Fall travels - part 1 (Netherlands)

We've been home for a week following a nice excursion out west, and it feels great to be back. But the whole excursion thing began a little earlier for me...

It all started with the sad occasion of my last remaining grandparent passing away in the Netherlands. My opa died at the start of September, marking the end of an era and of a generation (my oma passed away just last year). I hadn't been to any of my grandparents' funerals, so I decided to make the trek for this particular goodbye. I hadn't known these (my maternal) grandparents particularly well, but they'd been to Canada a number of times to visit, and Carrie and I saw them in the Netherlands in 2007.

An early photo of me with Opa

At any rate, I made hurried plans to get there, and I learned that my parents and my li'l sister Marian would be going as well. I booked a cheaper-than-most flight with a little Icelandic airline (Wow Air) and extended one layover in Reykjavik just a little.

My airline had good prices, but it was a no-frills kind of deal. As in, do you want leg room? [Insert old-fashioned cash register sound here] CHING! A standard carry-on size bag to, uh, carry on? CHING! How about a snack? CHING! Yikes. K, maybe just a water? CHING CHING CHING!!! Yup, no frills. I did splurge on some leg room, but forewent the rest; my allowable carry-on was tiny, ridiculously small for the trip I was taking... but yay, no extra fee.

Anyway, off I went! My airline flew out of Montreal, so I took a Greyhound bus from Ottawa to Montreal airport. Took off for an overnight to Amsterdam via Reykjavik. Once in Amsterdam I considered getting a sim card for my phone but got lazy and used wi-fi where I could. But first things first!

Croquettes for breakfast

After my culturally appropriate introductory meal, I went about learning how to get to the city of Assen, the place of my birth. Found a train ticket machine, mastered it, inserted credit card... which the machine spat out after a few moments' thought. "Temporarily rejected." Uh-oh. Yanked out another dustier one. (I don't do cash, so I come prepared with an arsenal of plastic.)

The second card worked; turned out the first card (joint with Carrie) had hit its max due to her work trip to Geneva and then some fraudulent use.

So, armed with a ticket, I hopped onto the correct train and settled in for a two-hour ride. Then... something jogged my memory; I went over to the door and read a sign that confirmed my suspicions: I was supposed to validate/activate my ticket at the station. If a ticket master comes by and my ticket isn't active, the fine is decidedly unpleasant. So I peered out of the train at a couple of stations to see where/how to do this validating. Once I decided I knew what to do, I jumped out of the train at the next stop, ran to the validating station, swiped my ticket... and turned back to the train in time to see it glide gracefully away.

Sigh. At least I still had my tiny bag of possessions with me.

Well, the mission was half successful. I got to wait a half hour for the next train, which took me uneventfully to Assen. There, I pulled out my trusty printed-out minimally-labelled map of the city and started walking. I met a few new people, got to practice my Dutch, and saw much more of Assen than I had intended to that day. That's what happens when your map stinks and your starting point isn't where you think it is on the map. Anyway, a planned half hour walk turned into a scenic hour, and I finally arrived at the home of my aunt (mom's sister) and uncle, whose house used to be owned by my paternal grandparents. Small world, this country.

Sad day but beautiful weather. Service was partly in English, for our benefit.

I stayed only four full days and wasn't there to see the country, but I did take the time to head to Amsterdam one day with Marian. Two hours each way by train for a few hours in the city... it was a hectic day.

Waiting for the train in Assen

The previous time Marian and I were there (September of '81)

On arriving in Amsterdam, we booked a boat tour and then went to a nearby café for some yummy Dutch food. Time always gets away from you when you're having fun, or in Marian's case, when you're laughing so hard you cry...

As always, you don't remember what was so funny. Probably nothing.

Appeltaart... yum!

We paid our bill and asked where the tour might start; the lady pointed us to some boat tour area nearby. Headed over there and asked around, nope, it's back that way. Really, right beside the café we just left? Ran back over there, and caught our boat just in time. We were maybe a dozen tourists on the boat, which was small enough to negotiate a lot of canals the bigger tour boats couldn't get into.

We saw the narrowest house in Amsterdam, Rembrandt's house, plenty of non-level and unstable-looking houses holding each other up, and lots of other sights. Oh, and houseboats. Big ones, little ones, nice ones, dilapidated ones, stuck ones (low bridges built around them), not-so-stuck ones (wheelhouse can be disassembled so the boat can fit under said low bridges)... and much more.

Narrow, and not quite level

Watch your step!

Duck! (Where?)

Waterfront property! Uh, needs work.

After the boat, we walked aimlessly to enjoy the experience of small bustling European streets. A turn here, a twist there, a.. wait WHAT?! I'm strolling along, probably looking at my phone, and Marian notices the, um, wares being displayed in the windows. Okay, so we hustle down the shady street a little faster. I look down a dark alley as we walk past its entrance, and--they must coordinate this--five scantily-clad ladies on each side of the alley lean out from their doorways and eye us. The absurdity of it made me almost want to get a picture, but we imagined angry, uh, employers chasing us down if we did. So we didn't hang around. Alright, lemme consult my bucket list... <rustle, rustle> ... ah, here it is! Visit red light district by accident: check!

Okay, safe to stop for a picture, Marian. It's fine, no need to look up.

We wandered on and came to Anne Frank's house, which Marian had really wanted to see. Unfortunately, if you don't reserve a ticket months beforehand, you get to stand at the end of a long line toward the end of the day and watch a few people get in. We didn't have that kind of time, so we carried on.

After seeing not nearly enough of the city, we headed back to the train station to figure out our return trip. As we stood there waiting, we snickered at someone running like mad to catch a train. "Haha, poor schmuck's missing his train!" Then I paused; let's just make sure we're not missing ours. Checked my phone. OH CRAP! Turns out platforms 10A and 10B are not the same thing. And so we flew like the wind, certain that someone, somewhere, was snickering at these two schmucks trying desperately to make their train. Marian's flipflops clattering along (who knew you could run in those?), her sunglasses flying off behind us to join our dignity. But we made the train, and that's really all that matters.

Off to Meppel! We had planned to stop at an uncle and aunt's place for dinner there. They treated us to Chinese take-out, and we enjoyed a splendid evening. And instead of letting us take the train back to Assen, our dear uncle drove us all the way back to Assen at around midnight. Nicest uncle from Meppel ever!

Oom Roelof's e-bike. No wonder biking seems so easy in Holland!

Oh, and this day was Lily's first day of school ever. How dare I miss this?

Looked sad but wasn't, apparently

The next day it was time to explore Assen, where Dad grew up. We saw his old stomping grounds, former place of employment, even the church where he was baptized. This church had been a Jewish synagogue before World War II; of Assen's over 500 Jews, only two dozen survived the war. The synagogue was no longer feasible for such a small group, and it was sold to the Reformed church. While we were nearby, the caretaker happened by, so we got a look inside as well.

A star of David still adorns a couple of church windows to commemorate the Jews.

We also checked out my dad's childhood home, which was overlooked by the local jail. During the war, Dad's uncle was active in the resistance, and the Germans picked up the man's wife to make her tell them her husband's whereabouts. Well, she didn't know, or at least didn't talk; none of the family knew where she was either, but she had the privilege of looking out her cell window and seeing my grandparents' house and the goings-on of everyday life. After three months, the Germans gave up and released her; my oma was expecting at the time and was excited to tell her... except she already knew, having deduced this from her bird's-eye view across the street! [Dad: let me know if I got my facts wrong.]

Marian had a fixation with old stuff. She complained that the oldest thing she knows is her dad. Every old building she touched was a new record. "Ahh, 100 years old?!?"... "Wow, 200 years old?!?"... "Ooh, 400 years old?!?"

But... this is older than my pa!

We finally encountered an old wall, remains of a monastery dating back to the year 1260 or so. Hope that's old enough for you, Marian!

We encountered the town hall, which made me think to dig into my archives. Tada, same young couple, same spot!

Now

Before colour was invented (45 years or so ago)

An obligatory photo shoot with Bartje. He hasn't aged a bit; can't say that for some of us.

2016

2007

Back in 2007, Carrie and I were planning on our final day in Assen to have lunch with an uncle and aunt, before taking the train to Schiphol or something. Well, it was a Sunday and some friends took us to their church, and time got away from us. By the time we extricated ourselves from a very long service and made it to the uncle and aunt's house, we didn't have time to eat. My dear aunt had prepared a nice hot lunch for us and we had only time to smell it, grab our luggage and run to the train station. We just barely caught our train.

I've felt supremely bad about this for nine years, so it was time to get over it. I went into a flower shop with Marian and found a lovely bouquet to buy for my aunt. Threw down my credit card, and... "we don't take plastic." Huh? Well, I don't carry cash, so that's not cool. Fortunately my little sister carries mad stacks, so she covered it. Anyway, we managed to find my aunt and uncle's place, and I finally got to apologize properly, and I can once again sleep at night. The end.

Now where were we? Right, in Assen. I had a great time catching up with aunts and uncles I rarely see, and with cousins I barely know. Marian took lots of pictures of family, so I didn't bother. My mother has one brother in Alberta and four sisters in the Netherlands. Of about 100 descendants (and spouses) of my late grandparents, more live in Canada than in Holland, but our small visiting Canadian contingent meant about half the clan was there. It was wonderful to connect with so much family we never otherwise see. And since I'm not on bookface or whatever that thing is called, it may be another 10 years before I connect with any of them again.