine tears ago, the Allies began a military campaign designed to liberate the Netherlands from German occupation. On June 6, they had successfully landed in Normandy and by August they had liberated the city of Paris. Now they turned their attention to freeing another ally controlled and oppressed by the German war machine since May 1940. The operation was called Market Garden. Key to the plan was capturing the primary bridge at Arnhem. This operation was the subject of Cornelius Ryan’s book (later a film) A Bridge Too Far. The fighting that took place in and around Arnhem, as well as other places throughout the region, was intense and bloody. Near Overloon, for example, the biggest tank battle to ever take place on Dutch soil occurred. Now a magnificent museum sits on that battle site, called Liberty Park. My brother Ted, who is visiting this weekend, and our good friend Joop, who lives here on Flathead Lake, were very young men in Holland during the occupation. They both remember Market Garden and the sudden wonderful hope that Holland’s war soon would be over. The operation failed and the Allied forces had to pull back. A good part of Holland remained under German control until the very end of the war seven months later. For me, the connection to those events is strong and palpable, partly through these two fine people close to my heart, partly because of my own empathy for people caught up in combat, partly because of my affinity for all things Dutch, good and bad. Yet, in our several previous trips to Holland I had never gone to Arnhem. This trip gave me my first chance in a roundabout way. Erik and Annemieke arranged a “camping” trip to the east of Holland in an area called Dinkelland (gotta love it), where we stayed for six days in a very comfortable cottage. We arrived on Saturday, September 28. On Sunday, in Arnhem, dozens of street artists and actor-performers were scheduled to set themselves up as living statues for a four hour outdoor exhibit that covered most of downtown Arnhem. Erik wanted to go. With his deep love for and talent with photography, this was an ideal opportunity, hopefully, to get some great pictures. As it turned out, a very large crush of like-minded people had the same idea. In fact, over one hundred thousand people came to see the Living Art exhibit. The performers were wonderful, the costuming and subjects imaginatively and meticulously presented, and each “display” was stationed far enough from the previous one on a pre-determined course that none were lost in the journey. There was one woman posing as Vermeer’s, The Kitchen Maid, her entire tableau looking like it was made of chocolate, including her. There were statues of Beethoven, Joan of Arc, Mary Poppins, Don Quixote, a frontiersman, a pirate captain, and many, many others. My favorite was a young boy seated on a toilet reading a book. I watched him for several minutes, admiring the fact that he never moved an eyelash. The city embraced the moment with delight and well-organized chaos. The crush of spectators and photographers were having a wonderful time. And yet, my thoughts returned again and again to those terrible days sixty-nine years before. The scars of that battle have all but disappeared. I doubt that anyone could find the areas that were shot to pieces without a proper and very knowledgeable guide. Before the Living Art exhibit began, Erik and I had lunch in La Place, inside the largest bookstore in Arnhem. Looking around at the buildings surrounding the dining room, I kept reflecting on that combat and on the war that was so horrific it should have ended all wars for good. It did, within the confines of Western Europe. Yet there was not one shred of evidence to be seen. But the historians knew. On the display tables in the bookstore, not fifty feet from where we dined, were at least two dozen books on some aspect of Market Garden and the fighting in Arnhem. At least half a dozen were written specifically for the youth market. It made me take pause. It seems to me that the Dutch have long memories, and that they want to make sure that future generations mark and remember as well. If they can do that, if they can reach beyond the living memories of people like my brother and my friend, perhaps they can keep memory alive for future generations. Mark the terror that struck Arnhem 69 years ago. Remember what war can do. Then go out and make living art.