Europe, Fall 2016: Volendam/ Delft / The Hague

Returned early morning to the hotel with a smile and without any telltale scents clinging to my coat; still wasn’t enough to ward off a slight parental scolding for keeping irresponsible hours, because of course we had two tours booked and had to be at Damrak early.

So I, expert at taking trams in the dark, got us to that buzzing thoroughfare on time, and off we went (in a boomer-approved tour bus, naturally) to Zaanse Schans.

Zaanse Schans, said J last night, making a face. Skip that tour and I’ll take you on some real sightseeing.

Couldn’t take up that offer, unfortunately, but also decided not to complain because yay windmills, and even bigger yay, farm animals! There was a friendly, well-behaved Dutch kitty that didn’t mind being petted, and there was a big dog that came bounding cheerfully up to welcome the tourists.

Wish I could take you home, floof, I said, scratching its ears.

It was the wrong season for tulips, but we were treated to a klompen-making demonstration, and then we went to buy stroopwafels, and by then I was up to my ears in Dutch-ness, but of course I’d forgotten about another national aspect: their seafaring character.

We were bundled aboard a ferry to Volendam, the well-known fishing town to the north. I was feeling a bit contrary, so I elected to stay on deck despite the stiff winds, hood pulled up, and spent the trip staring at the bleak gray surface of the Ijsselmeer, Western Europe’s largest lake.

A flock of gulls followed us as we entered the harbor, most likely the customs committee.

We were herded into Volendam’s cheese factory and were treated to a very touristy, but completely impressive experience. You know it – cheerful, shiny, mutilingual guides merrily chat about cheese and all its permutations, the audience makes all the right noises (moos?) of appreciation as we are taken past several tasting stations, and the tour ends in – where else – the store, where we waste no time adding plenty of Gouda and honey mustard to our stroopwafel and klompen -shaped refrigerator magnet haul.

At lunch we returned to the pier for fish and chips – another one of my favorite memories from this trip, just Mommy and me, sitting on a bench by the harbor, surrounded by inquisitive seabirds, a snapshot shot through with briny air and saltwater and sporadic sunshine.

 Then it was back to Amsterdam…for another tour.

I would have preferred to just wander around the city but that was not an option (file this under generational differences) so I settled in for an afternoon on the road.

Delft was the first stop, and I was immediately charmed by it. It is a very pretty city, with a proper, erudite sort of air about it; even its canals are rather composed. The Delft factory was spectacular, and I only wish I had a steamer trunk for all the exquisite blue-and-white wares on display.

The second stop was The Hague. We rolled past Noordeinde Palace (the King is in residence, proclaimed the guide, and we were only three days early for the Duchess of Cambridge’s visit!)

Pride flags snapped in the breeze elsewhere, and I took a photo outside the International Court of Justice, wondering if I should send it to my Universiteit Leiden professor, whose MOOC on international relations I’d attended.

(Remember, this trip was shortly after the SCS decision by the Hague-based Permanent Court of Arbitration, so I was feeling quite patriotic. And yet here we are, not even a year later, making the same mewling appeasement noises as if the law weren’t on our side. *sigh*)

Last stop of the day was Madurodam, where I consoled myself with the fact that if I couldn’t visit Prinsengracht and the Rijksmuseum in person this time, I could at least view them in miniature.

It was late when we returned to Amsterdam.  We took a guess on the tram (correctly, as it turned out) and even managed to assist some tourists with directions to Dam Square.

All the restaurants were already closed in our dystopian business park, so the day ended with dinner from the supermarket and a good long sleep. We’ve been fortunate to have nothing but divine beds on this entire trip.

*****

Our last morning in Europe began with a very nice breakfast, and for me a raft of messages from people starting to wonder when I was returning to the tropics.

At airport immigration, the officer said, So how did you enjoy the Netherlands?

Me, brightly: It’s beautiful and I don’t want to leave your country. (Which would probably top the list of things you should never say to an immigration officer.)

Officer (taking it in stride and smiling back): See you again!

Oh you will, Officer. You will.