Caleb starts the dishwasher, and I drop yogurt on the floor, with a bit getting on Zulu. He excuses himself from the kitchen to clean while I do the same by the cabinet. I notice a wolf spider by the bathroom door, known for hunting prey without spinning a web and wandering into homes for warmth. Caleb gets the bicycles out of their stored spots and gets them ready to ride. I have a drunken loop planned to entertain us.
The bike path between the farms and the canal is beautiful. At one point, Caleb is forced to catch up to the deer that thinks we are chasing it so that it will stay in a field and relax instead of continuing to criss-cross the lane and exhaust itself. We ride to Huis Scherpenzeel, and though it’s lovely to look at, there is staff on the grounds preparing for an event at this venue. We stop at Restaurant de Dennen to get out of the rain, and as we sit on the patio, we watch a photography class disperse, and some guys on race bikes join under the umbrellas for protection.
I would’ve gotten a coffee, but they weren’t open yet. I’m ok riding in sprinkles, but we’ve traveled enough to know that some places this seemingly innocent rain can lead to monsoons or hail, so better to be prepared, which, funny enough, we hadn’t brought our raincoats with us (for the ride). As soon as the falling water lets up, we’re back on our borrowed bikes. We continue on to Castle Renswoude, built in 1654, which offers its architecture and surrounding park for our enjoyment on foot.
There is a pigeon tower where the birds could fly in and out freely. They delivered mail and were bred for ornamental purposes and meat. Keeping pigeons and having buildings appear larger, due to their reflection in the moat, conferred more status on the estate. We see a mute swan, a Muscovy duck (known for hissing instead of quacking), and a Eurasian red squirrel. As for plants: a pink shrubby cinquefoil, purple wisteria, and yellow irises.
We are on our way to Woudenberg, where we can explore more of the Grebbelinie defenses (bunkers and waterline structures), when I stop abruptly, and Caleb falls off his bike, and not gently. It’s lunch time anyway, so I have an apple on the way to Pannenkoe, known for 50 variations of massive, traditional Dutch pancakes. Having ridden in the sun, with tan hands as proof, we sit inside. We ordered a coffee that comes with a chocolate to support Mercy Ships, instead of the traditional mini cookie.
Caleb remembers meeting a woman on Veteran’s Day who worked on those ships for almost a decade, and I’m happy for the memory. Our flower-shaped bread sampler shows up with a steak knife poking out of the center. Our dips: hummus, aioli, and herb butter. I would definitely order this again. Caleb asks for a four-cheese calzone, and gets a four-meat one instead. I want to try the apple-raisin pancake, but I get pineapple because appel and ananas sound so close.
This one is twice the size of the one we got at the beach. I apply a thick dusting of cinnamon on top, not on purpose, but the fruit helps balance the combination. Our kind hosts left us with a 10€ coupon that we definitely appreciate. We drop the food off at the house and set off on foot towards the shops to spend the afternoon. Caleb makes me a coffee when we return, and we read after dinner to let Caleb recover tonight so he’ll be ready for tomorrow.
I sleep through the night and wake up early and refreshed. I’m glad to be feeling better. As I come downstairs, Anouska is just finishing a bike ride in preparation for all the sitting she’ll be doing on their flight to Japan. I drink a coffee, and we’re out the door after hugs. We pass a field of cows while sitting in the quiet train car (symbolized by a person with headphones, a book, and a laptop). This doesn’t seem to cover apple etiquette, as I imagine the bovines eating more delicately than the woman across from us.
I lead us southwest out of Den Haag Centraal instead of west towards our destinations, but this is fortuitous, and we end up at the Nieuwe Kerk. It is a Dutch Baroque church dating to the 1650s, but it ceased to be a church in 1969 and is now a concert hall, which explains why it is closed. The roof spans the 31.4 m by 15.7 m building without supporting pillars and supports the 53 m tower. Some people resting here: De Witt brothers (lynched politicians), Reinier Pauw (mayor who helped found the VOC), and Baruch Spinoza (philosopher who died from grinding optical lenses).
I had planned on the Binnenhof being under renovation. What I didn’t expect to find was some history and art on the containment walls. William II commissioned the palace in 1248 after being crowned king in Germany. In 1570, the Binnenhof became the center of government for the Republic of the Seven United Provinces of the Netherlands. It was even more surprising to find a viewing tower built just for curious passersby. I’m excited for this opportunity, and it’s free. There are 4,000 rooms, of which none are the same, and the Netherlands’ first tennis court was built here around 1500.
In the 60s and 70s, the Binnenhof served as a car park that was regularly full and became car-free in 1983. The canal that surrounded the palace was filled in 1862, and the renovation will restore part of the Hofgracht. Between 1880 and 1924, trams ran through the Binnenhof, first horse-drawn and then electric in 1906. After a 360° photoshoot, it’s time for coffee, as well as yellow velvet cake (without the light cocoa of red velvet) and a glass of house-made pink (bubbly) lemonade at Dudok (in the restaurant, not the adjoining patisserie).
We time our visit to the Mauritshuis, a former city palace of Johan Maurits, built in 1641, just right. The tropical wood paneling and landscape murals were destroyed by fire in 1704. It was refurbished and a century later became a museum in 1822. It was renovated from 2012 to 2014 to add an underground foyer and more exhibition space. There are paintings of bouquets, foods, people, and critters. Some that stand out are the Miniature portrait of Peeter Stevens, 1790, Apelles Painting Campaspe, 1630, and Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds, and Pretzels, 1615.
Girl by a High Chair, 1640, features a three-year-old wearing gold jewelry with Brazilian sweet treats within reach. This girl lives in luxury, having her portrait painted, while the harsh reality of the sugar plantation workers remains invisible. While Albert Eckhout went to Brazil to paint turtles with teeth that they don’t have, he also did portraits of Indigenous Brazilians, Africans (at least 24,000 transported to Brazil), and mixed-heritage people as part of a colonial propaganda project. He was hired by Johan Maurits, who owned dozens of slaves and built his wealth and legacy on a slave-based system.
In a room is Rembrandt’s The Anatomy Lesson of Dr Nicolaes Tulp, 1632 (where one of the surgeons is attempting to look at the exposed forearm and hand on the table). On the next wall is a photograph of only a severed hand, similar to the one that Rembrandt never saw, but decided to add to the stump on the right arm. This contrast of barbaric amputation and scientific desire fascinates Stephan Vanfleteren, whose mom shares the surname of the criminal Kindt, the man on the table. In another room sits Paulus Potter’s masterpiece, The Young Bull, 1647.
The painting is life-size at over 7 ft by 11 ft. The realism, dedicated to an animal’s texture and detailed flies, makes the image almost photographic. This piece challenged tradition by treating the bull with the same importance usually reserved for human portraits and historical scenes. In the 19th century, it was considered as famous as Rembrandt’s The Night Watch, 1642. In 1715, the militia painting was cut to fit a smaller room; it was knifed in 1911 and 1975, and attacked with acid in 1990. Records show that the canvas has been treated 25 times, a measure of how important the painting is. I’d rather have the bull on my wall.
Most of the museum has a comfortable crowd, perhaps always another person admiring the same space as you, but when I got close to Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring, 1665, it was only for a moment. There seemed to be a school group, a foreign tour group, and others beginning to tighten their milling distance. These groups varied in height, so that I became enclosed on many levels and quickly left that room. Caleb hadn’t bothered jumping into the mosh pit, so he was glad to see me survive and follow him to the lobby, where the crowd is thick, like they are waiting for the doors to open outside a concert.
We catch the tram near Kneuterdijk Palace, which will take us to the beach (Scheveningen strand), the only stop announced in English. We didn’t bring swimsuits or sunning towels, so we walked to the pier to see the sights from there. On offer, a duo bungee jump for 220€ and a zipline each for 45€. One would be fun, but the other would leave Humpty unable to be put back together again, and we can’t have that. It’s considerate that the buildings keep their distance from the water (probably a safety thing too) and allow the people to spread out in the sand.
The end of the pier is surrounded by moon jellyfish, lurking in the brown water because the North Sea is shallow and constantly churning up sand, clay, and fish poop. What a view to inspire an appetite. Inside De Pier, I order a coffee and remind Caleb that we have to pay for water here (which is why he has some in his bag) to accompany the croquettes with fries, a croque monsieur with goat cheese (and ketchup packets on top instead of the grilled cheese being baked or broiled), and a pannenkoeken with Canadian bacon, cheese, and pineapple. It’s a good thing Caleb also has a collapsible dish with him, so we can pack our leftovers.
We take the tram to a stop near an entrance for the Haagse Bos (The Hague Forest). The first part is a half-shaded (under the tree canopies) picnic area, and to our right is a fallow deer sanctuary. We cross the street and enter the more forest-like section of the park. We pass cyclists, strollers, joggers, and sunbathers. There is a grey heron fishing, some goslings in the water under parental supervision, and a coot family enjoying their cool piece of paradise. The front entrance of the Royal Palace has a few armed guards (stay away), but the back has guards on the other side of a decorative gate (take a picture and move along), so that’s what we did.
We are at Haag Centraal longer than usual, as Caleb figures out which train we should take after a train issue near Gouda caused a delay. People are standing in the aisle during rush hour, but still reading paperbacks or working on their laptops. I was excited to see so many readers. About 30% of the Dutch population reads a book almost daily, while approximately 54% of Americans read at a 6th-grade equivalent or below. Another study finds that the Dutch are only 3% more likely to read at least one book per year than Americans. I’m currently on book 21 for this year, but I understand that’s because I don’t work and am not currently in school.
Caleb has enjoyed sampling beers, so we stop on the bus ride back to the house to pick a few up. I bring in the dishes (cleaned and returned from the neighbor), put the mail in a visible spot, and feed Zulu. We have leftovers for dinner, and Caleb remembers we should take the frozen dishes out in the morning to thaw so they’re easier to cook in the evening. Caleb has chosen two spring beers, one a tropical fruit IPA, Daisy Sunshine, and the other a fruity (with caramel tones) blonde, Nog Eendje (Just One More). Caleb goes up to bed while I stay with Zulu to read by daylight until the lamp is needed, too.
I have the same breakfast as yesterday, put my Kindle in my bag, and we (just Caleb and I) are out the door. Caleb runs back to the house and has to be let in to get his headphones for the train. I admire the view while he does so. I noticed the throw-as-you-go (or tilted bicycle) trash cans along the bike path where cyclists can toss bottles without dismounting while riding past on a bike and on the bus. The reason for their rarity in the States is that they present a potential collision hazard for bikes (unlike cars, debris, and plants in the lane) and would require costly municipal maintenance.
On the train to Gouda, we found seats apart, and I noticed the graffiti and green fields. At the station is a preserved ornamentation from at least 1869, as the identity of the architect is unclear. Submitting drawings with a building permit wasn’t mandatory until 1901. Outside the station is a structure, De Telepoort, created to connectthe old city gates with the new city entrance, unveiled in 2023. The design was inspired by historical elements of the town hall, Visbanken, and St. Janskerk. Under the roof frame arches are five ceramic statues representing the old trades of the city: candlemaking, ropemaking, waffle baking, pottery, and a trading center.
Across the street is De Kassboerin (The Cheese Girl), one of fifty painted concrete replicas to celebrate the 750th anniversary of Gouda receiving city rights. The plan was to visit the Saint-John Church when it opened at 9 am, but the streets have so many views to offer on the way that I was easily distracted. It didn’t help that once we got between the Old City Hall, built between 1448 and 1450 (currently under construction), and De Goudse Waag (The Gouda Weigh House), where the historic Cheese Market is held, Caleb didn’t want to leave all the cheese wheels.
Tourists chose their seats and posed with the cheese and the horse-pulled wagon. We took advantage of the fresh food market in the same square. We got to try our first cheese waffle, and the chef made the process look easy, which, once learned, I’m sure it is. I was super excited to try something new, knowing full well that I would love it. I should have bought more, but they might not have survived the morning. Minutes later, I’m watching a woman flip mini pancakes (poffertjes) in a dimpled pan, so I should obviously try them too. Caleb orders them with syrup, not realizing that the powdered sugar is a traditional (perhaps mandatory) topping, so we get all the sweetness.
We are given two wooden two-pronged forks for sharing our dozen little treats. The crowd thickens, so we quickly find a spot to watch the man in the bright yellow suit. These classic bargaining rituals are centuries old, and this show continues to be put on every Thursday morning from April through August. The men and women show up in their traditional dress with yellow wooden shoes. I’m not sure if this happens every week, but there’s a special guest. She used to be a cheese woman and is now a race driver in the men’s division. I only know this because I happened to stand next to a Dutch woman translating for her friend.
The farmers and cheese shop owners arrive, and the man in the suit starts his introduction, in Dutch, of course. What surprised the crowd was the English, German, and French that followed. I already had a guy with two cameras to my left trying to photograph and video everything, so when a woman squeezed in and stuck her arm between Caleb and me on the right, I pushed her camera button for her, and then her arm. I know about tight spaces, but I will not support someone else’s bodyweight, especially in a crowd where crushing is a possibility. I thought that might be it, but then two men approach the pallet of cheese in front of us.
They reenact how the selling process would go with slapping the cheese to check firmness and ripeness, taking a core sample for smell, texture, and taste, (and giving some to the audience), then slapping hands during haggling until an agreement is reached and a firm handshake exchanged. I’m glad we stayed to see this. Now we can walk to Sint Janskerk, which was rebuilt after a catastrophic fire in 1552. The stained glass windows (all 72 now world-famous) show scenes from the New Testament in plain stories instead of the medieval interpretations that were harder to understand. This church is on the list of the top 100 Dutch monuments.
We paid $25 and were given a palm-sized guided-tour device that would tell us some historical and political significance of the windows. Much of the stained glass was donated by bishops, noblemen, and politicians for charity, prestige, or propaganda. Cities (Haarlem, Delft, Rotterdam, etc) donated windows for economic collaboration or city pride. In 2014, the choir pillars were sinking and needed a new foundation. During the excavation, thousands of loose bones were found of those buried over the centuries, the last being in 1832. Several dozen complete skeletons were well-preserved from prominent families, if their graves weren’t cleared, such as the seven members of the Van Rietveld family.
There’s so much to admire, so I appreciate that the audio tour is self-paced, as I don’t mind exploring from my own curiosity and then being brought back to look at something with a new perspective. Windows 7 (King’s Window) and 23 (Offering of Elijah) are the tallest, at about 65 ft, and were created in 1557 (gifted by King Philip II of Spain) and in 1562 (donated by Margaret of Parma, the Governor of the Netherlands). Window 15 depicts Jesus getting baptized, created in 1555, and was the first to be placed in the church after the devastating fire.
Anticipating the German invasion, all 72 windows were dismantled in 1939 and stored vertically to keep the glass from bowing in 201 boxes scattered to surrounding farmhouses. They were reinstalled in their original frames in 1947. A chapel was constructed in 1934 to properly display the Canons Regular of St. Augustine as seven windows instead of being combined into two large scenes, as they had been after being rescued from a monastery that was to be demolished. At some point, I find myself going up a staircase, since the door was open, into a small room with an even smaller view of rooftops. Once the tour concludes, I walk another circuit around pews and podiums to catch more details and angles.
Though live music happens almost daily from April through the fall, this concert feels more spontaneous. A few of us sit and listen to the singer, accompanied by a piano. This is a great way to spend the morning, which is the intent of any church for its followers every week. The main organ, built by Moreau in 1736, cost almost $18,000 dollars (once they were invented). The design can be described as French Baroque with German influences. Over the centuries, Mitterreither, Lohman, and Witte added their special touches to this mighty instrument.
Time for an afternoon coffee at David’s Gelato Café, so I will have an affogato. We walk through a kitchen supply shop on our way to the Weigh House for their museum tour (which has been delayed). We struggled to find the Kamphuisen Siroopwafel Factory because of the street organ (pansfluiter) blocking the entrance. Inside, it is unclear when the next tour will be, so we agree to try again later with this attraction, too. One shop has orange espresso machines for 500€, another is full of yarn and wood crafts, and then Woppies Treasures, where, among the figurines and dishes, Caleb will find a Watership Down album (a traumatic bunny tale from 1978).
On our way to the next stop on our itinerary, we pass the Bananenpakhuis. Around 1600, the building had a floating cellar made. In 1928, the ground floor was converted into a banana warehouse, and the cellar was filled with rubble, which was restored in 2010. The Roode Leeuw (Red Lion) Windmill is one of the country’s oldest windmills that is still used to grind grain and sell the flour to bakeries. We were hoping to buy some as a website said they were open on Thursdays and Saturdays. A post mill was built here in 1619 and replaced with a tower mill in 1727, which was renovated in 1771. A century later, it burned down and was rebuilt.
We paid $37 to get into Museum Gouda, and my pre-trip exchange rate was off by a few cents, so it’s a good thing I was prepared for that and not the $25 printed on the tickets. The first exhibit concerns the remnants of St John’s Church, where we spent the majority of our morning. Before the fire, each guild and brotherhood had its own altar, so there were over 50 that were turned to ashes. There is a voluminous cloak (called a cope) worn by the priest during worship. The aurifrisia (vertical decorative strips) are embroidered with gold thread and silk. There is a richly decorated garment (similar to a serape) that is worn by the priest during the Eucharist.
We visit the Mad Cell, where people were tortured via the whipping post, breaking wheel, and Spanish horse. Epileptics and patients with severe mental health issues were enclosed in a wooden bed to prevent injury to themselves and others. Psychiatric patients were locked in a cupboard with a small bed, toilet, and window, and food was passed through a hatch in the door. If they weren’t mad when they went in, I’m sure they were fully insane after these treatments and living conditions. Gouda had a small and vibrant Jewish community, of which 388 out of around 500 were killed during the war. They now attend synagogue services in Rotterdam or The Hague.
There’s a room dedicated to barbers and hairdressers, people who change our appearance and listen to our lives while they work. It’s a nice way to show appreciation for a job that doesn’t get mentioned, unless in film credits. There’s a room on faith in Gouda (civic guard, working orphan, or corrupted prophet). The best room is the one with the scale model of the city in 1562, the church being rebuilt. There are illustrated timelines on the walls showing the population changes due to immigration, plague epidemics, poverty, and the development of the clay pipe industry.
The Gouda Pipe Makers Guild was established in 1660. There is a pipe case made of ivory, silver, rubies, and mica. The pipe cleaners are topped with horses and cows, and the tobacco boxes with engraved images of dogs, windmills, and boats. There is a massive amount of pottery: ginger jars, painted vases, decorated tableware, tile tableaus, apothecary jars, Delft pitchers, and even chess pieces. A quarter of Gouda’s residents worked in pottery factories to export their goods around the world. The pottery was cast and fired in large quantities and then decorated by hand with bird motifs, floral designs, and inspired landscapes.
There are over 5,000 pieces that have been collected through purchases, donations, and factory estates when they closed. The feminine exhibit shows remnants of work from a midwife (1795), a needlework sampler (1768), a candle maker (1905), a children’s author (1850), and a painter (1989) who made a difference while under the control of men, a fascist regime, and being paid less. We wander into the museum’s courtyard, where there is a stone sculpture of the Gouda coat of arms (1739) that was part of the Rotterdam Gate before it was demolished, and the Lazarus Gate (1609), which formerly served as the entrance to a leper hospital.
There are ten signs, all of them about Erasmus (one of the most famous Dutchmen), and a majority of them by the church discussing a widow’s house, a medieval library, and his humanist works. We return to the Kamphuisen Siroopwafel Factory and are in luck this time. We are sold a tour ticket and wait with a few others for the door to open. We are given an audio wand and a hair net before the introductory video is shown (in Dutch only). Some of the ingredients that go into these delicious treats annually are: suiker (50,000 kg of caster sugar from caramelised sugar beets), ei (45,000 eggs), roomboter (more than 36,000 kg of butter containing vitamins A, D, and E), and zout (as 6 grams of salt per day is recommended to help regulate body fluid level and blood pressure).
Visitors can get on a hamster wheel connected to a giant mixer and help stir the dough. I thought Caleb just wanted a photo opportunity, but the kids behind us climbed up next when they saw how excited I was. I was first introduced to stroopwafels by an Egyptian friend in Bahrain and have maintained a relationship with both since. There’s a tasting station of different syrups, but I thought there were multiple pumps to accommodate the group of 15 to 20. The factory’s recipe from 1810 is the oldest in the Netherlands, and they use it to produce 10,000 siroopwafels per day. We watch as the dough gets stamped into a round waffle.
The only secret, other waffles are made and cut in half to insert the syrup. These waffles must be thinner because the syrup is pressed between them, with the waffle grid mark visible on both sides. We climb the stairs, and I don’t remember what was up there except for a slide entrance and two old woman who were waiting to go back down, so they called toward the rest of our group to delay their ascent. We can watch the waffles on the belt from up here and see the discards, which is probably what we were sampling in the front. No complaints here. Caleb goes down the slide first, and I don’t hear anything. I come flying out, laughing after landing on my butt.
If I worked here, I would want to slide on my breaks. I think everywhere should have an element of play. Each waffle is properly baked, measured, weighed, and scanned (in a special bakery lab kind of way) to ensure that only perfection is getting packaged and shipped around the world. The factory even installed a special trade mechanism: return an audioguide, receive a waffle. We’re in luck, too, that they have a stroopwafel liqueur that we wouldn’t mind trying, but don’t want to fly with. The café barista brings out samples of their cinnamon caramel blend that, because federal laws prohibit direct-to-consumer alcohol shipping overseas, can’t be mailed to the States.
The exit door leads to the space between buildings that are street-facing. Having had good luck here the second time, we approach the Weigh House for round two. The tour starts outside and then goes inside and upstairs, where we can continue to tap our audioguides around the room. Milk wool is a regenerated protein fiber made from casein. This fiber dates back to the 1930s, but taking one hundred pounds of milk to create three pounds of fiber for knitting something silky doesn’t seem eco-friendly. We sample some cheese and add some to our take-home collection.
It’s time to eat again, so I followed some online recommendations. We inquire at Lunchcafé Juuls, but they are only sitting diners in the sun, so we continue on to Brownies & downieS (because mongoloid is too offensive). We sit down, and they give us a few minutes to look over the menu of their closed kitchen. We walk into a place with a busy patio and are brought two 3€ bottles of water. I should’ve specified I wanted tap water, but these are already open. Swing Gouda keeps their menus in album covers and TVs in their toilet stalls. Caleb will return for the Watership Down album (for Jessi) while I listen to Super Trouper by ABBA (1980).
We stop by the Cheese Experience on our way to the train. It’s too late for a tour, but the gift shop is still open. I chose more historic education over the modern immersive option. Their website has a combination ticket to see cheese, waffles, and the church for 31.50€. I glance up every so often from my book while we’re on the train to glimpse the green, blue, yellow, and white in the passing scenery. There is a demonstration protesting the war in Gaza at the station that also frequently occurs at other stations, on campuses, in central squares, and around buildings in The Hague.
We get back to the house after they’ve eaten dinner, but that doesn’t stop Gert from opening a Tropical White from Rock City Brewing (a local microbrewery) while Anouska warms up a pita with cheese as our starter. She has accommodated Caleb’s anti-coconut taste buds by substituting the coconut milk (just for him) in her homemade curry. She sets a small serving of red bell pepper slices on the table that we are to finish before dessert (salted caramel ice cream for me). Gert is so excited to try the Crew Series: Thibo – Pandan Sour, especially with its neon-green color (reminiscent of a BFC Monster available between 2007 and 2008).
It is brewed by Dutch Bargain (an agreement made while drinking, where one of the involved parties takes an advantage over the other. Every time you get a hold of one of our beers, we lose one.) in Groede, located in the westernmost province of the Netherlands. Had I known his reaction would be so perfect, I would have filmed it to watch again (which is why Caleb avoided it at all). I was quickly given the rest of the can’s contents to consume alone while the guys opened a bottle of Het Verlangen Weizen from ‘t Mirakel. The Brewery’s name refers to a story about a Virgin Mary statue thrown into a canal in 1444 and recovered days later unmarred.
This beer is a modern twist on a traditional German style because of the addition of chamomile and possibly some other herbs. We have a more endearing laugh when we notice that Zulu has climbed into one of their suitcases. We say our goodbyes and our goodnights, as they will leave tomorrow, while we are gone. We are on cat duty until we leave, when other friends have been scheduled to tend to his needs. We unpack our day bags of papers and treats, and though it’s time for bed, Caleb will ask that I bring his book to bed. His stories of boats and hoes can wait until tomorrow’s travels.
I wake up congested and add milk to my coffee so I can drink it faster while I eat a banana and some yogurt with blueberries. Caleb has our transportation route ready. We grab our bags, say our see-you-laters, and are out the door. I saw a bright red and yellow bird, which could possibly be an escaped golden pheasant, but the colors quickly disappeared before I could capture any proof. The bus to Amersfoort leaves every ten minutes (during the work week), and Caleb likes tapping us both in and out, so we aren’t charged a missed check-out fee.
A standard bus ride is $1.15 to board and $0.20 per kilometer thereafter. If you haven’t checked out by the ride’s end, you are automatically charged $4.40, the full fare. Forgetting on the train will cost $22. There is a refund option, but this is limited before the payment card may be temporarily blocked. Our ride costs $2.85. You can spot a central station by the number of bus stops and bicycle parking lanes out front. We have a look in the kiosk (checking for egg and cress sandwiches) and find egg & tomato, cheese, salmon & cream cheese, and chicken & egg.
The train pulls up to the Amersfoort station, and we board for Utrecht. As we sit down, we know we are in seats that are too fancy for us (first class), so Caleb asks Gert via text, who responds with “look at the number over the door.” There are 1s and 2s, and then smaller car numbers. The next train will take us to the entrance of the Spoorweg (Railway) Museum, established in 1927. A man (either the conductor or security officer) comes by to check our tickets, either scanning the prepaid or charging (tapping out) the others. Our travel time is about 80 minutes this morning.
We get a staff member to help us put our bags in the free locker, even though not all guests are using them, as they don’t seem required here. Caleb ties himself to a track so that we have a photo to send to Gert. This museum is his dad’s favorite. We see the sign for Steel Monsters: no pregnant women or wheelchaired people, but the spider symbol is not crossed out. I’m still able to convince Caleb to join me on a ride that Gert said would be fine for individuals with injuries. The colossal locomotives got this nickname as they pulled wagons and carriages long distances with the help of many men and women. I can imagine the excitement and hesitancy for such new technology.
There are old signs and photos on the walls, train logs and stamps in one case, and employee hats and guest dishes in another. We stand on numbered spots and join a family when the door opens. I was going to offer for the kid to be in front of us, as is customary in the States, but they seemed satisfied, and the video started. After, they would get in the one-car ride while we waited, which seemed to take only seconds. Once we were seated, the mini-adventure began, which took way longer. We got to see the front, back, side, and bottom of a train; that was a first.
In 1920, the US had over two million workers in the railroad industry, as steam engines were labor-intensive. As of 2020, that number has dropped to 150,000 due to improvements in technology and industry consolidation. Compare this with the Netherlands, which employed 100,000 people between 1836 and 1920. Since then, they have maintained about 25,000 workers. I was going to mention how nice the sun coming through the curtains made the vanity area feel yesterday, but the circular washbasin, built for schools and factories, stands out more.
The last time I saw this multi-spigot design was in my high school showers in the locker room. This design was never officially banned, but began to be phased out in the 90s to be more ADA-compliant and shift towards hands-free plumbing. I’m glad to see one preserved, even if it means someone is rolling around with dirty hands. It also seems that floor-to-ceiling doors have an indicator by the handle if the stall is in use, vs the wide openings, enough for children to fit under, in the US, where you can look for feet or other body parts before yanking on the door. I understand why this would make people hesitant to share the room.
Another comparison comes with the Blue Angels. In the US, they are a Navy Flight Demonstration Squadron formed in 1946, the second-oldest formal aerobatic team in the world. In the Netherlands, the Blue Angels refers to the diesel-electric trains, produced in 1953 and 54, that are blue with a winged logo of their manufacturer Allan at the front. There is a sign welcoming us into the Model Train Warehouse, where we will meet the creators, designers, collectors, and beginners. The first model train was on the market in 1835; such was the enthusiasm for this revolutionary way of travel.
We’ve been to the San Diego Model Railroad Museum, covering 27,000 sq ft, since 1982, along with other train museums across the US. I’m so glad we have the exploratory nature to bypass the assumption that all museums are the same. If the Vulcan model, circa 1845, were the only model I saw here, it would make the visit worth it. The toy train is hand-painted tin with independently moving wheels. Due to its delicate nature, very few of these have been saved. There are the engine, 3rd, 2nd, and 1st class cars, with the cattle car and baggage car following.
Just like architects design models for their investors, train manufacturers did the same for their customers. Even more impressive are the models that have been made into inkstands, teapots, and clocks. In 2012, artist Hugo Kaagman had a Stencil Station exhibit at the museum after transforming several models with his Delft blue-and-white-inspired designs. Since 1875, Germany has played a role in the toy train industry, starting with some 250 factories. They started with wood, then wind-up, followed by steam power. Around 1900, electric models were introduced, first with batteries, then connected to the mains.
Miniature tracks began to be sold with semaphore signals, stations, level crossings, and landscape elements. This toy was expensive until at least 1915, when tin was cheaper to produce, and again in 1949, when the first plastic train was manufactured by Palitoy in England. Plarail in Japan would launch the first plastic train and rail set in 1959, and LEGO, founded in Denmark in 1932, would create its first toy train in 1964 after transitioning from wooden toys to plastic in 1949. There’s a wooden train set that changed its abbreviated name, ADO, from Labor of the Impaired to Unique, Practical, Indestructible due to its derogatory connotations.
After the model trains, it’s time to climb aboard some retired locomotives. “Welcome on board. We are very pleased to take you in comfort and safety to your destination… as long as you have a ticket, don’t smoke, don’t talk loudly, pay 8.50€ for your non-folding bicycle outside peak travel times, don’t put your feet on the seat, keep the train clean, and stow your luggage.” The mail car was busy from 1856 until 1979, when sorting on the train was phased out, having up to nine men moving letters from duffel bags to cabinets with the help of skylights and fluorescent tubes.
The last mail-by-rail journey took place in 1997 when trucks became cheaper and more flexible for the postal network. All this train exploring has worked up my appetite. We grab a wooden tray and load it up with a chicken sandwich each, one on white bread and one on brown bread, a cheese danish, a large chocolate-dipped stroopwafel, a bitter lemon drink, and a sparkling ginger lemongrass NODA (not a soda) to take outside. With no leftovers, we find our way upstairs to the Techlab engineering room, where students of all ages can learn about electricity, traction, wheels, and the tracks.
You can design your own train and then take a quiz to test your knowledge. Hanging from the ceiling are different model draisines, railroad vehicles named after their creator, Karl Drais. They were used for rail inspection and small repairs, and were light enough to be lifted off the rails when a train was coming. Now, special trains equipped with ultrasonic measuring devices and cameras have replaced them. The bike version seated two people, the handwheel version required two people to turn the wheel, with a seat in front for the inspectors. The motorized draisine had to be lifted and turned around to change direction.
Past that is a small exhibit exploring speed. In 1934, a train went 166 km/h in the US. In 2015, Japan had a train traveling 603 km/h, while a plane can fly at 900 km/h. In 2013, Elon Musk proposed the Hyperloop, a transit system that travels in a sealed tube to reduce resistance, which could theoretically travel at 1126 km/h (700 mph). This means that an 18-hour car ride or a 2.5-hour plane flight could be reduced to under two hours. One of the main barriers is cost, at $40 to $100 million per mile, to build tubes completely depressurized and earthquake-proof.
In the gift shop, I’m tempted to buy children’s dishes with clothed amphibians, a curious stork, and a rabbit in a rush. The way to the next museum follows the canal in Zocher Park. There is a bastion that can be visited as part of the Museum Sonnenborgh, but the 250-year-old trees come with the view. The Centraal Museum was founded in 1838 and displayed on the top floor of Utrecht Town Hall until 1891. The collection was moved to the Estate Hoogeland until 1921, when the renovation of the Agnieten Klooster was completed. This convent was founded in 1420, became an orphanage in 1674, a cavalry barracks in 1829, and possibly a factory before becoming a depository of local art.
Even their locker room has a few little cube display cases, as we look to keep our locker choice consistent. The first couple of times were either luck or Gert’s favorite number, but we have kept #33 so far. The first portrait to catch my eye is of a mid-17th-century Dutch Calvinist elite family that quietly screams wealth: black formalwear that was expensive and difficult to produce, lace collars and cuffs that were intricately handmade, and minimal jewelry (rich but respectable). The stiff bodices and doublets showed moral uprightness, and a pop of color on the children symbolized their youth. The bread on the table lets the viewer know they are blessed by God with domestic stability.
I once told my dad I was going to school so that I could understand art, and now I know why there are degrees in such a broad subject. I look at this family of nine and think about how long they each had to sit to get their message across. I notice the multiple books, an older son with an artist palette, and the chicken with its feet dangling off the plate, and don’t think about the status meaning of who is holding the reading material or where their hands are to show guardianship and authority. This is an example of where the saying, “A photo is worth a thousand words,” came from.
In another room, there is an eleven-room dollhouse that brings back memories — Mom’s Barbie house that she made with Grandma, My Little Pony house that brought Barbie and GI Joe together, and the repurposed items made for their comfort, and the joy in decorating these tiny spaces as we wished them to be, or others who represent a larger version of something that is. These miniatures led to the development of SimCity in 1989 and Minecraft in 2011, in which the builder is in charge of simulated food distribution, a land’s purpose (police, oil, education), and protecting residents so that your community continues to grow and unlock larger goals.
The museum now has over 70,000 pieces collected in under 200 years, but the permanent exhibit showcases less than 1% at any given time. The rotating exhibits double the total display, but how many of these items may never cause a traffic jam or be glanced over if not taken out of the antiquities depot. Not for this reason, but the Dutch are returning art unconditionally that was looted during the colonial period from Indonesia, Sri Lanka, and Nigeria. There is a restitution committee established in 2001 that is returning stolen art during the Nazi regime to the heirs of their Jewish owners. Art that has been smuggled at any point is being repatriated when found.
In 2005, the FBI created a Top Ten Art Crimes list in hopes of bringing the public’s attention to these stolen masterpieces. One that caught my eye was the 13 pieces stolen from the Gardner Museum in Boston in 1990, where the thieves took Degas sketches, Rembrandt works, and a Vermeer painting (just one of 36 in existence). Interpol created an app in 2021, ID-Art, to help users (curators, collectors, enthusiasts, and officers) access their database to reduce theft and safeguard heritage sites that are especially at risk when in a combat zone.
Another interesting piece, The Last Supper, 1994, by Jacoba Haas, who worked with Willem Wagenaar in the Surrealist Society, portrays the core members. The subtitle, ‘The Devoured Hour,’ refers to the clock with utensils that symbolize time consuming the hours; perhaps a reference to Wagenaar’s destroyed art by the Nazis decades ago. Luckily for the art world, he was seen to reconvene monthly meetings in an Amsterdam café in the 80s.
There is an exhibit displaying the work of Utrecht-based artist Sophie Steengracht and her French colleague, born exactly a hundred years before her, Lydia Radda (1891-1967). The older artist has a way with flowers and mushrooms that inspired the younger one to recreate the ideas in her own style. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flatterythat mediocrity can pay to greatness.“ This sentiment is attributed to Charles Caleb Colton’s 1820 work, Lacon: Or, Many Things in Few Words; Addressed to Those Who Think. Having over 350,000 flowers and 14,000 mushroom species (well, a lot less would have been researched, identified, and published back then) to choose from is an inspiration in itself.
In the attic is Studio Dick Bruna, a reconstruction with originals of his workspace, which he created in 1981. He designed thousands of book covers for his great-grandfather’s publishing company. He became acquainted with the work of Matisse, Picasso, and Chagall while in Paris in the 40s. He made children’s books for 60 years, and Miffy became his most popular character, with the simplicity and clarity that he surrounded himself with. The world-famous bunny has stories translated into 50 languages and is sold in over 85 countries. Japan has a special affinity for the white rabbit with cute and simple aesthetics similar to Hello Kitty.
Outside the museum, we wander to the end of the street and take a seat in KEEK (Kunst En Eerlijke Koffie) at their cafe location. I suggested a coffee (which in Dutch means hot drink and snack), but I am glad I chose the apple chai and large scone because Caleb compared his dark beverage to something we drank from a nearly abandoned roadside gas station. I’m not sure why we didn’t stroll along Oudegracht and the water, but we walked north on Lange Nieuwstraat instead. This path leads us to the St. Catharina Cathedral, founded in 1468 as a Carmelite monastery with a Protestant perspective. It was returned to the Roman Catholic Church in 1815.
The church is powerful in its grand simplicity, but staring in from the doors leaves much to the imagination. We find our way back to Dom Square, standing in front of University Hall, the oldest and largest in Europe, which was founded in 1636. It looks like it was built in a corner, and it didn’t cross my mind to attempt going inside, as we planned on visiting Domkerk (St. Martin’s Cathedral), formerly the church of the Diocese until 1580. We had stopped by before, but to respect services in progress, entry is denied to keep out the obnoxious tourists.
During the Protestant Reformation in 1566 and 1580, mobs attacked Catholic Churches and destroyed imagery they deemed idolatrous. Though the faces and heads of sculptures have been hacked at, to reject and humiliate them, I’m glad the church, which has been Protestant since, has left up this remembrance of history. It is striking and symbolic. We walk into a “coffee shop,” and the man disagrees with my camera and Caleb’s hat, so we leave. I wasn’t going to smoke anyway, but I might have had the atmosphere been more inviting and less anxiety-inducing (for them, not us).
We stumble upon the Vredenburg Market, open on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday (the largest and busiest day with extended hours). There are stalls with cheese samples, fresh fish, shiny jewelry, warm stroopwafels, etc. I’m impressed with the patience of one of the cheese vendors as a woman asks about each herb in the Italian herb cheese (with a pause for translation) before asking where it’s made, which animal it came from, and more. I wanted to tell her to just buy the cheese or leave, but the man wants to sell cheese, and he knows this is the price to do so in a tourist area.
Being near the Hoog Catherijne Mall, Caleb wants to have another look. There’s an event going on downstairs, and I want to see people Risk It, but they all seem to just be getting their picture taken with a tall guy in a blue shirt. It turns out, it’s not a money game or dare challenge, but a promotional event for the fast-paced card game by Big Potato Games. Back outside, we find ourselves in Vrouwe Justitiaplein (Lady Justice Square), admiring the architecture and the Between Good and Evil, the Justice Column that looks like rolled out Play-Doh, using a giant’s hands.
The column was created in 2000 by Nicolas Pope to resemble a leg and act as a pillar of the legal system. The square’s name is written in golden letters at the top, some eighty-eight feet away from where we’re standing. Nearby is the headquarters for ProRail, the largest brick building in the Netherlands, nicknamed The Inkpot. The UFO that sits atop is hard to miss at 12 meters wide, but what we didn’t know was that the flying saucer lights up and has a pop-up alien. I used to have a UFO watch that would pop open to show the time and make sounds, too. Zover was created by Marc Ruygrok for the “Panorama 2000” art exhibition.
The afternoon is coming to an end, and it’s time for us to take our rides back to the house. We sit on the upper level of the train to Amersfoort, riding through forest and field to get there, watching horses run. My phone gets an emergency alert, and I’m too startled by its loudness in a quiet environment that I silence it before reading its warning. Caleb thought it was weird, and then we heard someone else’s phone make the siren sound. We’ll find out later that it was letting us know to avoid the wildfire smoke and to close windows (as they are used for ventilation in place of a/c units in over 80% of homes).
Back at the house, we share a Gouden Carolus whisky-infused blond Belgian beer named after Holy Roman Emperor Charles V with Gert, while Anouska comes and goes. Gert picks up dinner bowls (salmon, radish, cucumber, cabbage, avocado, broccolini, and lotus root chips, etc., on rice). We will share a La Chouffe and learn another interesting thing about the Dutch. There is the Irish leprechaun and the German gnome (which is what Caleb and I see on the bottle). Here, these two tiny people with long white beards and pointy hats are culturally the same, the kabouter, which merges the traits of both. They are mischievous, love to help around the house, and live in a mushroom home.
Upstairs, I see our laundry folded on the bed. Anouska had said she would do it, but we put it off, and Gert took care of it today. It’s something I felt we should do, and perhaps that’s why some people ask for permission to use the bathroom or washing machine, while others might just ask where they are. I’m grateful to have laundry done at home, though I’m sure all laundromats come with more interesting stories. Anouska has brought in the local paper, and we read the front page with her. The children’s mayor, who serves along with the city’s mayor, acts in the interest of youth, kids aged 10 to 12. In support, she was at their soccer tournament, where a prize was given for ‘most sporting team’.
A 76-year-old man who had been missing since Wednesday was found by a police sonar boat, along with his orange tricycle, on Saturday. We saw the police helicopter in the air. Other times that choppers are deployed: mobile medical teams — the specialists are flown on site, and then the patients are transported by ambulance, and search-and-rescue — flies hundreds of missions to help people at sea. The last news on the front page is the possibility of shooting wolves sooner, as Bram was shot last autumn after several serious incidents. Provinces may use a paintball gun or rubber bullets, and citizens can scare them away with light and sound.
Chimay Pères Trappistes will be our dessert. This beer is made at an abbey, so all profits fund charitable causes and community development. Gert gave me many stickers (to add to my largest collection) and a couple of other gifts before Jessi (Caleb’s sister) video-called. She had hiked a short and very hot section of the PCT with Gert and me. She was just as excited as if she were meeting Anouska in person, and they were feeding her ice cream in an ice bath on that day back in June of 2025. It’s better to overwhelm others with loving enthusiasm than to lack the energy to learn when “less is more” applies.
I’m up early this morning, so I read a bit of Walking Home before joining everyone for a varied breakfast downstairs. I get to try semolina porridge (griesmeel pap), which is a high-protein alternative to oat yogurt, which has more fiber. It is a Russian childhood favorite with recipes dating back to 3000 BCE in Egypt. I have mine with fresh blueberries. I also have some orange yogurt with a crepe. I like feeling at home (getting my own breakfast), but still trying new foods or having familiar options prepared differently. With the internet and international shipping, this is even easier to do at home.
approaching museum
On the highway, I notice that the speed limit is faster at night (when there is less traffic) vs the States where we decrease the speed for the risk of animal encounters. The Netherlands has built over 600 green bridges and tunnels to bypass roads and railways to provide safe travel for deer, boars, badgers, foxes, and hedgehogs, etc. connecting their fragmented habitats. Meanwhile, there are approximately 1500 of these animal passes in 43 US states. The Netherlands has 390 times more wildlife-crossing habitat per acre than the US. We miss an exit that will delay us 24 minutes, but this just gives us more time amongst the fields of trees, tulips, and modern windmills.
Our destination allows us to drive through Nieuw Land National Park, established in 2018. It is the largest man-made nature reserve in the world. This was made possible by the world’s largest reclamation project. The white-tailed eagle is its icon, and the marshes are home to herds of Heck cattle and Konik horses. We won’t be detouring for the ungulates but cruising over 25km with water on both sides of the road, similar to stretches on the Overseas Highway in the Keys. We get to see our first navigable aqueduct that allows boats to travel over the traffic.
This is an incredible project, though I do applaud their animal safety bridges more; it’s so futuristic to see boats sailing by without holding up traffic via a drawbridge. This is especially true with the Veluwemeer Aqueduct, completed in 2002, which allows 28,000 cars to drive under the nine feet of water above them, unimpeded. There was a longer boat overpass built in Germany, allowing ships to cross the Elbe River and bypass the land obstacles. When compared with the SR-99 Seattle Tunnel, it cost $74 million more per km in construction to excavate rather than build.
Gert parks in the Zuiderzee Museum lot, and with tickets in hand, we walk directly to the boat that’s waiting to depart for the open-air and indoor museum. It was founded in 1948 to preserve the communities’ lifestyles between 1880 and 1930, and includes over 140 historic buildings from the villages. Making our way across the water, we notice large sailboats with a wooden wing (leeboard) on each side that are used by flat-bottomed Dutch vessels to stay stable in shallow water and beach safely on mudflats at low tide. The name comes from the fact that only the leeward (downwind) board is lowered.
As soon as we depart, I’m drawn to the lime kilns that were closed in 1976. The indoor museum opened in 1950, but the open-air museum was in development until 1983. There was flooding in the region as far back as 1250, and I’m sure before that as well. The fishermen did what they could to keep their herring trade hub thriving, but eventually, the water damage became too much, and a civil engineer drew up plans in 1892 that would take until 1918 to begin. The last gap, calming the Zuiderzee, was filled in 1932 and took the occupations of the fishing industry (sailmaking, fish-smoking, and basket weaving) with it. The fishing ports turned into recreational marinas.
Gert and Caleb
We make our way into the village, and I notice the step down to each door, leading into a community moat. The alley was raised many times to protect against high water, but this left the houses across the road outside the dike, thus unprotected. We walk into our first historic Dutch house, and the pot rattles on the stove, the blanket moves in the bed, and the food on the table looks like a sailor’s dinner, but I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be bread or meatloaf. Either way, it seems to get our appetites up, and we stop at the café for their two-coffee-and-two-apple-tarts special, along with a slice of stroopwafel cake for me.
A note for later: there’s a recipe for key lime pie with stroopwafel crust. I sip my coffee while I look around at the blue and white tiles on the walls and out the window to the water. Gert buys us a second round of coffee, and then I explore the rest of the art on display. Back outside, we are greeted by a house sparrow, the top-sighted bird in the Netherlands, but it is listed as sensitive due to population decline since the 90s. The mountain cornflower has petals that offer a clove-like taste with a smell that attracts rabbits and slugs from a distance, and a bright purple bloom that appeals to the human eye.
Having been in the country for a few days, I’ve noticed that every bathroom stall comes with a toilet brush, and this is by design. The toilet is built to reduce splash-back, allow for health inspection (a historical hygiene practice), and uses less water. Dutch culture also expects the bowl to be left clean for the next person. The kids are in the street learning hoop rolling, a game that’s been popular for thousands of years, starting in ancient Greece. There’s a table covered in shrimp, and the family could expect 7 US cents (15 Dutch cents) per kilo that they peeled.
Both the dollar and the guilder were on the gold standard then, as established by Great Britain in 1821 and then adopted by Germany and the US in 1873. WWI brought about the start of the end. The US ended domestic convertibility in 1933, and the guilder was devalued in 1936, making the Netherlands the last European country to redeem currency for gold. The US would end international convertibility in 1971, turning the dollar into a fiat currency. Today, those seven pennies are worth $2.43, and that peeled shrimp would retail for $20 per kilo.
There’s a bench that invites us to sit and listen to a story, but it’s not one we will hear today, and I forgot to tell someone about the battery’s demise, or possibly the dead weight sensor. By the fish smokehouse is a grey heron mooching for bits of smoked herring, salmon, and mackerel off the unsuspecting guests. The bird is doing us a favor by keeping the seagulls at bay. The three of us share a mackerel, and I catch a tiny bone before it can attack my soft, throaty interior. There is a western jackdaw waiting for snack opportunities by the outdoor sink, but Caleb carefully disposed of the skin and bones left on the paper.
Inside the Great Gaper Pharmacy is a room full of heads that would be put on façades so that passersby knew what awaited them, like a striped barber pole that symbolized blood and bandages as their trade sign. Abraham Best started his chemist business in 1771 and sold his concoctions to doctors. His son became a pharmacist, and in 1827, they purchased the building next door to expand. In 1877, the apothecary, J.C. Kloppenburg, took over both shops and remained in business until 1978. The museum has the gaper on a long-term loan. These gapers began to disappear from the streets in the 1930s.
A neat thing about these shops is that you can walk through history and the present at the same time, at least in the bakery and sweet shop, where we try a krakeling (a puff pastry with cinnamon sugar). This usually pretzel-shaped sweet, which is over 500 years old, is associated with weddings and funerals to symbolize the circle of life. Onto the harbor, we can go below deck and see rows of hanging herring in the smokehouse with nine chimneys. There are five cauldrons, which are built together like biscuits in a pan, that were used to tan fishing nets to prevent decay from salt water.
Harderwijk fisherman’s cottage stenciled by Hugo Kaagman
The tan was a preservative compound from the wood of the Asian acacia and required three hours of boiling, and then the nets could dry in the air. We walk to the Treasure House, the indoor component of the Zuiderzee Museum. There are pictures and paintings; the desk of Cornelis Lely, who died before the completion of the Great Barrier Dam; and a newspaper article about Grietje Bosker, the first woman to walk across the dam. There is a history of fishing and boats destroying houses in a flood. The guys get to build a sailboat model together before we walk through the IKEA portion of the exhibits.
There are elaborately designed dining chairs, wall clocks, cabinet doors, and folding tables. People slept upright in their sofa beds, believing this was better for their health. Gert will set off an alarm by pointing out a sign, one apparently behind a too-close warning barrier that we will hear again when a loud family full of kids comes through the exhibit. We continue on into town, and Gert is on the lookout for somewhere to eat. I see tables near the water, so we agree to sit at ‘t Ankertje (The Little Anchor) for our afternoon meal. I ordered a ginger lemonade and two kroketten.
Caleb and I get plastic muddlers with our drinks, so of course, I go about squashing the fresh ginger and mint in my glass. Gert has ordered a glass of milk, a lunchtime staple in the Netherlands. Milk is seen as a healthy source of height gain and maintenance, and a good way to support the dairy farms, which are a foundation of Dutch culture. The last two decades have seen a decrease in milk drinking as cheese eating takes its place. Human mothers spend 3-5 hours a day breastfeeding for 6-24 months, while dairy cows start out at 2.5 hours per day and wean from there in 8-12 months.
The dairy industry weans the calves at 6-8 weeks and then uses the mother for 2-3 years, which I don’t agree with. Anyway, this is not what I’m thinking about at lunch. I could jump the rail and be in the water. Our bread and toppings arrive, and Gert has ordered goat cheese, sundried tomato, and walnut on his, while I went with the familiar beef ragout. It’s great that each comes with two slices, and he is kind enough to trade one with me. I’m nearing fullness, but I finish my meal. We walk across the second (not officially) smallest drawbridge in the world, the first being the Somerset Bridge in Bermuda. It is only 22 inches wide and dates back to 1620.
We crossed to get a closer look at the Drommedaris (South Gate) that was built around 1540. The tower was raised in height between 1649 and 1659 and was used as a guard barracks, prison, excise office, spinning mill, weaving mill, telegraph office, and, since 1958, as a cultural center. The carillon dates from 1677 and currently consists of 44 bells. It is closed today, which is why we didn’t eat at the café with a higher view. There’s a sign about the pioneers of Enkhuizen, and it states that from 1641 through 1859, there was a Dutch trading post in Nagasaki, the only link between the Western world and Japan.
On the ride home, on the other side of the water, is Museum Batavialand, where a replica of the 17th-century vessel and the National Ship Archaeological Depot are located. Gert waited in the car while we explored from outside the gate, with no action inside, even if we wanted to go in. We pass fields of white, yellow, red, and pink tulips beneath the modern windmills we saw from afar earlier. I noticed trash bags by the highway bins, leaving the road cleaner for the next driver. I could get used to such a polite and direct culture.
the view at lunch
We stop at the drankenspeciaalzaak (specialty liquor store) on the way home, and the owner, Auke, gives us samples of his limoncello and orange-passionfruit liquers he has made. The men chose some beers to try, and I chose a sour (the wait is worth the reveal). The first beer, split three ways and intentionally uneven in my glass, is Gert’s favorite, Desperados, a tequila-flavored lager created in France in 1995 and now owned, along with 300 other regional and international brands, byHeineken. Our first dinner is beef and green bell pepper enchiladas with red sauce and cheese.
We had eaten lunch later than I realized, so I wasn’t that hungry, but I put in the effort to finish. It’s a good thing I didn’t, as the guys were ready to try a pilsener by Hertog Jan, founded in 1915 and named after a duke. The second dinner is chicken nachos with yellow bell pepper. I think the third beer, after Zulu has helped with the dishes, is going to be dessert. It is another local brew, this one from Groningen, an imperial stout from Eggens at 11% ABV. I am mistaken, as the mini ice creams are revealed from the freezer, I take a hazelnut.
Museum Batavialand
Caleb buys us train tickets and museum passes for tomorrow so that Gert and Anouska can prepare for their trip to Japan. They are so kind that they didn’t want to seem rude for making us explore on our own, but we reminded them that we are capable and that they are the best couple we have stayed with in the Netherlands and among the sequoias in California. We get to help or hinder with a crossword puzzle as Anouska reads out the clue, we guess, then they translate the answer back. It was fun, but not as exciting as going to sleep is for Anouska. I watch her unbridled joy as she’s off to bed.
TheJessicaness 