Zuiderzee Museum

Posted on April 28, 2026 by TheJessicaness

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, by Heineken. 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.

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Orange Crowns and Yellow Curves

Posted on April 27, 2026 by TheJessicaness

We’re up early this morning, and I’m treated to a krentenbollen (raisin/currant bun) that dates back to the 1600s and is commonly eaten with butter, cheese, or sugar — the Dutch staples. I have a banana as well, not knowing the importance it holds in the Netherlands. Neder Banaan is growing the yellow fruit in fungus-free substrates of mineral wool and coconut fiber rather than soil (as they are threatened by Panama disease). Wageningen University produced the first Dutch-grown bananas in 2018. Rotterdam serves as the distributor of bananas to Europe, making the fruit economically significant.

Our Dutch host gifts us some bimetallic euros since we haven’t been to the exchange yet (with tap-to-pay working everywhere), and the scan-and-pay option (for what the kids will be selling) requires a local bank account that we do not have. Anouska will catch up with us later, so the three of us will bike to Amersfoort, and Gert finds an orange hat along the way. Most of the shops are closed, but there is enough room to walk around the families selling stuffies, books, games, records, tins, cups, figurines, clothes, puzzles, ceramics, baked goods, etc.

On offer are blueberry white chocolate cupcakes, heart cookies with googly eyes, sugar donuts, chocolate and vanilla pinwheel cookies, sesame bread rolls, a wedge-shaped treat with chocolate Cheerios on top, and a boy heating up packaged stroopwafles. I support a boy playing guitar, and Caleb buys an orange top hat. We walk by De Stier, a steel sculpture, installed to highlight the tension between city life and the environment. This bull, created by Thijs Trompert, was placed in a roundabout in 2011 to replace the wooden version that burned down.

Continuing our walk through history, Gert will take us along the Muurhuizen (Wall Houses) that were built into the foundations of the first city wall around 1500, after a second, larger city wall made the inner fortifications obsolete. Hopping along in the grass is a Eurasian Blackbird (Turdus merula), the Latin meaning thrush, not poo. We see some bricked-up windows because of a reform introduced in 1812 that taxed homeowners according to the number of windows in their house. Similarly, in the 17th century, taxes were assessed based on the width of the house facade.

This explains the narrow and deep houses with false windows, as income taxes weren’t established until 1904. The United States would pass the 16th Amendment in 1913, which gave Congress the authority to tax income without apportionment (sharing proportionally rather than equally). The first tax was 1% on incomes over $3,000, with higher rates for the wealthy. There is a man brewing coffee and lowering cups in a basket out of his window to be sold below. With the temperature still in the high 50s, we will find a shop inside to enjoy our hot caffeinated drinks.

Caleb and I get stroopwafel and tiramisu coffees. The whipped cream, with waffle or sprinkles, comes in a small bowl so that it doesn’t melt, unless you want it to. I like that it allows each drinker to choose how much they want. Gert gets a regular coffee, and we sip, chat, and watch the young and old around us take a break on their holiday. The culture here is laidback, though efficient and innovative, unlike the hurried lifestyles of South Korea, Japan, and the United States. I appreciate not feeling rushed in line, at a restaurant, or even with public transportation.

Gert points out an antique wooden wagon wheel hub that can be repurposed into a candle holder. On another tarp is the largest collection of Donald Duck books and magazines that I’ve ever seen. His weekly publication has had a massive following since 1952. A majority of Dutch children and some foreigners use it for language learning, and the Dutch culture references make it a household staple for all ages. We are in search of stumbling stones, brass-plated concrete cubes embedded in the sidewalk that have been placed in front of the last known voluntary residences of Holocaust victims.

In America, we want to throw away our history, while parts of Europe ensure that the ways of our ancestors are frequently remembered and learned from constantly. The neighborhood also seems concerned with keeping the windows and doorways interesting for passersby. There are doormat designs built from the sidewalk bricks that add a touch of personality. There are paintings, flowers (candy stripe azaleas, possibly Champagne Bubbles orange poppies, and yellow tulips), and handicrafts displayed in the windows. We will ride our bikes to Leusden to meet up with Anouska and let someone else have prime bicycle parking.

There are fort-building Legos, cotton candy stalls, Takkie (a little Dutch dog) on sweaters and dresses, boys and men wearing capes, a few people in wooden shoes, and neighbors drinking orange tea or beer from orange cans, and eating orange marble cake and orange cream puffs. Gert gives us the house key so that we can get in before they get home. He tried to pick up a King’s Day treat, but the shop was closed. I have a six-herb (hibiscus, lemongrass, blackberry leaves, rosehips, peppermint, and lemon verbena leaves) tea while we watch the Royal Family in Dokkum.

tompouce

We get to snack on brown bread with aged Gouda or with butter and mix hagelslag (meaning a hailstorm of sprinkles). Of course, we have both. Gert explains that if you can see the butter, you don’t have enough chocolate sprinkles. A bit later, it is time for our official tasting of the oranje tompouce (puff pastry with custard), and just like their sandwiches, which can be eaten top and bottom separately, that is how Gert suggests we eat these. I will take back-and-forth bites accordingly to keep one hand clean. It is fun to be a part of this tradition.

Gert will nap while Anouska cooks, so we busy ourselves with a walk through clouds of mating non-biting midges that thrive near wet areas. I’m grateful for not being stung, but also scared of swallowing a few pairs as we return the kind hellos from children and adults enjoying the outdoors, too. Apparently, my cough is getting ridiculous, and with their trip to Japan upcoming, I understand the concern to make sure I’m ok and that my cough doesn’t become more than a pest to me. I would feel terrible, which is why I eagerly went with Anouska via bicycle to one of the closest markets for a bottle of anise syrup (yuck) and some strawberry cough drops (yum).

She was riding ahead of me, as I’m used to riding behind Caleb, but here they ride next to each other, which I gladly did. It does make talking easier, and they are quick to move if oncoming cyclists need the space. I saw a couple where the man rode with his hand on the woman’s back, just as if they were walking through a park. Even the very young are taught to be aware of those around them, which is a great quality to have. Tonight’s dinner is a traditional Dutch comfort food that originated as a winter staple for farmers in the 1600s and continues to bring warmth and nutrition today.

Anouska’s stamppot consists of sausage, mashed potatoes, onions, and carrots. I’m used to mixing my taters (term can also mean homerun or a rare whiskey hoarder) with corn, but I will take seconds of this simple and hearty dish. Dessert will be a classic butter cookie with orange icing and sprinkles. I will have two of these also. I don’t remember the context, just the reaction of Gert and Anouska to the word ‘spouse’ and the fun they had calling each other this amusing word. I should strive to have each day be so celebratory and uncomplicated.

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Zondag in Utrecht

Posted on April 26, 2026 by TheJessicaness

I woke in the middle of the night with a cough that Gert commented on, “Don’t smoke,” while we were downstairs, so I know I’m doing it more frequently. I’m still up over an hour later, so I take some of the meds I brought with me in case, and am able to go back to sleep. Caleb comes up to get me, and I’ll have a coffee and a banana before Anouska drives us to Utrecht. We passed through a brick house built in 1300, when the ground floor was cleared in 1975 to show off the pine beam ceiling above.

morning vs afternoon

The country is already in preparation for the big day tomorrow, so we are not seeing the city in its usual condition. There are music stages, food trucks, and certain areas cordoned off for crowd control. There is a sign encouraging the reuse of cups by charging an extra euro per cup that isn’t refilled. Tours of the Dom Tower used to start from the little box office by the door, but increased tourism (and their baggage) has moved the ticket counter to a space around the corner that can accommodate a gift shop, some informational displays, and the wall of complimentary lockers.

There is a fire alarm panel with lights for each level to alert whether manual or automatic notification is used, and if the sprinkler system has been activated. It also tells us the temperature is 10°C and the wind is 1m/s from the NW. Circa year 45, the Romans built a fortress. In 695, atop their ruins, Willibrord (first bishop of Utrecht) spread the word of Christianity. The city prospers, and in 1020, the Holy Roman Empire builds a cathedral. In 1254, stone from the cathedral was used to build the Gothic Dom Church. Then, in 1321, the highest church tower in the Netherlands was built as a testament to their power.

The Protestant Reformation began in 1580, and sculptures in the church were destroyed. The storm of 1674 took out the nave of the church, which permanently separated the cathedral from the tower. Dom Square was created in 1826 after the ruins of the nave were cleared. In 2021, the underground ruins, part of the Lower Germanic Limes, became a UNESCO site; a year before the 900th anniversary of Utrecht acquiring city rights. It’s difficult for me to grasp just how ancient this history is and how remarkable it is that I get to be a part of it (considering we will learn how quick the Dutch are to destroy things they no longer need).

It’s not malicious, but out of a sense of preserving historical structures while preventing suburban sprawl with the addition of bike and bus lanes. Over half of their 13,000 sq km (5,000 sq mi) is used for agriculture (the country being half the size of South Carolina), which needs water, while keeping the rest of their land above it. Our tour guide, who is necessary to climb most of the 465 steps to the viewing platform at 312 ft, does this three times a day. One person didn’t join because she’s claustrophobic, and another woman is really feeling the ascent in her legs.

Luckily, we don’t have to take all the stairs at once, as there are rooms (chapel, belfry, carillon) to stop in along the way. Some guests are given a hammer for the chance to ring one of the heaviest bells in Europe. It takes 26 people to ring all 14 bells that weigh over a combined 32,000 kg. The original set was cast in 1505, but the Agnes Minor was made in 1982. These bells are separate from the set of 50 for the carillon that is played every Saturday and on special occasions. We are given at least 20 minutes at the top before it’s time for us to return. Going downstairs is always easier, but going too fast, you’ll hit a brick wall, a wooden door, or the kind person in front of you.

I suppose if you timed it right, you could hit all three. Our group makes it safely down and takes advantage of the coin-free toilets. I thought I might try one of the urinals set up outside for tomorrow, but as I’m not as tall as the Dutch, I might make a bit of a mess. We wander into Winkel van Sinkel, an iconic building, which was the first department store in the Netherlands in the 1830s. Once this era faded, the building was used as a bank office for decades, with other companies using the office space and hosting temporary art exhibits.

In the 80s, the building changed its function, turning into a Grand Café with a club and event venue. I ordered a cucumber lemonade and what appears to be fried chicken tenders with red cabbage and spicy aioli on a ciabatta roll. After lunch, Anouska will depart to tend to work while we walk towards the nearest dark alley, past all the people watching diners with benches and chairs facing the canal. Where the railing is not covered in bikes, it has become lined with tourists and locals alike, sightseeing and shopping on another beautiful day.

the mall

We walk further along the canal and notice an increase in orange: signs, bunting, and balloons. By happy accident, we notice the Miffy pedestrian traffic light that honors Dick Bruna, born in Utrecht and creator of the iconic rabbit in 1955. Gert leads us to the Hoog Catharijne, not for the fashion chains, but to see the world’s first shopping center, where visitors can watch boats pass underneath on the canal. I got to see one, while the guys were distracted, which was exciting, but the kid who got his hand wet because the viewing platform is also a shallow fountain was throwing a fit to his mom about his predicament, which she wasn’t concerned about.

It’s funny that my dad gives me a hard time for loving peanut butter, but I’m not the only one, which is why so many companies now make variations on this healthy treat. I might not have looked twice at the Pindakaaswinkel (peanut butter shop) if it wasn’t for recognizing the word cheese (kaas) in the middle of the word and then seeing the translation. Of course, we went in. They have tastings, workshops, and little glass jars. The company was founded in 2016 and takes pride in the environmentally friendly plant that is one of the most sustainable crops in the world.

Next up, a drink at Belgisch Biercafé Olivier, where every beer comes with its own glass, inside a former hidden Catholic church. The Maria Minor dates back to 1860, and the organ is still prominently displayed, as the top half of the interior went unchanged. We try an Oedipus Mannenliefde, not because it’s the flagship Saison of a local brewery, but because it’s brewed with lemongrass, Szechuan pepper, and Sorachi Ace hops. It didn’t make my tongue feel funny, and I was more excited about the glass it came in with little confetti surrounding the company’s logo that looks like little hands.

The nice thing about walking so much is that you can constantly eat little treats. I do appreciate the serving sizes here, time to enjoy without leftovers or waste (which seems to be a community concern). I don’t know if Caleb saw the ice cream or the chocolate first, but we left with a bar for later and a scoop each. I get the mango-passion fruit (a popular tropical treat with a few varieties). We return to Dom Square and find our way into the Pandhof monastery garden, built between 1390 and 1440. Here, we are told one story of the carved rope hidden in the intricate tracery of one of the cloister windows.

One of the apprentices broke part of the window structure and “tied” it back together. When the manager found out, the worker was quickly made permanently unemployable, and only then did the man in charge notice the delicate handiwork that was supposed to impress him. Perhaps it had, and that’s also why the man would never work again. I get a thumbs-up from a guy in orange sunglasses and an orange transparent visor, perhaps because my shades are the same color. We explore Flora’s Walled Garden, which has been the palace of the bishops, residence of the governor, French barracks, and a municipality storage area dating back to the 12th century.

In 1803, Hendrik van Lunteren established the plant nursery. In 1880, his grandson built greenhouses. The current garden was created in 2009 and is maintained by volunteers. In the cloister garden of Saint Marie, redesigned in 1973, are wild plants named in association: Maria Rose, Lady’s Mantle, and Milk Thistle. At Zocherpark, we learn that the 600-year-old fortifications were being demolished, and there were plans after WWII to fill in the canals. Only parts were filled up in 1970, but since 2020, the canal runs all around the city center again.

As we continue along the canal, we notice more orange shirts and cheeks streaked with the colors of the national flag (vermilion, white, and cobalt blue). The horizontal tricolor, the oldest in continual use, was officially adopted in 1937 and influenced Russia, via Peter the Great (late 1600s), and Dutch shipbuilding to adopt the same colors. France was led to adopt its vertical tricolor in 1794 as a symbol of a republic rather than a monarchy to represent their nation. Back to the car, Gert will drive us through a neighborhood to see where families are marking spots for selling their wares tomorrow.

Some squares have names in chalk, tarps with bricks, or caution tape over their claim. Caleb notices one family has a lot of spaces, until Gert lets him know that bezet means occupied. We had a good laugh. At the house, we are presented with snacks while we watch some of the women’s bike race happening in Liège-Bastogne-Liège, Belgium. This is the oldest (first run in 1892) of the five Monuments of cycling, the other four being the Milan-San Remo, Tour of Flanders, Paris-Roubaix, and Il Lombardia. The women’s race was established in 2017 and covers over 250 km in a day.

Tonight’s dinner starts with a carrot and sweet potato soup (which I thought was the main course). The fresh vegetables and broth cubes come packaged together. The leek, mushroom, and ham quiche had a delicious filling and a perfect crust, but what I couldn’t finish, I slid onto Caleb’s plate. Zulu, seeing that we are done eating, is ready to do so himself, but goes about asking for it too early and in the wrong way. It is entertaining how cute he is. (No cat was starved while we were there.) Anouska teaches us how to play Beverbende — a game where you want the lowest score but you can’t see all your cards.

The final scores were close. On the news, guys with guns near Trump, Lebanon is on fire, and a recap of King’s Day in Dokkum*. The royal family participated in ice skating (on a special rink), Frisian handball, canal pole vaulting, and going on stage with Nynke Laverman and Sytze Pruiksma, alongside Broken Brass and the Ragazze Quartet performing at the Sense Theater. We finish the evening with a cup of lemon ginger tea on the couch, and then Gert will show us a bit about the online game he plays to stay in touch with family (a more popular way of doing so than I realized).

*This will actually happen tomorrow.

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De Pyramide van Childhood

Posted on April 25, 2026 by TheJessicaness
De Haar

The shower was steaming hot and has an automatic dehumidifier, with the tilt-and-turn window in the partially open position to allow airflow while maintaining privacy. The house comes with motorized metal outdoor roller shades on every window, since the ones built into the glass still let heat into the home, whereas these block light and seem to block sound as well. I’m up every two hours to accommodate my excitement and jet lag and listen to Caleb sleep. I was going to watch the sunrise, but the cloudy sky took care of that decision for me.

I start my morning downstairs with an amaretto coffee, some yogurt with fresh blueberries, and two pankakken (crepes) warmed with cinnamon sugar. On the road, Caleb notices that many cars have tow hitches (so they can use a trailer when necessary and still fit into parking spaces when not at IKEA). I see all the little houses with big windows and think about how happy people are, regardless of the size of their space, to be surrounded by views of the outside and see sunlight, even if it’s only 7°C (44.6°F). We start the day with a drive to De Haar, the largest castle in the Netherlands.

The sign in the parking lot warns: By using scanners, even ‘hidden’ devices are revealed from outside your car. Free lockers are available in the castle. The path from the lot to the entrance arch is lined with bicycle parking that will fill up later with personal and rental bikes. We are here to walk the gardens before the castle opens, and those who booked their tickets online have left us with an 11:30 entry time slot, which is better than sold out. Part of the castle has scaffolding, and the rose garden is a field of dirt while maintenance is being done.

Rhododendron augustinii

The castle is just as impressive as it is inviting. This was done by design when it was rebuilt between 1892 and 1912, commissioned by Baron Etienne van Zuylen van Nijevelt and his wife Hélène de Rothschild to show their wealth and provide a lavish setting for their elite society gatherings. The first stone tower was erected in 1250 and came into the Zuylen family in 1446. The castle fell into ruin in the Middle Ages. Pierre Cuypers, who also designed the Rijksmuseum and Central Station in Amsterdam, was hired as the architect.

We walk over the bridge and towards the deer park. There are at least twenty-five fallow deer. The males are known for their palmate antlers, which are broad and shovel-shaped, like a moose’s. These impressive antlers are the fastest-growing animal bone or soft tissue, regrown every year, with the lowest cancer rates, extending by 2 cm a day, adding half a kilogram of bone. The deer’s light and spotted coats make it seem like a field of fawns are enjoying their time in the sun by the water. I’m excited to see another deer species.

Continuing on, past the Cunningham’s white rhododendron showy evergreen to the lake inhabited by Eurasian coots, Egyptian geese, and mallards. We walk to the covered bridge, built as a romantic destination, and a good place to sit and watch the calmness of nature from the furthest point on the grounds. We see a mute swan (less vocal than other species) and a white stork (from its high nest) that was near extinction in the 60s and 70s due to pesticides, but brought back through conservation efforts. It is the official symbol of The Hague.

I’m admiring the color of a Rhododendron augustinii and appreciate the name of the bloomerang lilac, and I am surprised to learn that there is more than one species of willow (as there are 20 species of stork) that grows in the Netherlands. These trees are called Dutch Bamboo for their rapid growth and ability to stabilize dykes and provide wood for walls and baskets. The pollard (knotwilg) and the Holland willow are the most common. We see a cluster of polypore bracket fungi at work on a stump of birch near the church.

With some time before our self-guided tour, we are introduced to koffie en gebak, which means hot drink and pastry for your first or second breakfast, a post-lunch dessert, an afternoon snack, or an evening treat. I have a latte and share a slice of the beloved appeltaart with Caleb. The first Dutch apple pie recipe dates back to 1514. Pieter de Hooch depicted the fruit in A Woman Peeling Apples (1663), and the appeltaart is part of the Dutch cozy culture (gezelligheid). Having gone outside the ticket gate, we asked the staff to let us back in.

Sometimes it helps to be memorable. We will need to scan the tickets again in the castle. From 1900 to 2006, the baron and baroness and their great-great-grandchildren spent every September at the castle with family and famous guests from around the world: Brigitte Bardot (cinema sex symbol and animal activist), Coco Chanel (revolutionizing women’s fashion), Gregory Peck (iconic film roles of moral strength), Roger Moore (James Bond in seven films and UNICEF ambassador), and Yves Saint Laurent (first living designer with solo art exhibit at the Met).

There is a treasure hunt booklet for ages 6+ and Noet Noet, the talking cat, that provides children with a specialized audio tour. The neo-Gothic interior is nearly unchanged since 1900, and in 2000, Baron Thierry gifted the castle and the surrounding park (56 hectares) to Stichting Kasteel de Haar to restore it, and sold the Haarzuilens estate (400 hectares) to Vereniging Natuurmonumenten to protect it. In 2012, his five daughters transferred ownership of the collections of China, silver, tapestries, antique furniture, and international works of art to Stichting Kasteel de Haar to preserve them for future generations.

Though the Zuylen family gave up ownership of De Haar, they have the right in perpetuity to reside in the castle in September. The Châtelet was originally built to house boilers, pumps, ice cellars, and staff. It was modernized in 2014 and now houses the family’s luxurious private apartments. Back to the building I am in: enter the door, go down the stairs, scan ticket, pass by the gift shop, put bag in locker, and stand in the corner to watch the introduction video. Go up a set of stairs and be flabbergasted by the amount of details and designs in the main hall.

There is simply so much, which is probably why the family could only live here for one month a year. When they had it rebuilt, electric lighting was installed, along with hot and cold running water, a bathing facility in each bedroom, and a low-pressure heating system (even to the servants’ quarters). The elevator and Turkish bath have come and gone. Every arch, corner, and pillar has been exquisitely made to overwhelm the eyes with awe and wealth. The wood and stone carvings, the wall-sized paintings, tall stained glass, and the Japanese palanquin in the middle of the room add to this impression.

The dinner guests were summoned by the butler ringing the Tibetan bell. The silverware was manufactured by a French silversmith using gilding, mother-of-pearl, engraving, and the family crest. The set consisted of 700 items, fish and dessert cutlery being the most common. There were also asparagus ladles, fruit forks, mustard spoons, and grape scissors (so that guests could cut their own clusters from the main bunch presented on the table). I wish all cutting tools could be so ornate.

The library has two Chinese ceramic warriors, each riding a mythical dragon horse. These intricate sculptures were used on temple or palace roofs to protect the building. The knights’ hall has chandeliers with men on horses holding up the candelabras, swords on the wall, a simply carved chess set, a huge tapestry with soldiers, gin and newspapers, and what appears to be embroidered wall coverings, amongst the many other items of intricacy in this living room. The main hall was created by roofing over the central courtyard, creating a ceiling of nearly 60 feet.

The ballroom leaves no surface untouched with art and fanfare as a projector plays out a scene in the corner. The tables, walls, ceilings, and windows are carved along with the paneling between them. The floor is the simplest here, since it would be covered in dresses and shoes, though it still appears to be geometric shapes placed in an elegant design by hand. One bathroom was large enough to become an area of rest for the baron’s chauffeur, even if he did take Roger Moore to the P&C instead of the P.C. to buy socks. He had a bed, bath, desk, and an armoire.

Upstairs, we are led into the bedrooms with plenty of sitting options: the bed, a small table, a bench by the window, and a desk. The beds and larger armoires look like they would’ve been built in their respective rooms or put in there via crane before the roof was put on. Weeks before guests arrived, all textiles were beaten and vacuumed, all cupboards dusted and waxed, and all copper, silver, armor, door fittings, and parquet floors were polished. This process is easier now that the beds and baths aren’t used.

The kitchen looks like a shop for copper pots and pans. The middle of the room is the island of the stove and ovens. We exit out a covered walkway, the enclosed passage above being the one that connects the castle to the châtelet. We drive to lunch at Kenny’s Broodjes for variations of chicken: pulled, piri piri, and spicy-sweet soy sauce (teriyaki), and old canal cheese on brown bread. There was enough filling for two open-faced sandwiches, but I just ate the chicken and green onion off the top until I could close the long bun. The others are done with their sandwiches before I take my first bite of bread and meat.

I wouldn’t know the place had a menu, as it looks more like a charcuterie shop. The man behind the counter asks if I would like to take Caleb’s picture with a wheel of cheese, of course! Then he weighs a half-wheel, roughly 14 pounds, and shows us the price: 168€ (almost $200). Across the pedestrian path is an Albert Heijn supermarket (the largest store chain in the Netherlands). Here, the customer takes a portable barcode scanner to scan items as they add them to their cart. The others look for oranje tompouce, a Dutch treat made of puff pastry, custard cream, and icing (orange for Koningsdag).

I notice the pandan pastry, and the small can of lemon Pepsi for 4€, but can’t find the cheese stroopwaffle that was advertised. We return the scanner, which uploads our cart to the register screen, then tap to pay, retrieve our receipt, and scan it to exit the store. There is a protest for climate change, part of the Extinction Rebellion (XR) group, with 200 people that closes down the A12 motorway, causing massive detours for some. It will double the time it takes us to return home, but I appreciate the chance to see more of this country.

On the A2 freeway is a noise barrier that extends over two of the three lanes, so it’s no wonder that planes could’ve been hidden here during the Cold War. The A4 freeway has an aircraft bridge that allows planes to taxi over traffic, connecting a runway to the terminal, showing how Dutch engineering is making the most of their heavy traffic and limited space. I know we are back in Leusden when I see another sculpture by Lorenzo Quinn. I have a hazelnut coffee while Gert arranges bikes for us. I will need the energy and the patience.

I’m excited to be riding a bike in the Netherlands, which is why I’m ok struggling to hop on and off, and use my toes on the pedals while my left foot hits the rear pannier. I will get the hang of it, even if I slow the guys down. Gert is taking us to see the Pyramid of Austerlitz, and even the dirt bike paths are better here than many of the specified bike lanes that I’ve had the experience of riding in the States, over uneven sidewalks, bumpy roads with trash, and other obstacles — trees, trash cans, and traffic cones. We approach a hill, and Gert lets us know we can walk once we tire.

Caleb takes the single-speed bike he is on and gains speed before beginning to climb. The hill looked more like a bump in the road until I realized I couldn’t see over it, unlike all the other flat paths with a mile-long view. Gert starts to push me up the hill, so I pedal harder to keep up, but the hill keeps coming. He says we need to catch up to Caleb so we can park the bikes and finish on foot. The bikes come with frame locks that allow you to lock the back wheel when not around a bike rack or when the rack is full, so we set ours off to the side and then locked them together.

Anouska and Gert

I know some people would worry about theft, but the Japanese don’t usually lock their bikes. The Dutch aren’t concerned with a van coming by and loading up on locked bikes, unless they are e-bikes, cargo bikes, or fat bikes. Amsterdam averages 30 stolen bikes a day that are headed for the border, where batteries can sell for a few hundred euros. The pyramid was inspired by the ones in Egypt that General Marmont had seen on a military campaign with Napoleon. While in command of 18,000 men from the French and Batavian armies in 1804, the general found a large area for training.

Caleb with cheese!

With that goal accomplished and nice weather, the general wanted to stay longer without leaving his men idle, so he had them build a large earthen pyramid with stepped terraces and a wooden obelisk in a month. He called it Marmont Mountain, but the name was changed in 1806 to honor a battle of a location now in the Czech Republic. The Henschoten estate was established in 1807, containing forests, heathlands, and shifting sands, and eventually granted public access for hiking, biking, and horse riding between sunrise and sunset. In 1808, the deteriorated obelisk was demolished.

Your World by Lorenzo Quinn

A stone replacement was commissioned in 1894 by the estate owner and mayor of Woudenberg. In 2008, the Pyramid was officially reopened to visitors after major restoration between 2001 and 2004, when a metal staircase was installed to prevent damage to the slopes and provide access to the top. We walk the loop around it, but the gate is closed for the day, so we continue on towards the restaurant and amusement rides nearby just to have a look. Back to the bikes, we double our average speed, coasting downhill to the first street light, where the traffic signals are in charge.

bike path (fietspad)

At other zebras (roundabouts and smaller intersections), bikes and pedestrians have the right-of-way, even causing buses to yield. Anouska has dinner ready for our return. The savory pastry is full of corn, onion, mushroom, chicken, and a modern touch – black cherry, and topped with cheese in this traditional European comfort food dish. Caleb and I had a hard time figuring out the fruit at first, as it looked like an olive. I wish I had room in my stomach for another serving. Tonight’s news is about reducing malaria in Africa, the local protest where officers use special trolleys to remove those who refuse, and how the large, smelly trash pile in Gaza is affecting those nearby.

Pyramide van Austerlitz

Dessert tonight comes from Bishop’s Stortford, UK, where 20 tons of ingredients are churned to create cheesecake, mousses, and tortes that are put in 54% recycled glass ramekins and then shipped across Europe, to Australia, and select stores in the US. We eat these while watching an episode of Wie is de Mol?, the Dutch version on its 26th season, inspired by the Belgian show De Mol that aired in 1998. It features ten contestants trying to win money while one person attempts to sabotage their efforts. Anouska is the first to go to bed tonight, and Gert is the last, as they stick to their routines.

Gert and Caleb
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A Stroll Along the Grebbe Line

Posted on April 24, 2026 by TheJessicaness

key developer in Dutch aviation, founder of Martinair, founder of KLM, president of Transavia ’79-’02
sculptures by Kees Verkade and bust by Servaas Maas in Schiphol Airport

I want to sleep on the flight into the Netherlands, but we’re too close to the toilets, so the lights keep strobing my eyes. It doesn’t help that the door isn’t easier to understand, either, as people push, pull, and pry at knobs and corners. I whisper to get their attention and then show a pushing motion with my hand for the middle of the door where the hinge runs down. Perhaps they were in a state of sleep that escaped me for hours while I tossed about. I’m woken to the sound of egg pockets and yogurt being distributed after three hours of taking advantage of the empty seat next to me.

My neighbor doesn’t want his yogurt, so I have that with coffee and connect with flight attendant Deborah over languages and travel. She’s looking forward to her day off in Amsterdam. While waiting in line for passport control, we talked with a kid from Ohio who made some international friends at track meet competitions and is coming to visit them for a month before his new job starts. It’s his first time out of the US, so he’s a bit nervous, but more excited to be old enough in Europe to drink in a bar. The agent scans our passports and sends us on our way without a stamp.

Gert was waiting in another area of the airport, where our first flight was supposed to arrive, so I suggested a toilet break before the excitement of a new country hit upon the exit doors. Caleb sees the questioning look on my face and replies, “I found a Dutchman!” to which there are a few happy responses from the other men within earshot who similarly identify as a Hollander. Gert was standing by our bags with a familiar smile and a hug. I thought we would be taking public transportation, but we got introduced to the highway instead.

Gert points out the NAP (Normaal Amsterdams Peil) at -3.8 meters below sea level. After a flood in 1675, measurements were taken daily during high tide for a year to calculate the minimum height of the sea dykes, set at 2.67 m above the AP. This system was carried over to other areas in the Netherlands, Belgium, and Germany. An error was introduced in the 1880s, and once corrected gained its new name. This fact is interesting on its own, but it will mean more as we learn how this country continually keeps itself from literally going underwater while maintaining cities and farms with flowing canals.

Your World by Lorenzo Quinn at AFAS Software

Caleb and I both weren’t expecting so much countryside (even after our experience in other European lands with sprawling pastures). We passed fields of cows, sheep, horses (koeien, schapen, paarden), two IKEAs, a 1934 Packard 1108 Derham Sport Sedan (roughly $200,000), and a building covered in ivy with the windows trimmed. Anouska brings us coffee and stroopwafels while we make ourselves comfortable in the garden and meet Zulu, the tuxedo cat that likes to lounge in flowers, on the back of the couch, on the stairs, and on the bricks out front (so he can be let in instead of using his own door).

We move to the shade for some Rivella (bubbly apple cola) that was created in 1952 and is made with 25% milk whey. Anouska is unsure if I’m messing with her when I say I’ve never had it. I thought it might be similar to Vimto, a British mixed fruit drink created in 1908, which I was introduced to in Bahrain over ten years ago. With a drink comes snacks, and we have the choice of three dips — cheese pesto, garlic aioli, and sundried tomato. We are brought up to our room, where we will sleep under a wall-sized hand rendering of Mount Everest by Anouska (inspired by their trip to base camp).

Other wall decor consists of her painting the world map, so that they can see where they’ve been and where they want to go, every night at the dinner table. The printed PCT map is close by. They have concrete walls, so some paintings are hung museum style, and other walls are covered in square photos of their sons (now grown) traveling with them to beaches and mountain tops, the large animals seen in jungles and on savannahs, and of them smiling in the snow or anywhere they are together. We put our shoes back on and put our borrowed slides in their place on the shelf for an afternoon walk.

I found out where we were staying in December, but instead of researching anything about the area, I looked all over the country, and even into Belgium, for things to see and do. I’m grateful for the surprise of how close they live to history, shops, restaurants, and the bus stop, but I was unaware of how far that meant everything else was. We pass by some green alkanet (with bright blue flowers), a soccer field, and a playground on our way to the Aschatterkeerkade, constructed in the late 17th century. When I read that the Dutch flooded them for defence, I thought of moats, but this system was used to flood the landscape for protection.

We see a Speckled Wood butterfly on a piece of rotting wood amongst the fallen brown leaves next to an old German bunker used during WWII. There will be a few along the dyke that is now used as a scenic walking path. We get to walk in the trenches lined with wood and fortified with sandbags made of concrete. We cross a road, and there is a toad tunnel to ensure the migrating amphibians safely find a partner in another ditch or pond in the spring. We pass by some female mallards, greater stitchwort (named as a remedy for a pain in the side), and Creeping Charlie (a purple perennial ivy).

I’m dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and capri tights when I see a cow’s breath and wonder if I’m underdressed. Caleb reminds me that the temperature is in the 60s °F on this beautiful day, and though windy (which is always the case in this flat country), the 1500-pound Holstein Friesian is full of more hot air due to her four stomachs than I am. It makes sense that tall people would have tall cows; this breed originates from a Dutch province and a German state. The Grebbe Line had ten basins that could be flooded individually, but froze during the French invasion of 1795, failing its defensive purposes.

Passing a neighborhood park is an information board that lets us know that the chiffchaff (lol) and the song thrush are the only birds (vogels) that can be seen and heard here, only in the summer. The other twenty-plus species are found all year round. There are some Clematis montana (pink flowers and buds) and Spanish bluebells to finish off our return to the house. Anouska has gone ahead of the three of us to prepare dinner: beef with prunes and apricots (a Moroccan dish), a salad with chicken and quinoa (Mediterranean-style), and sesame bread with garlic aioli (Chinese-American fusion).

We are plied with seconds, and though the taste pairings are unique and delicious, I took what I thought was the last of the bread… from that pan. Dessert is honey walnut yogurt with muesli (Greek and Swiss staples). Having been taken around the world physically and gastronomically, it was time to take turns choosing songs by artists from the Netherlands, Switzerland, South Africa, Germany, Scotland, and the US, to name a few. Then we got to watch the local news about people being nominated for the King’s Medal (aka Royal Honours), which go to some 4500 volunteers annually for their exceptional service to society via arts, science, and community service.

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