Never On A Sunday

Last weekend we set out to explore Zeeland – the Dutch province south of Rotterdam.  For those interested in geography nearly half of Zeeland is water. The fact that anyone would choose to live there at all is a tribute to Dutch resilience and their engineering ingenuity. The fact that the province’s coat of arms features a lion half submerged in water gives you a good picture of what these people have been up against over the centuries. Their motto ‘luctor et emergo’ translates as ‘I struggle and I emerge ’.

Nowadays, the low-lying islands of Zeeland are protected and connected by a series of dykes and very long bridges. The province has emerged from the threat of flooding to face a barrage German tourists. They come for the beaches – miles and miles of soft pale sand, and they come to windsurf on the breezy lagoons created by the modern day sea defences.

Having found ourselves in the land of the Deutsche camper-van we stopped for a toilet break at a windsurfing gala.  Where else but the Netherlands would you have a water-slide into a freezing cold lake and think it fun??

We gave the Delta Expo a miss – I’m sure for anyone interested in the history of pumps, drainage systems and hydro-engineering it’s a fascinating place to visit, but we decided we didn’t have time.  My Rough Guide to The Netherlands recommended starting a tour of the expo with the 30 minute information film – Mr T and I are speed visitors when it comes to museums – half an hour is often our max (in fact we have been known to give entire exhibitions a miss and just pop in for a snack and the loo). It sounded rather like the Delta Expo was a day-out in itself. Something to go back for, if we drive that way again. Which is highly unlikely to be honest.

Instead, we travelled on to Middleburg, the capital of Zeeland, a compact, pretty town but a town that is closed on Sundays.  Middleburg sits in the middle of the Dutch Bible belt and it was deserted. The inhabitants of Middleburg weren’t even out walking their dogs – the belt is that tight.   In the main square a few cafes were open, but not many. Elsewhere shops and bars were firmly shut, giving the town a somewhat eerie atmosphere.  We joined the few other bewildered looking tourists ambling around the quite cobbled streets and admiring the historic architecture and wishing we’d come on any other day of the week.

We selected a different route for the journey home just so that Mr T could enjoy the drive over even more dykes and very long bridges. Personally, I’m of the opinion that if you’ve seen one dyke and a very long bridge, you’ve seen them all. But at least we’ve ticked Zeeland off the list.

A Walk in the Park

I may on occasions complain about the blandness of the Dutch countryside so it's always a treat to uncover a hidden gem. We have continued our exploration of Den Haag, making the most of the unseasonal good weather – I can’t actually remember the last time it rained (it’s a sign of how much I’ve acclimatized that drizzle no longer counts).

Last Sunday we set off for the Japenese Garden at Clingendael. This garden is only open to the public for three weeks in the spring and three weeks in  October.  If you have a beautiful garden, in a public space, which it is, it seems a bit of a shame to limit the access, but I suppose the park-keepers only want the public to see looking its best.

But it was good to discover the entire Clingendael park which is open all year round and a good place to stroll around on a sunny Sunday morning. Mr T was highly delighted when we stumbled upon these ladies also out for a stroll. It could have been some sort of photo shoot but you can never tell with the Dutch. It doesn’t take an awful lot of persuasion to have them stripping off!

And talking of stripping off, my hunt for a regular swimming slot has ceased. Mr T has splashed out and treated us to a years’ membership of the health spa just a five minute walk from our apartment. No need to get lost around the streets of Den Haag seeking out those elusive municipal pools. We can now relax in our luxurious surroundings, swim in a 20 metre pool and have full use of hot whirlpool, sauna and steam room, aerobic exercise and ‘mind and body' classes as well as a very large gym.  I did hesitate, not just at the expense or because I am a bit of gym-phobic, but because of the house-rules.  Swimwear is compulsory in the pool, but not anywhere else, and in fact is a definite no-no in the sauna and steam room. I know it’s just the way I’ve been brought up, but this might take some getting used to. In addition, there are certain parts of my body that really are best kept from public view. I’ve ordered a wrap for the steam room, but the whirlpool is the shady gray area where you can keep your swimmers on, or let it all hang out. As anyone who has ever sat on a European beach will know, it’s always those who should keep covered up, who are the first to bare all! Oh well, as they say, when in the Netherlands....

From the body beautiful (or not as the case maybe) back to the beautiful outdoors...

Finding Our Feet

Now that people are starting to ask me how’s it going in The Hague? I have to come up with a plausible answer.  I’m beginning to realise what a privilege it was to live in Haarlem, and how familiar I’d become with everything there.  Here we’re the newbies again, and yes, although we’re used to those wacky Dutch people and all their funny little ways,  we’re very much still finding our way around town, and the supermarkets.

I may seem obsessed with supermarket shopping but as a ‘stay at home’ huisvrouw I like to have a meal, if not ready, then at least in some state of preparation by the time Mr T comes home.  In Haarlem I knew what I could and couldn’t buy. Here I have three Albert Heijn within walking distance and I find myself blindly wandering around the aisles in a desperate attempt to acquire enough ingredients to create a wholesome dinner. I feel like a stone-age hunter-gatherer. What can I capture to bring home tonight? There’s little point going in with a set-plan.  Sometimes it’s more a question of what is left on the shelves. Don’t get me wrong, there aren’t food shortages over here, far from it, but these shops are relatively small and they don’t carry back-up supplies.

It’s a time consuming exercise but I’ve empty days to fill. After two years in Haarlem I had established a regular social life, a couple of days a week out doing something, a couple of days at home. It seemed to work. When we first arrived in the Netherlands I was determined to swim regularly and after a couple of abortive journeys around the backstreets of Haarlem, I managed to locate the municipal swimming pool. I’ve encountered exactly the same problem here in Den Haag.  Bikes don’t come with Sat Nav. I have to memorise the route before I set off. Dutch road signage leaves a lot to be desired, and so does my sense of direction. It does help if you know your right from your left, but anyone who has ever cycled on the ‘wrong’ side of the road in an unfamiliar town will surely sympathise with my predicament.  Today, at the second attempt, I actually found the nearest of Den Haag’s five municipal pools. And it was shut. Zwembad Gesloten said a notice propped on the unmanned reception desk, with no indication of any opening times. At least I know where it is, even if I can’t use it. A bit like capturing dinner, it was a moment of triumph.

The thing about getting lost is that you discover areas you didn’t know existed, and so far Den Haag is throwing up some very pleasant surprises.

Over the weekend we put on our tourist hats and headed out on a more formal expedition with some very welcome family visitors.  First we visited the Escher museum, and for anyone who doesn’t know – and I didn’t until I looked it up – M C Escher is the artist behind those optical illusions such as water flowing uphill, never-ending staircases and birds turning into fishes. Some of his pictures give you a bit of a headache but the museum was well worth a visit. As was the Dutch National Motor Museum – the Louwman, which we did the next day. Although the weekend ended on a damp squib of a visit to Nordwijk, it had begun with a very enjoyable glass of wine on the beautiful  beach at Scheveningen. 

It’s not Haarlem, but I think we’ll be all right, and in case anyone is wondering, yes I have let the cat out on the balcony unattended, and yes, he did jump off.  The drop from our balcony is higher at one end than the other, and just to confirm my theory about the size of Ed’s brain, he dived off the deep end. Fortunately,  he survived unscathed.