Freezing Frenzy

A few days of below freezing weather may not seem significant to those of us used to a few months(or even more) of winter temperatures, but here in The Netherlands it results in frenzy.

The media goes on alert. People stand in lines for hours, rush to sporting goods stores and even play hooky from work. Everyone is abuzz! The source of all this excitement?

Ice Skating!

The Swiss have the Alps, Canadians play hockey, the Nordic countries do the Biathalon, but the Dutch are absolutely nuts about skating. It was estimated that around 2.5 million people were likely to strap on their skates last weekend. That’s one in six of the country’s population. A Dutch ice skate manufacturer sold almost 75,000 pairs of skates over the last two weeks, selling out it’s entire stock.

We contributed to that madness by heading out to the Bosbaan, a mile long body of water used in warmer times for rowing competitions. It was amazing to see hundreds of people zipping, twirling, stumbling and falling all over the place. Indeed reports suggested that that Dutch hospitals were overwhelmed with skating related accidents–my wrist is only mildly sprained.

An acquaintance provided a couple of reasons for this Dutch enthusiasm. It’s a sign of the age old Dutch struggle with water. Being able to stand on the ice is a tangible victory over their ancient foe. It’s also seen as a cultural touchstone. Look at paintings from the Dutch masters and they abound with pastoral scenes of people skating on flooded farm fields.

But probably the biggest reason is the relative rarity of conditions necessary to skate on natural ice. In other words it just doesn’t get cold that often. It’s been twelve years since the last significant cold snap. It’s also been that long since the last running of the Elfstedentocht, a 200 kilometer skating marathon through eleven cities in the north of the country. Since it officially began in 1909, the race has only been held 15 times. Organizers of the race constantly monitor the temperature and ice conditions, deciding on the spur of the moment the it’s time. Racers generally only have a day or two at most to prepare. Unfortunately, it’s been raining the past few days and it’s looking like it might be at least another year until the next Elfstedentocht.

But of course, winter isn’t over. Today’s rain could easily be replaced by another blast of artic air. And if it does, you can be rest assured that rather than moaning about the cold, the Dutch will head back to their attics and pull out those skates.

 

Memorial Day

Yesterday, May 4th was Dodenherdenking, Remembrance of the Dead day here in The Netherlands. It commemorates all the Dutch who died in wars and conflicts since World War II. The occasion is marked by gatherings at monuments and important locations throughout the country. People of all ages lay sprays of flowers on the monuments and observe two minutes of silence at 8:00 p.m.

We left our house around 7:30 last night, joining a steady stream of people converging on a small memorial a few blocks away. Dutch flags hung outside every other house. Hundreds watched and listened to a quiet speech, then stilled themselves as the moment approached. Withered old men in dusty uniforms mixed with teenagers in blue jeans and short skirts. Young police officers stood at attention while children plucked wild daisies from the grass to add to the growing display around the the monument. No one made a sound.

After a trumpet played the Dutch national anthem, a low murmur worked its way through the crowd and people began to disperse. Some wandered back to their homes, others stepped forward to lay still more flowers and some gathered in small groups and talked.

The entire affair was over in less than half an hour. There were no fireworks or food vendors. The day is not even an official holiday. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, the event was extremely moving.  The people really seemed to care and wanted to be there. Next year we’ll bring flowers.

 

A Day At The Beach

They resembled brilliantly colored tiny crescent moons, dancing just above the waves off the beach. But only if moons could twist and swirl, coming toward you, then rapidly darting away, playing in the wind like puppies gamboling in the grass. We walked up the wet sand to get a closer look, tiny shells crunching under our feet, leaping out of the way now and again to avoid the foaming surf that threatened our shoes. We tried to keep away from the drier parts of the beach to stay out of the whisking streams of sand racing down the shore, driven along by the nearly constant 35 miles per hour winds.

As we drew closer we could see the jewel-toned moons were attached by ropes to wetsuit-clad wind surfers. Rather than the usual sails, these surfers were using kites to propell themselves across the surface of the water. As they zipped back and forth, we made our way up into a partially sheltered spot in the dunes, hoping for some relief from the sand that stung our shins and filled our pockets. With a few buckets of water carefully hauled up the hillside we dampened the sand to built castles. We collected shells to spell out messages to each other. We basked in the sun when it shook itself free of the fluffy clouds scooting by and closed our eyes against the driving sand whenever a gust invaded our alcove threatening to turn us into dunes ourselves if we rested too long.

The beach and dunes form the north coast of the island of Ameland, one of the Frisian (or Wadden in Dutch) islands. Located about three miles off the northern coast of The Netherlands, Ameland is a narrow strip of land a mile or two wide and about 20 miles long. Once a whaling and fishing community, the island is now primarily a tourist destination. The four small villages on the island are separated by sheep and cattle pastures as well as a number of protected nature preserves. They are connected by a series of trails and small roads that make biking the best way to see the island — but rent a bike with gears to cope with the wind, it hardly stopped blowing the three days we were there.

The main village, Nes is filled with beautiful small brick houses, all with stunning gardens — you haven’t seen hydrangea until you’ve visited Nes. There are also a surprising number of excellent restaurants, a few shops and a traditional Dutch windmill.

The island is not particularly isolated, I don’t think anything is in this crowded land, but it is a bit off the beaten trail. We hardly heard a word of English, as most of the visitors seem to be Dutch or German (only a few hours east). Unlike Amsterdam, waitresses and vendors even allowed us to practice our Dutch — just try asking for Ibuprofen when you hardly know the language!

We had a great time on Ameland and might just drag you up there if you come to visit.

More Photos

 

A Very Small Country

The Netherlands is a tiny country; drive south for two hours and you pass into Belgium, drive east for two hours and you’ll reach the autobahns of Germany, travel north or west and you’ll soon hit the beaches of the North Sea. This close proximity makes it easy to get around and see the sites — and there are many to see. But if you don’t have the time or inclination to drive around, or figure out the train timetables, you can always go to Madurodam.

Located just outside The Hauge (a city 45 minutes South of Amsterdam), Madurodam contains recreations of all the major buildings and building styles in The Netherlands. From the Anne Frank House to the International Court of Justice, from windmills to bulb fields, it’s all there in one easy spot. In two hours — less if you walk fast or don’t have children racing back and forth from building to building — you can take in nearly all The Netherlands has to offer. Chances are you will have children with you, however, because everything in Madurodam is constructed 25 times smaller than reality. In other words it’s a village full of dollhouses.

But what dollhouses they are! Each miniature is modeled on an actual building and meticulously crafted to contain each and every detail found on the original. The two foot tall windmills actually turn, tour boats motor up and down the tiny canals, the butresses on the cathedral fly just as assuredly as those on its larger counterpart. The girls were continually fascinated by each new discovery. “This is soooo cool,” came out of their mouths at least a dozen times. Their only complaint was that they couldn’t sit down and actually play with everything they saw.

 

Queen’s Day

Today is Koninginnedag or Queen’s Day here in The Netherlands, a national holiday that celebrates the birthday of Queen Beatrix. Never mind that her actual birthday is in January — she very graciously kept the holiday on the date of her mother’s birthday when she ascended the throne so that people would not have to celebrate in the cold and dark and rain of winter. And celebrate they do! The day is a combination of the Fourth of July, The Minnesota State Fair, and National Night Out. Throw in the world’s largest garage sale and millions of people wearing orange (the queen’s color) and you start to get the picture.

The festivities actually start the night before–informally known as “Queen’s Night” — where those so inclined head enmasse to bars and clubs for a night of revelry and heavy drinking. I suspect the morning of Queen’s Day rivals New Year’s Day for hangovers per capita. We chose to lay low that night, going to bed early in order to get up and start fresh the next day.

We met up with some Australian friends also experiencing their first Queen’s Day and quickly discovered a country completely dedicated to free enterprise. Along all the major streets and public parks every square inch of sidewalk was occupied with vendors selling the contents of their attics, garages and basements. A pre-holiday survey suggested that people expected to sell close to 300 million dollars worth of second-hand goods. Since this is the only day of the year these types of sales are allowed, competition for prime spots can be fierce. Despite laws banning it, people start marking off sections of sidewalk with chalk or tape days before, like people who show up at parades back home hours in advance, placing their picnic blanket and folding lawn chairs on the curb to reserve their spots.

All this commercial activity is not restricted to adults either. Certain sections of town are reserved exclusively for children, including a huge park a few blocks from our house. In addition to selling vast quantities of outgrown toys, these budding entrepreneurs also offer home-made baked goods and candies, cleverly constructed games of chance (imagine a pinball machine made of cardboard and sewing pins), face painting and hair coloring (orange, of course) and pass the hat for live musical and dance performances.

By afternoon, the selling begins to wane a bit; it’s time for bargain hunters intent on picking up a few things to ooh and ahh about before stashing them in the attic to sell next year. It’s also time for concerts and block parties to begin. We were told that every band in the country, no matter how professional or polished would be playing somewhere on Queen’s Day.

It’s all incredibly crowded and chaotic, but loads of fun. As we walked home from our last street party, Katie remarked that this was her best Queen’s Day ever. Realizing this was her first Queen’s Day ever, she started to qualify the comment, hesitated, then shook her head and said, “No, this IS my best Queen’s Day ever.”

 

Naarden Vesting

One of the benefits of actually living somewhere rather than just visiting is the chance to dig a little deeper and discover interesting places not found on the typical tourist maps. The city of Naarden, a bedroom community about 25 kilometers east of Amsterdam, is one such find that would easily be missed if you didn’t have a local guide to point it out. Luckily for us, one of Ruth’s colleagues and his wife very graciously served as just such guides and introduced us to its charms.

With cobblestone streets, picturesque old buildings (the town hall, built in 1601, is apparently the oldest building in the world in which to get married) and a nice assortment of shops and restaurants, the original center of town, known as Naarden Vesting, is good for a pleasant stroll. But what makes the city unique are the 17th century fortifications that surround it. Shaped like a giant nine point star is a water filled moat that rings the city. Immediately inside the moat is a series of earthen battlements that rise and fall and twist and turn in a series of small man-made hills, many of which were hollowed out to house soldiers or store ammunition and some of which now house a small museum as well as shops and restaurants. Others are closed off behind heavy iron doors, a tantalizingly unavailable slice of local history.

These battlements now serve as a public park, traversed by footpaths and bicycle trails, frequented by dog walkers and joggers. Though hard to imagine any foe being able to break through these defenses, the Spanish, French and Prussians each occupied the city for a time during the area’s tumultuous history. Luckily, they left the fortification intact for future invaders such as ourselves.

One more step in our effort to have hot chocolate in every city in Europe

The view of the moat from inside the city.