The scenery flying into Holland was similar to Ireland, patch work fields of greens and gold, but the rolling hills were replaced by complete flatness and canals. Our mood was definitely different flying into Holland seeing as our last night in Ireland made our early morning departure a little rough (to say the least). But it was on to the next leg of our journey and we were excited despite the pounding headaches.
Upon arriving at the Eindhoven airport we realized we had absolutely no real plan. We knew that we eventually wanted to make it to the towns of Barneveld and Voorthuizen (where we would visit family) but had never really thought about how we would get there. After grabbing some maps and a few directions at the information booth (I was surprised to find out how many people spoke English) we headed outside the busy airport to wait for our second source of transportation; the bus.
The bus promptly brought us to the train station where we were to take 4 trains to get us to the town of Barneveld. After switching trains and navigating through the stations and platforms and only taking one wrong train (turning our 4 train journey into 5) we finally arrived at our destination. Now all we needed was to find a place to stay.
Wandering around town we located a little tourism shop where we bought a few maps and had a wonderful lady give us directions to the closest Bed and Breakfast where we decided we would spend the night. After agreeing on a price and paying for the night we were escorted to our room. What lay behind the door was a bit alarming, but after getting up at 4:00am, catching our flight, taking a bus and 5 trains I was ready to lay my head down just about anywhere, even in a pink and purple room I dubbed ‘Arabian Nights’.
Bicycles are Holland’s main source of transportation; there are around 16 million bicycles in the country, just about 1 for every inhabitant. So after planes, train and automobiles we decided it was high time to rent a bicycle. I loved biking through all the little towns, I just felt like waving at everyone. Bikes had their own lanes and all traffic (whether car or pedestrian) would yield to their right of way. And if you happened to step in front of a bike without looking; you would receive a sharp ding from the bell and some words (that I am sure were swear words) muttered at you. We spent a day biking (around 20 km each way) to a little town called Otterlo and through the Hoge Veluwe National Park where we sat and had lunch (cheese and fresh bread we bought that morning at the market) and visited the Kröller-Müller Museum to see the Van Gogh exhibit. Needless to say after so many hours spent on a bike my poor little behind did not want to see another for a very long time.
My husband’s family are originally from Holland so we have spent countless hours listening to his Oma (Dutch for grandmother) recount stories of living in Holland and surviving the war. Whether it was biking to town to get medicine for her brothers and being shot at or jumping from a train with her husband so he wouldn’t go back to the German work camp; her bravery and strength always amazes my husband and I, no matter how many times we have heard the story. With some family still living there we had a wonderful opportunity to be able to stay with some cousins and the privilege of getting to know them.
Every evening we were feed a wonderful meal with endless drinks and chatter about Holland and Canada, family and friends, life and politics. And everyday we were left to explore the towns and the country side. On her days off our hostess would bring us sightseeing; to see a windmill, buy some wooden shoes for our little niece, eat raw herring (not as bad as it sounds) and my favourite; visit a dairy and sample cheese.
With Holland so vast with history we could not leave without learning a little more about the Second World War. It was a difficult decision but we decided that it was important for us to visit one of the many (too many) Nazi work camps that had occupied Holland; Camp Vught. It was a very sombre experience and most of the 2 hour visit was spent in silence and disbelief. We had been aware of the many horrors that occurred during that time but it was so eyrie to walk through where the occupants had slept, ate and died. (I have no pictures to share of this part of the trip; it just didn’t feel right to take any)
After spending nearly a week, biking around the country side, learning our history and getting to know family, our time was almost up. We had a day and a half left and we had decided to spend it in the famous city of Amsterdam. So after saying our goodbyes (and fighting back tears) we hopped on yet another train, waved goodbye and were on our way. Once we settled into our hotel and locked away our valuables (we heard way too many stories of being pick pocketed) we headed out on the town to see what we could see. Of course our first stop was a café along one of the canals to sit and have a Heineken and watch the people go by. Amsterdam definitely had a different pace and mix of people then the rest of Holland. We spent our evening walking through the winding streets, stopping at cafes to have a glass of wine or two (not the other things that were offered on the menus) and wandering through the Red Light District to catch a glimpse of what everyone talks about.
Our last day in Holland was spent walking through the Anne Frank Museum where we got to see where the family lived in hiding from the Nazi’s; hard to believe this all happened only 67 years ago (which really isn’t all that long when you think about it). After leaving the museum we decided our last and final adventure in Holland would be too spend the afternoon taking a canal tour. Amsterdam has more than 100 kilometres of canals, so it seemed like something we needed to do to complete our experience. It was fun to see the city from the water and it was amazing to watch the captain navigate and turn around in the narrow canals.
So the sun was setting on our final day; our week had once again flown by and it would soon be time to pack up our things and climb aboard our plane to meet our friends in Spain for the last leg of our tour. With absolutely no plans or expectations when flying into the country we were leaving with so much more than we came for. We had experienced history, travelled the countryside and got to know my husbands family. We were sad to leave, it almost felt like we were leaving home.
