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*glimpses*

Wednesday, June 10th, 2009

by a girl, who was overly protective of her knee today (with good cause)
Burgum, Holland

With over 200km to travel we knew we should get away early.
But there were photos to be taken of street signs – one street, two names. One side of the street is in Germany and the other is in Holland. I fully expected everyone in the area to just be speaking their local dialect, but on each side of the road was a supermarket and we tried them both……in the one everyone was speaking almost Hochdeutsch – the closest I have heard to the schoolgirl German I learnt years ago. Right across the street the ooplendoorens were flowing fast – definitely Dutch! It really did seem quite bizarre. Having learnt our first Dutch words last night (thank you), we were able to try them out this morning – the two items we intended purchasing turned into a right veritable feast!

And there was a church to visit. Holland’s smallest church, to be precise. It really was teeny tiny:

And on our way home we saw a sign indicating there was a dumping station (dumping of toilets is an all-consuming passion these days!) not far away. So we made use of the facilities, topped up fresh water and put air in the tyres while we were at it. Needless to say, we didn’t leave until well after 1pm.

IMPRESSIONS FROM THE ROAD:

  • flat flat flat Holland is flat!
  • windmills – new ones, old ones, two-three-and-four-pronged ones
  • cows, sheep, horses, chickens, ducks
  • trucks trucks trucks
  • the first thatched roof….and then many more
  • canals, aqueducts (we drove UNDER some), a boat sailing through a field
  • green green green
  • GPS reading we were 15 metres below sea level!

Rob and I had hitch-hiked through Zwolle a couple of decades ago and remembered it as an insignificant crossroads on the autobahn. Either it has grown, or we never got in to the city, but it is now a thriving almost sprawling town. Not that we got in to town this time either – we just snatched a glimpse as we drove by!

Glimpses of gorgy Grou were to follow, as recommended by a dear friend. We almost didn’t bother – she had told us to remember her when we ate double salted licorice, and in honour of being on the road to her town, we cracked open a bag. DISGUSTING! It felt like lightning on your tongue and then left a dreadful taste in your mouth if you hadn’t spit it out quickly enough. I guess you’ve got to grow up with the stuff to truly appreciate it. Would it be the same with Grou? What if we didn’t like that either? Despite the late hour, we zipped off the autobahn to find out.
Oh what a gorgeous little town!!!!!! Immaculate brick houses with the characteristic creative gardens lining not only streets, but also canals. I was all for following the campground signs there and staying the night, allowing time to explore further in the morning and more importantly, to get on with cooking some dinner.
The weightier opinions voted for pushing on and so our glimpse of Grou was over.

We were to glimpse Marssum next. Actually, we were supposed to stay in Marssum at number 39 a-particular-vowel-filled-street-name. With anticipation we drove through the town. Just on the outskirts, sitting beside a bike path was a wonderful old-fashioned windmill, waiting to be explored tomorrow morning. Right in town was a small castle set in beautiful gardens, calling out for the afternoon’s attention. Evening could be devoted to strolling the main steet – coz there’s no way our Womos would fit down there! But number 39 is no longer a parking place. It has a big new green warehouse on it. And so we had to move on. We tried unsuccessfully to find somewhere else to park in town, but ended up dragging out our latest purchase (a directory of thousands of Stellplatz listings) and picked the closest one. Our glimpse of Marssum was over and we were on our way 20km up the road to Burgum. We had not even heard of Burgum before that moment!

We grabbed a glimpse of the boat harbour where we’ll plant ourselves, sat on the grass beside the canal for a quick dinner and snuggled into the vans before the rain set in. Perhaps we’ll get more than a glimpse of our surroundings tomorrow!

Time on the road: 6 hours
Distance covered: 246km

Posted in food, housing, postcard: Holland, toilet, transport | 1 Comment »

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.

Posted in children, dress, God, health, housing, postcard: Germany, postcard: Holland, postcard: Rhein Road Trip | 2 Comments »

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