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fierce allegiances

Tuesday, June 16th, 2009

by Rachael
Stellendam, Zeeland, The Netherlands

To be honest, we were overcome with the politeness of the drivers in Germany. You needed only to turn your indicator on and even the biggest trucks would move over to allow you passage into their fast-flowing stream. Even when you were obviously not going to keep up. And if you forgot to turn your indicator off again (very easy to do when these vehicles rattle and bang so much that a gentle tick-tick-ticking easily goes unnoticed), they will draw up alongside with a friendly wave and hand signals, which you eventually interpret long after they have disappeared off into the distance.
We also noticed that although the traffic flowed quickly, no-one really seemed in a hurry. There was no zipping in and out of traffic, no dangerous overtaking, no dodgy manouvres, no impatience. Just all orderly. “German,” you might be inclined to say!

Then we got to Holland. Everyone is in a hurry. Not the type of hurry that fills three lanes with six rows of cars like in Asia, but they are all going fast. And squeezing into spaces that they really don’t fit into. And overtaking. And they don’t let you in no matter how long your indicator flashes. And they honk. Yes, they honk at us as they go past. Now, we are not sure if it is because we are too slow, or if it is the German registration and big D sticker on the back. Is there perhaps a not-so-friendly rivalry between these neighbours?
We’ll let you know when we take our next drive. Because now we are clearly no longer German:

The D sticker has been replaced with an NZL and some kiwi flavour created-by-Jgirl14, held in place by boys with sticks and sprayed by Rob. When we meet Aunty in less than a week, we’ll have a flag to fly as well!
Actually, one of the things we have noticed about almost all the countries we have travelled through, both in Asia and Europe alike, is that the citizens are more patriotic than us Kiwis. Finding a national flag to snap a picture of is no problem whatsoever. In fact, in Holland, many of the housing complexes we have walked around have had flagpole holders beside every door. I suspect the most frequent time a kiwi would  fly a flag is at a rugby game, and even then, it will be the silver fern, rather than the flag reflecting our heritage. Maybe it’s because we have such a short history. More likely it’s because we don’t even know our history and so don’t connect with it in the same way ancient cultures can.

This would seem an appropriate place to consider our history as a nation. Here we are in Zeeland, the original. In 1642 the Dutch explorer, Abel Tasman, became the first European to see our islands and assumed it to be part of a southern continent connected with land discovered in 1615 off the southern tip of South America. Our name originated with some later Dutch cartographers, who called the islands Nova Zeelandia after the Dutch province of Zeeland. No one is certain who coined the term,  but it first appeared in 1645……about when the buildings we visited in Amsterdam the other day were being built! British explorer Captain James Cook subsequently anglicised the name to New Zealand. History lesson from Zeeland over.

Good-bye Germany, Hallo Holland

Tuesday, June 9th, 2009

by an aching, throbbing Rach
Dinxperlo, Holland

Dinxperlo
Doesn’t that just have a ring about it? Choosing our route northwards, this sounded as good a place as any a delightful place to make the border crossing. Dinxperlo.
And so we found ourselves in a town, which has streets with yellow crosses along the roads, sometimes right down the middle of a street delineating the border – a D on one side and an N on the other, a real border town.

And what a welcome we received. The carpark, where we were supposed to park was closed, but we found another a little further along the street, so we drove in to investigate. Out of nowhere a HandPaintedClog-wearing man appeared on a bicycle. Only if he’d been carrying tulips and cheese would he have been more Dutch, and we guessed we were in the Dutch part of Dinxperlo. In a crude German-y-Dutch-y conversation he established that we could not park where we were, but directed us to a spot under some trees that would be fine. He took off to see if he could organise power for us – well beyond the realm of duty! In the end it was not possible, but we had a friendly introduction to Dutchies….talking about his shoes and our origin and, of course, thanking him profusely for his help. Who was he? No idea. Why did he help us? I really don’t know. Did he have to? Not at all.
After dinner we took a short stroll around the neighbourhood. A tidy compact manicured place it is. Every home, most of which are duplexes, has a well-kept creative garden out the front, large picture windows filled with carefully arranged potplants and decorations, and many have the characteristic Dutch lace. It feels like stepping into a Home and Garden magazine! Except there are goats and chickens in some of the backyards – Dinxperlo is so small it doesn’t know if it is urban or rural.

This was the end of the day. We had already enjoyed the last of the German countryside (and finally found some cows – we had been wondering where all the cows were to provide the vast quantities of milk and cheese and quark and cream that the country seems to use – in all our previous travels we had not seen any grazing cows – but today we found them in the north), but our day was ending later than if our morning activities had not got accidentally drawn out. It’s not that Rob played nurse too slowly – he certainly did not, gouging away at small stones and dirt as fast as he could. It’s just that he shouldn’t have even needed to. As Grandpa and I rode down through a stone tunnel I took note of the council worker’s water coursing down the hill and the inch-fat hose we would need to cross at some point. With these factors in mind, and with perhaps three seconds to do my thinking in, I slowed (or maybe I was still just thinking about slowing) and tried to choose the point where the hose was furtherest away from the wall to give me more space to get over it straight. But I didn’t make it. And before I knew it, at the moment just before my head hit the wall, I thought that this would be  really good time to have a helmet on. The things you think! Following very quickly behind came one shoulder, one hand and both legs, making contact with solid wet muddy ground and I realised I had fallen off. Clutching my head, teeth clenched for some unknown reason, I sat there in my puddle wondering how the computer on my back had fared. Hopefully better than my ripped (new-in-China) jeans. Or my thumb nail, also ripped off down one side. (By the way, I don’t do blood well, so I covered that quickly with a plaster – always carry a small pair of scissors and strip of plaster – you never know when you’ll need them….and I didn’t even look at the knee or ask about the face….I just thanked Grandpa for removing some of the mud to make me look more respectable!)
What do you do when you fall off a horse bike? I know the answer to both those questions! You get straight back on and head for home. Much the same as when you get hit by a motorbike in Vietnam! My nurse-with-tactful-bedside-manner pointed out these increasingly regular, alarmingly similar occurrences as he splashed antiseptic solution around. And I was glad that we were laughing together. I felt loved as children took my clothing to wash in a bowl quickly before setting off. I felt loved as the smallest children showered me with hugs and kisses and concerned questions and efforts to not knock me all day long (I must say The Bear Cave feels small when there are eleven of you assembling for a meal and you’re trying to protect opposite shoulder and knee from the unaware!) And I thank God that He answered my recent prayer, albeit in an unexpected way, to help us love each other more deeply.

fun and games

Monday, June 8th, 2009
by Rach, who loved the slide as much as the children Koeln, Germany The morning: Yesterday we had seen a playground with a fantastic-looking slide across the river. Today we investigated it more closely:

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sightsee-ers, stars and scavengers

Sunday, June 7th, 2009
by Rachael Koeln, Germany Sightsee-ers “No, a family ticket is for one family. You are one two three four and more people.” "Yes, but we are one family. These are our children.” ”No, a family ticket is for only children of one family.” ”Alles klar. ... [Continue reading this entry]

rain & rabbits, fire & flowers

Saturday, June 6th, 2009
by Rachael Koeln, Germany

 

The first full day of rain. From morning to night. As the afternoon wore on the Womo walls contracted almost visibly – or at least it felt like it. By dinnertime ... [Continue reading this entry]

more corners, castles and kilometres

Friday, June 5th, 2009
by Rachael Rasthof outside Koblenz, Germany Would there be as many today? First corner….a castle. Second corner…..another castle. Third corner….surely not, but yes, yet another castle. Fourth corner…..yep, you guessed it. I think it was about the seventh or eighth corner that there was merely a ... [Continue reading this entry]

on every corner

Thursday, June 4th, 2009
by Rach Bacharach, Germany A castle on every corner, we’d read. Well *that* was surely a spot of for-the-tourist’s-benefit exaggeration. But we figured there would be a degree of truth in the statement. We rounded our first corner, and lo and ... [Continue reading this entry]

a change of direction

Wednesday, June 3rd, 2009
by the principle writer Bingen am Rhein, Germany To arrive in London a week before Rob’s sister arrives to spend two weeks with us was the original (well, 37th actually) plan. But we are changing our mind about as often as ... [Continue reading this entry]

you can’t stop the learning

Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009
by a learner Bingen am Rhein, Germany Every day I happen across older kids with their maths textbook open or copying out Latin vocabulary, smaller ones are continually badgering for “how to spell” something, especially the ones who were writing *nothing* ... [Continue reading this entry]

housekeeping

Monday, June 1st, 2009
by the principle housekeeper Bingen am Rhein, Germany We’ve got into a housekeeping groove…every morning the beds are put away, nappy washed, breakfast warmed up (we turn the heat on the porridge the night before and leave it wrapped in a ... [Continue reading this entry]