Nederland July & August 2006
08/21/2006 05:45 a.m.
“The Summer of The Potato Eaters”

Trip to Europe (Netherlands, Belgium & Germany)
July 11 2006 – August 11 2006
Leonard M. Hawkes

Since high school I have written journal entries; not always in a formal journal, but sometimes quite formally. I learned at an early age that writing helps me to focus on what’s really happening and what’s really important, and that writing can help me to pass through difficulties. As a teacher of history, I also value written accounts from real lives. Perhaps these entries will be of value to someone else, at the time they were written, they were certainly of value to me.

Calling this journal “The Summer of The Potato Eaters” is an exaggeration (Margriet and Ruud, my good, long-time friends and wonderful hosts in Lopik really made so much of this trip possible.), but the biggest share of this trip was spent in Nederweert, the gateway to De Groote Peel National Park (a memorial to peat-digging). The people I lived with and worked with here were literally descendents of those that van Gogh might have known and painted 130 years ago. When I visited the van Gogh in Amsterdam on one of the last days of my trip, I found myself especially attracted to his paintings of that period of his life and of those people.

“Amersfoort”

It was here
I first knew
The Renaissance—
Red brick, moat,
And cobblestone:
An enlightening,
Winding, coziness
Singing of
Seven centuries.

L. Hawkes
13 July 06 – Amersfoort, Netherlands

*

“Domekerk Utrecht”

Here is the World:
Broken, restored,
A fragment
Of living history,
A testimonial husk
Of striving Spirit:
Cold stone
To draw me homeward
While my heart beats
Hot here below.

13 July 06 – Utrecht, Netherlands

*

“Hof”

Here, beyond the walls
Among the herbs, flowers,
And song of water,
I sense their spirit:

I too have been
A Brother here,
And the encoded walls
Spell out our path:

Willibrord,
St. Martin, and
Down to me.

13 July 06 – Utrecht, Netherlands

*

“Hof II”

It is perhaps
This timelessness
That I have
Tried to create
In the hills of home;

Or is it their
Eternity that
I read here
In the foliage
And the stone.

13 July 06 – Utrecht, Netherlands

*

Saturday 15 July 2006

Brugge and Ghent are no more strangers; and Belgium is more than a few impressions and a cold gloomy day in Antwerp.

Sluis, though choked with tourists, still felt historical. Aardenburg was by Luke presented with the brightness of a native son. St. Anna . . . had the ageless charm of a country maiden; Damm seemed as fragmented and simple as the legends of Till Eulen Spiegel.

Brugge: I once had hopes for Brugge; I had read descriptions and heard accounts, but doubted. And though Brugge too was crawling with tourists, it was fascinating: so expansive, Flemish culture displayed so powerfully. Such a vision of Netherlandic glory and wealth, I’ve never seen, except, I suppose, in Amsterdam; And Amsterdam, I find tainted beyond good taste by the modern.

Yesterday we saw the monstrous Schelde of the harbor of Antwerp. Today we saw the Schelde near Ghent shriveled to a muddy ditch flanked with oozy slime. Today my former, somewhat slimy impressions of Belgium were engrandured by the day’s revelation of Vlaandren. I would share it; surely I would come again.

Luke’s Russian Salad

1 can peas
1 can corn
3 hard boiled eggs
crab meat
mayonnaise

Sunday 16 July 2006

Today I attended church in Dordrecht. Only the Vernes’ remained from the Dordrecht that I knew—I felt a bit old.

I was asked to say a word or two in Sacrament Meeting—and I wept. I felt so full of so many feelings: thankfulness, spiritual witness (testimony), memory, intellectual adequacy; mostly, I suppose, the Holy Ghost. I spoke of Zr. Vernes, of my time in Dordt, and our work, of what I have done in the Church since then, and bore I my testimony.

Afterward the Vernes’ (Wim and Jani) took me for a walk through the “binnenstadt” of Dordrecht. Much is changed and cleaned up. I followed well through the Kil and harbor sections, but got lost about the time we got to the Nieuwe Kerk. It's that curve of the river.

Really the inner city was much improved in cleanliness and quality of living.

Afterward, we went to their home, ate bread, and visited.

They brought me by way of Kinderdijk to the veer that crosses to Schoohoven. In minutes, I was within minutes of Lopik. There, I looked around, drank a Spa water (so I could use the W. C.) and then called Margriet, who picked me up and brought me along the “scenic route” home.

Tomorrow I may go to Arnhem, Ede, Wageningen, and shop for a “camping pad” in Utrecht.

I’m sleepy. But for the first time in my life, I can boast that I have been to all provinces of Nederland—a goal accomplished. I feel 50—not 54. I’m tempted to go for an evening walk.

17 July 2006

In Germany again—Cleves. Though I don’t speak German well by any means, I was comfortable and did some shopping for school, bought some food, visited a museum and a specialty men’s shop, walked around a lot, and did it all comfortably, though, yes, with limited spoken fluency. Though I say spoken fluency, because my reading fluency is considerably higher.

I enjoyed the castle (climbed the tower), visited the large church close by (and lit a candle), ate curry wurst and a strawberry tortelette, and enjoyed the whipped cream.

In a way this trip has felt like a fulfillment of many years of preparation: I’ve maintained my Dutch; I’ve improved my German; I’ve studied history and geography; I’ve built a Scouting resume; I’ve maintained friendships and memories; and I’ve made or will make use of all of them before the trip is done. It’s like spending a wealth of jewels, and yes it is costing me, but the real wealth is being invested, not used up. (5:54 p. m. Cleves)

“Wageningen”

It began here
Amid the beeches
And the sand hills
Along the Rhine.

I was entranced
As firey tongues
Engulfed me:
I was born again

With the saints
And the students
And the brown
And the white Dutch,

We, all Sinners
(I among them),
Read the faith
And played the Light,

Our humble chords
Resounding
In the woods,
On the heath,

And from out the heart,
As Nederlanders.

17 July 06—Wageningen, Netherlands

*

“17”

I had forgotten
This mourning
Of the smoldering
Of youth.:
This age-sight
Of recklessness.

I would spare
The new blossom
(For my own consumption?)
With an assurance
Of virtue—
Celebrate fresh dew—
Not globs of tar—
And radiant youth
Unwasted on the young.

17 July 06 – Utrecht Central, Netherlands

*

22 July 2006

I’m in Weert—4 days into camp and my first day out—No, I admit I have gone on substantial walks two mornings. People at camp are nice. I’m an outsider. They see me as somewhat of an oddity because I speak Dutch and am an American (I was even interviewed briefly on the local radio this afternoon).

Wouldn’t you know it, I’m in McDonalds on the Old Market/Groote Kerk’s Plein. But there’s air conditioning here (it’s been terribly hot!), a table, and a predictably nice W. C.

Food has been bread for breakfast and lunch, and macaroni (yes, every day) for the evening meal. But yes, it has been good and filling.

The group from California is from the San Gabriel Council and the lady knows David Dibble and crew—a Camp Loll connection even in Europe!

Today we had a little shower that tempered the heat a bit. Even now it became suddenly humid.

The bus arrived 10 minutes early. At least that makes the wait less mysterious—but it will leave on time.

Weert is largely a new city. Between the station and the walking-centrum there was a rotting section (though relatively new) of shopping terrain—with nothing of interest.

Tomorrow’s plan: no breakfast at camp, Mass in the Lambertus Kerk in Nederweert, then perhaps Eindhoven for brunch, and then back to Nederweert for the opening ceremony and then in the afternoon/evening to Heerlen or Maastricht. I’m getting that “I really do miss home” feeling, and yet so far, I’ve felt quite Netherlandicaly at home. There is, and no doubt will always remain, a root of my soul here in the Netherlands. How best to deal with it? I don’t know.

23 July 2006 Nederweert, Netherlands

I attended church (mass) at the St. Lambertus Kerk. It was a pleasant and practically done church interior. The service was of course in Dutch, and the echo in the chapel made it difficult to hear and understand. People were not unfriendly, but there was also no reaching out—which I suppose is a real measure of “the spirit.” And the Dominee (very Dutch, not Limburgs) seemed old and weary.

The bus I’m in is really just a van—not a bad idea—maybe something for our future in Beaver Dam. The busses go every 2 hours on Sunday. I have 2 hours until I can catch the bus back to Budscop (our bus stop in Nederweert—our part of town, actually). I just didn’t have “the heart” to stay in camp. The tents are in the sun, and I’m tired of the heat!

As I passed the city hall in Nederweert, I saw the camp van and camp people working on the opening ceremony (I suppose).

I’m somewhat tired today: I was last Sunday too, but then I’m hungry this morning too. I was even that “dreamy-almost visionary-sleepy” in mass today. I wish I had a cool, shady place to rest out the rest of the day.

“English”

Old mother, I have
Been tagged by you:
You have molded
My mouth and
Encased me in your
Culture:
Lucky I am, that
You have rolled forth
And fill the earth now
Like a stone.

And yet, the snippets
And the clumps and
Pre–formed slabs, I find
Glistening here in this land
Of Germanic mishmash,
I too often mourn—

For it is not goodness,
It is not virtue that radiate,
And if not rot and foolishness,
It’s poison that streams forth
And swishes about in the air.

I have sought and
Known your treasure,
Spread it unhesitatingly
And professionally as a legacy;
Yet Satan has made of heaven’s light
The very illumination of hell.

(undated probably started 23 July 06, in Weert – a response to the things Dutch teenagers say in English—yes, often to shock me— but still very much a reflection of their usage level of what they consider to be practical English)

23 July 2006

Today was the “Opening Ceremony” for the NICES camp. We all got in uniform and paraded through the streets to the city hall where we were welcomed by a number of authority figures including the “major # 2” (The real mayor is on vacation and besides, the 2nd mayor is over clubs and organizations.)

25 July 2006

Another pleasant morning promising to be another hot day. Hot wouldn’t be such a problem, but here in this horse pasture there are no trees!

Today we go to indoor climbing in Eindhoven, I believe. Yesterday’s rafting was a bit “weak-firstdayish,” but the actual rafts and rafting was fun, and I took a picture or two.

I wanted to make note of the “real Dutch” meals we’ve had. Sunday Dinner: vegetable soup, slavinken (hamburger and pork mixed and shaped like a 3” piece of wurst and wrapped in bacon), canned peas and carrots, fake potatoes, and salad (lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers and onions mixed), fla flips for dessert.

Yesterday: mushroom soup (from a mix with extra onion and mushrooms added), Dutch bratwurst with potatoes (boiled), canned beans, and the standard 3 element salad. The shoe from the bratwurst was served over the potatoes, so everything was somewhat swimming in the greasy brownish juice.

I had to beg to use the internet last evening, but I got Jan written and Margriet answered (I had a letter yesterday-Email delivered from the “organizatie”). I hummed the “Handcart Song” yesterday morning to celebrate the 24th of July. I mentioned to someone that today was a holiday and what it meant. And the return comment was, “ya, they were the people who drove the Indians out.”

I think one of the greatest lies of our time is the confusion over what is “civilization.” We’ve fallen into an intellectual trap.

“Weert”

Knowing the emptiness
Or freedom and solitude
Of an evening alone
In the city:
Sticky from the heat
Hungrily alone and
Savoring the appetite:
Knowing,
But miserably
Innocent.

Linden leaves against
An almost indigo sky,
The yellow glare of
Street lamps,
Muffled voices,
The mixed smell
Of sweat and beer,
And thoughts of home.

(undated, probably 25 July 2006 – Weert, Netherlands)

“Night Fest”

Beyond the bus stop
On St. Rochus Plein,
I heard the thump of bass,
And a quarter mile away
The music is recognizably clear.

Beyond, the silent village
Stops its knowing ears
As its youth celebrate
Their sense of brotherhood
And community.

(undated, probably 25 July 2006 – Nederweert, Netherlands)

26 July 2006 Nederweert, Netherlands

It was warmer last night in the night, and there are a few clouds this morning. Also, there’s very little dew—all changes in the weather, but if it has any meaning (which it did have), I don’t know; weather has remained hot.

Today the American group is going to Amsterdam and Rotterdam—that would be fun, but a long traveling day. I have “Infodienst” and get to help pass out tickets this evening—it went quite well last evening—“Ticket Verdeeling,” that is.

It won’t be long, when I get back home, that I will miss Europe, but mornings and evenings especially, I get tired of the work and the constant cultural and linguistic “swim.” I long for the “normalcy” of home.

The “troops are out,” it’s 11:20 a. m. and “the organizatie” is fussing to repair something ( they are always busy, not lazy, with varied abilities and leadership).

It’s now 13: 20. It’s probably 92 degrees outside and I just drank my hot cup of bullion. It was ordered, in light of the extremely hot temperatures, that we all drink a hot cup of bullion as we enter the camp each afternoon after activities (between 16:00 and 17:00). Yes, it’s for the salt that bullion provides, but in my mind, I can see how people would react on hike day if we set up a table in the parking lot and made everyone drink a hot salty cup of bullion before we let them go back to their camps.

One thing that I find a bit obnoxious (and I’ve seen this before) is that the first aid people think that all camp living should rotate around their perception of our health. They are heroically saving us from ourselves—does this sound something like religion? And we follow, trusting in their vision for our sight.

Last night’s meal consisted of fried chicken (a giant McNugget type) served with hash browns (good homemade) and topped all with a large dipper full of canned mixed vegetables. For dessert we had mixed chocolate and vanilla vla.

The group from Luxembourg just arrived—leaders a 2hr drive with gear—the kids are coming on the train to be delivered here with the camp vans.

The first aide is feeding us hot soup, and yet don’t seem much concerned about the sunburns coming in from the “outdoor swimming.” It will be interesting to see if sunburn becomes now a real health issue (it didn’t).

It’s 34 degrees here in the Infokeet (that’s 96 Fahrenheit) and 40? Minutes left to go on this shift.

It’s now nearly midnight, and of course they are still carrying on in the “party tent.” “Kerioki Evening” is tonight’s program; one crew member, “Staf” is his name, has been especially participatory—not much talent, but plenty of volume and enthusiasm. I’ve thought how shocked Annie would be that this “nightclub/ bar” atmosphere is also Scouting.

We got good food tonight, a “saté salad” of sorts. I’ll call it Indonesian Salad. It was sort of like Hawaiian Haystacks: rice at the bottom; cubes of fried beef (pork would work); sate (pinda) sauce; then on top of that lettuce and tomatoes; cucumbers and onions mixed; topped with diced fried onions (food service type); and on top of that salad dressing (a ranch type).

I went “fietsing” tonight: I “felt it” again tonight, it almost made this entire trip worth while: the open fields, the green smell, the woods and marsh, biking itself, the small dorps, the evening and the setting sun: it was “transcendental.” I visited the English War Cemetery and De Groote Peel National Park, and the 24hr. Open Gas Station. Two hours, almost, on the bike.

27 July 2006 – Nederweert, Netherlands

This afternoon my activity was the molen (wind mill) just north of camp, the St. Joseph. There are 3 windmills left in Nederweert, but at one time there were 13. It was interesting to see again how it all worked—I had 3 groups of 10 (2 Austrian, 1 Welch), so I learned it well. Tonight I’m going to Maastricht. It’s just starting to sprinkle.

I just got on the train to Maastricht. What I will do there? Eat, anyway.

Roermond, Sittard now. It is so sweaty hot, I can hardly stand it. Passing through Beek now. I still find it almost mysteriously ironic that this area was my own father’s war portal into Germany. An area I know relatively well and now from multiple experiences.

The land is uneven now, hilly—I’m really in the south.

Maastricht

Maastricht was even better than I had remembered it. It’s a pleasant, old, elegant city. It leans toward the Belgian-French, but has a feeling of its own.

I ate Greek food on the Vrijthof, walked around the St. Servaas, visited the Onze Lieve Vrow Basilik, sauntered through the walking district of the centrum, walked along the Maas, had a shake at McDonalds (to use the W.C. again), and then went back to the station to write.

Really, the city felt like a pleasant, gentle, old friend. Was it my expectation? Was it the city? Surely it was “spirit of place.”

The land is so old here. Yes, I know some of its history, but like a rich painting, it reflects complex multiple colors and tones: blended color, not pointalistic: rich browns or greens. Sometimes, I can almost see the Druids, the Romans, Charlemagne, the Duke of Hoorne, the invading Spanish and French; and certainly the Nazi’s and Americans. Yes, a rich multi-layered painting. Where tomorrow? I had thought someplace German, but I’m not sure.

I am honestly quite tired by the end of each day. I sleep well in spite of the heat.

It didn’t rain, but it's mostly cloudy and therefore darker than usual—but still humid and warm.

28 July 2006 – Heerlen, Netherlands

What a great day! I really didn’t know where to go today, and Frank’s (live in) girlfriend (Lobke—how’s that for a name) suggested Valkenburg. I realized that I may not get a second chance, so I went with the idea of stopping off in Heerlen too.

The “Thermen Museum” was great—very well done. I also have some materials for school.

Heerlen itself seemed confusing, somewhat dirty and disorganized, and under construction—not changed in those aspects; but the downtown was remodeled, seemed larger and more crowded.

When I came out of the museum, I suddenly felt and could see where I was. It was like the whole surroundings suddenly fell into place—like having new eyes with an inner map that matched. –sounds like religion. Oh yes, and I talked to an American lady. Her husband is stationed with Nato here.

29 July 2006 – Camp at Nederweert, Netherlands

I’ve gotten lazy with my Dutch now that we have to speak English with many of the campers. I’ve also decided that my fifty-year-old deafness doesn’t make it any easier to communicate—especially since so many speak so “plaat.”

I’ve spent the day doing “terrainonderhoud.” And of course, I got dirty (greasy black barbeque grill scrubbings), but overall, today I have stayed busy with everything from picking up trash and washing out sinks and garbage cans, to fixing flat bike tires and providing a ladder to get a Frisby off the roof of the Manege.

I don’t know if I’ll go anywhere tonight. I may have to help with the “Infokeet.”

30 July 2006 – Heerlen, Netherlands

I’m at a Chinese restaurant. I just came from Church in Heerlen. It was large (both the branch and the building); It was dominated by Americans—therefore not especially friendly; I felt very much “at refuge” “plugged into a greater (or at least my) reality.” The talks were ok (Sac. Mtg talks in Dutch over talents and Priesthood Keys); S. S. lesson was in English (by a rather pompous “returned emigrant” from America type), and was about the prophet (Elijah) and the drought and the widow, and of course the defeat of the altar of the priests of Baal. Priesthood and Relief Society were combined, and it started out with Wilfrord Woodruff’s first mission, but grew into a discussion on faith—lead by a cute young American serviceman. No, I wasn’t disappointed, but wonderfully pleased that things here in Heerlen are so strong. I’m eating (the Heerlen tradition for me) Fu Jong Hai mit Rijst. But the omelet is in strips piled with chicken chunks and topped with a tomato sauce (like tomato soup) served, of course, with white rice (though I could have had fried rice).

I’ve decided that Heerlen is “Ogdenish.” Always trying to renew and improve itself, and never quite able to put it’s real rough past behind (and the teenage hooligans at the train station do look/act rough and seem gang-like).

If I can spend 3 ½ more hours here, I can ride back to Weert on my after 6:00 p. m. retour. Oddly I don’t know what to do for the next three hours (I walked directly to the public library/art museum--unvelievable!).

“Heerlen”

You are a hardened woman—
Elegance in a rough exterior—
Innocence long gone and required to stand with “the toughs.”
And yet I sense in you the spirit of the Holy Maria—
Earthy, but not unrepentant

30 July 2006 – Heerlen, Limburg, Netherlands

*

Limburgse Vlaai Description

1. Piece served like pie; 7” long 3” wide at the back
2. Cherry? Filling
3. Top crust (bakery) diamonds maybe ¼ inch wide and ½inch long;looks “stamped”
4. With crust, diamonds are about 1”
5. Thickness of crust about ¼” or less
6. Curved against the pan side of crust about 3/4” high
7. Sprinkled on top with coarse sugar.
8. Usually served with coffee

No, I couldn’t get on the train 3 minutes early! So I’m on the “Stoptrein” to Sittard where I’ll have to connect to Weert (probably with the train from Maastricht). At least I’m inside (it’s pouring rain) and it’s paid for. I hope things are ok back at camp.

Now station Hoensbroek (just north of Heerlen). Now station Nuth (6: 27 p. m.). Now station Schinn (6:29 p. m.) . . . Geleen Oost.

Eindhoven 9:15 p. m. (21:15)

I am amazed sometimes at both my ability (and sometimes lack of ability) to find places. On Tuesday when I was in Eindhoven, I looked briefly at a map of the centrum. Tonight I walked directly to where I had wanted to go. Call it memory, subconscious. Or some kind of spirit—I did hear it or saw it and went directly there. It was very strange.

Now back to Weert, the bus, and bed. I’m not sure what dienst I have tomorrow, I better look.

Richting Weert

I don’t think that I wrote down that I lead the music in Priesthood – Relief Society today, “Lead Me Into Life Eternal.” He asked if anyone could lead, and I could tell that he was surprised that I’d volunteer. That means that both gemeentes got some service/participation from me. I don’t know about next week.

1 August 2006 – Nederweert (Infodienst) 13:05

Yesterday I went to De Groote Peel National Park with the older Scottish leader named Pamela. She was surprised that they would send a staff member out with only one person signed up for the activity. I translated (roughly) her through the visitor’s center and then we walked 6 K’s through the park. It was “veen”: mixed heather, grassland-marsh with dark mucky pools (from the peat digging), some were good sized ponds with ducks on them. There were little frogs everywhere, and enough trees and wild flowers to keep things interesting. We spoke of our homes and families and scouting, and of course about the things we were experiencing in the park and at camp. Afterward we ate some Limburgse Vlaai (Apricot)—she had never had any—while we waited for the ride back to camp.

In the evening I had “Infodienst” in the “Infokeet.” It lasts until midnight, so I was a bit sleepy this morning (I got up at 6:45 a. m.). Now today again “Info” and tonight perhaps to Eindhoven. I quite enjoyed myself there Sunday evening.

Yesterday afternoon I had a “friet” topped with goulash—the goulash was ½ inch cubes of meat with lots of mushrooms, onions, paprikas, very fine carrots; the sauce wasn’t tomato but was red-brown (probably paprika) and might have contained some tomato.

I wrote both Blake and the Principal this morning about the regional sportsmanship conference. I hope things work out well—I worry when I am there, and really worry when I’m not. Though I admit, I haven’t (thus far) been troubled with a lot of home worries this trip.

Both head cooks have injured ankles, so we got Chinese tonight (take out). I’m just waiting. Unfortunately I have ticket dienst tonight, so I have to stick around. At least it’s cool enough that the tent feels ok.

The Belgians (a big group, a “groupy” group and a somewhat obnoxious and looked down upon by the Dutch group) have been waiting in line for an hour already for tickets—that will mean a 3 hour wait for them!

Marike’s Colesla

1 witte kool
1 zakje rozijnen (200 gm)
1 prei
2 ½ eetleepel mayo
200 ml yoghurt
6 appels (Jonagolds)
1 teelepel mosterd
kerriepoeder
alles snijden en door elkaar
mengen; 1 dag in de koelkast
laten staan

2 August 2006

I found out again tonight that I didn’t have to do ticket dienst—at the time ticket dienst was starting (no doubt they are faster at it—I only did it once last week). But now it’s raining and windy (in a way it feels like a mountain summer storm—only, I guess because I’ve experienced such). In the background (noises) is that constant thump-thump of rock music bass (here often synthesizer) and of course kids and traffic.

This morning I had Activitydienst—Farmer Golf, which turned out to be really fun. The clubs were mop sticks with small klompen attached for the smacking part-angled even like a golf club would be. The ball was an 8” fairly soft soccer ball. The holes were like ice cream buckets or 10-tins, each marked with a numbered flag. There were 10 of them, and the pastures where we played (complete with cows, fences, water ditches, varied grass lengths, ruts, and cow pies) covered I would guess about 10 to 15 acres. We did it in 2 teams of 5, whoever’s ball was farthest from the hole got to go. Like with golf, whoever had the fewest strokes won—and my team one: me, three Scottish girls, and a Finn named Nick.

I’m sleepy. The rain on the tent makes me drowsy.

Tonight for supper we had boneless pork chops fried and then steamed; with them boiled potatoes and canned beans—fruit for dessert.

This afternoon I went to Weert. I tried to call home, but couldn’t get through. I bought a phone card (10 Euro); bought a nice watercolor book; ate döner (I missed lunch at camp) (döner meat in a pita 12” rolled up with onions, pepper, tomatoes, and lettuce)—delicious.

Luke was just now here to say goodbye. He was a good kid, friendly, a bit picked on sometimes. He was quite bossy to work with (he obviously had been bossed—but Nederlanders can be nasty-bossy). I have his email and I gave him mine. He did speak plaat though—always hard to understand. He’s going on a vacation to Rhodes with his girlfriend Esther (from Ospeldijk—out by the Groote Peel).

Really, so much of this camp has been run by college + age young men and their live-in / camp-in girl friends. The girls serve gladly and the boys expect them to “pull their weight”—and they do + often to please the boys; but often too because they are also very much a part of scouting.

Co-ed Scouting is not moral (though I haven’t noticed specific such behavior among the participants here) but among the staff at least, ½ are camped boy-with-girl in the same tent. And I don’t doubt that many of the others would like to be.

I haven’t noticed a “gay element.” Only Danny seemed like he was covering it up with a macho image. Anthony (his buddy) seems young enough to be confused, but thankfully that isn’t something we’ve had in our midst.

Obviously a live band (and not very good) will be tonight’s entertainment.

It’s still just pouring rain and it’s almost 9:00 p. m.

Would I come back to NICES? No, I’m too old. But it’s been a wonderful experience with nice kids and International Scouting.

3 August 2006

I’m in Den Bosch at the Den Otter. I’ve ordered a “Bosche Bol” the pastry to eat here according to the camp staff. I’ve come here to visit the museum, which is supposed to have a fair art collection (including van Gogh). So far the day is not rainy, but very hazy, cloudy, and moist. Yes, I’m sitting on the street terrace, taking advantage of these last opportunities for such.

Eindhoven

Den Bosch was very nice. In addition to the pastry, I ate a Hollands New Haring sandwich and some Kibbiling (my fish for the day—entire trip?). The Mart was today, I couldn’t resist.

The Noord Brabants Museum was very nicely done in an old Manor/Castle, but with no van Gogh! They are getting the paintings ready for an exhibit next year. I did see the original of Brueghel’s “Peasant Wedding” and many works by followers of Heronius Bosch (from here, of course). There was also a fun exhibit of Netherlands Spreekwords. Of course with (Bosch or Brueghel)’s painting as the focus. There were some cute dirty little symbols that I would never have noticed.

I’m now on the train. Here in Eindhoven I bought some souvenirs and walked through the centrum as far as the Groote Bergstraat.

Last night I really felt down and unappreciated. I hope tonight and tomorrow are just the opposite. I am tired, but it will be difficult to leave this reality behind.

I have been able to see / feel beauty today. Such days are truly windows of happiness.

I’ll be to Weert in time to get money and still be back before 17:00 Infodienst.

It’s true, tonight was nearly as pleasant as last night wasn’t. The Infokeet wasn’t busy, the company was good, and it was very much of what really has been the best of NICES.

Tomorrow I get to go to the open Air Museum at Nederweert Eind (Enderhof) – 3 crew members and one participant.

4 August 2006 – Nederweert

For such a tidy little village, this bus stop is absolutely filthy. In addition to the regular bus stop mess, this place has been smeared with pizza, and I’m not sure what all else.

I really have enjoyed the little “specimen gardens” in the front yards here. It’s much like my little garden north of the house with a variety of shrubs, flowering plants, and occasionally some ground cover. They’re generally in open well-kept soil, not done with anti-weed matting and rocks or bark. I have though seen some zeroscaping (s?). Lavender is popular over here too.

I’m on my way to Weert—just because I can, and because it may well be the last visit. Tonight we have the “Closing Ceremony” and then I’ll probably do some packing.

It looks like I may get to go to see Beverley and Frank Tidwell in Frankfurt after all. Margriet’s plan is to leave Tuesday after work and come back on Wednesday. That’s quite a sacrifice on their part (gas and time). And I really wouldn’t mind the train ride up the Rhine.

Weert

I’m now in Weert at the plein in front of the Groote Kerk (Martinus). I’m eating what may well be my last piece of real Limburgse Vlaai: Vanilla pudding, a cream layer, and topped with strawberries in Danish Dessert. The crust is about ¼” thick and really is like thin bread.

The bells just played and struck 11:00 a. m.; the sun is shining; I feel like I have to capture this very Dutch scene and moment. The only thing it needs is my family with me. I need to implant some of this gezelligheid in them—also Dutch tidiness—somehow!

Nederweert

I just got back from the Einderhof (Limburgse Open Air Museum): it was wonderful. Both the museum and the guiding through it were excellent. It was almost too much—3 hours worth.

I of course liked the garden; but the flax to cloth operation was new for me. Keeping sheep principally for their poop/fertilizer was also new—collecting it as they come in and go out of the kooi. He called “Indian Artichokes” “Aard Peere” and he said they were propagated before potatoes. Their saw mill / woodworking, basketry, and bakery were also exceptional.

A house lower on the back than on the front was explained as “trying to look rich to your neighbors.” I said something about that being a very Calvinist idea, but he didn’t comment, but he did vehemently talk about how the English, during WWII, had blown up all of the churches and molens to avoid lookout and sniping by the Germans. I guess for some time the Germans were on the east side of the Nordervaart and the English were on the Nederweert side. He said that the Germans took pride in sneaking over and stealing from the English.

4 August 2006 -- 22:00 p. m.

It’s ten p. m. and I’ve turned in for the night—a bit early perhaps, but I’m thinking about leaving this life and going back to that greater reality: first Utrecht and then back home. I’m always so ambivalent with goodby’s. Yes, I’m very much ready, and yet I hate to leave these people forever. They have been very kind and very human—very “Scouty.” I’ve liked that and will always treasure this aspect of this experience. Barriers have been my relative shyness, age difference, the church (culture), and of course the language. Though none of the above were insurmountable—just barriers.

I’ve enjoyed the region too. My bicycle ride out to De Groote Peel really was “transcendental”—that joy, peace, and spiritual interaction with natual beauty that goes well beyond just the physical senses. I also liked Weert: a good size, comfortable, close enough and friendly enough too. I would like to have really looked around in the St. Martin’s Church, but I did get to peek in today during a funeral.

I got comfortable with nederweert too—especially this part near camp. The only negative was that Florence Ice Cream Shop: service was lousy, the whole place seemed pretentious and way over-rated, but, the ice cream was excellent.

Now this pseudo-American thump, thump technoesque-European Pop music; I will gladly leave this behind!

“Aard Peren”

In a foreign tongue
He spoke of you,
Explained your culture,
Extolled your virtue;
Yet as the tourist,
As the only stranger,
I knew you best—
From my own garden—
I only forgot your name.

Such change in memory
Seems a part of age,
But Youth and Beauty,
Even Intelligentia
Remember:
It is a great gift of Age,
This honest Knowing,
That extends well
Beyond the Name.

5 August 2006
9:10 a. m.
my tent—Nederweert

5 August 2006 – Lopik, Utrecht, Netherlands

I slept well last night and was awake fairly early and disassembled the interior of my tent: rolled up the sleeping bag, folded up the sheets, rolled up the pad etc.

I went to breakfast at 8:30, but nobody was there but Willy, so I went back to my tent and wrote (the poem). When I was done, I checked on breakfast and Willy (de Haas from Helmond) was putting it out and eating, so Willi and I ate together and then for the next 2 + hours I picked up the trash around camp, and helped load the Austrian’s gear on the truck. Really, I had covered the whole camp except where the troops sites were located (some were still taking down camp). By then I had had enough and decided to wash my hands. As I was washing, Ruud and Margriet arrived. After some hasty goodbyes and loading my gear up; we left, and NICES was over.

Over, except for the stories (which I told most of the way to Utrecht), and the meeting of one of the scouts from camp at the gas station near Zaltbommel—I felt like I was at home to have the kid come up and say, “weren’t you just at camp.” (I still had my camp shirt on).

This afternoon I got a hair cut (from the neighbor lady) wrote home, put some poems on the Pathetic, and went bicycling with Margriet (toward Jaarsveld and then back along the Lek Dijk). It was extremely Dutch beautiful; riding high on the dike and looking south and west toward the open country and the somewhat cloudy sky. Wind was out of the North. It was fresh and green from the recent rains. It did remind me of a painting by Ruijsdaal—intense deeply felt beauty—yes, “transcendental.”

We’re fasting. I just read the scriptures for tomorrow’s Sunday School lesson. Now to bed, 23:00.

6 August 2006

I’m in Utrecht on the bus soon to leave for Lopik. I just walked the Oude Gracht from the South to the North, then east to the Dom Kerk and then west to the station, around a little bit through the Hoog Cathrijn, and then to the bus. I’ve always been turned around in Utrecht because the station is on the west, but felt north; that and the fact that Utrecht has usually been guided or visited in snippets. Tonight was the whole thing, ample time, and the need to do it myself—on purpose without signs. Tomorrow is a free day—perhaps to Almelo or some woods.

Margriet’s mother recognized both me and Ruud (a good day for her). Church was good. The hospital where Margriet works is HUGE! We got locked in and had to call a security man to let us out—all in a single Sunday. Just crossing the Amsterdam-Rijn Canal.

7 August 2006

I’m on a morning bus from Lopik to Utrecht. From there I’ll probably go to Mönchen Gladbach to do some German shopping. Ironically I’ll be going south again. Though I could also go to Duisburg which is further into Germany but also further north.

It’s a beautiful hazy Dutch morning, everything distant is softened, a chance of rain this afternoon.

I’m now on the train to Eindhoven—yes, I gave in to the pull of the South. I’ll go to Venlo and then cross the border there into Germany. The bus may be cheaper.

I really have gotten lazy with my Dutch. I change back and forth—but so do they.

We just passed the place where Margriet’s mother lives (in Houten). Now the Amsterdam-Rijn Canal.

“Green”

Before I make the trip back home,
The trip back to the West,
I’m soaking myself in Green:

Bathing my eyes
To the depths of my soul
And then my soul itself
In the rich moist color of life.

Before we send kids
Out on a hike, we say,
“Hydrate yourselves,
Drink lots of water.”

With Dutch Green
I would do the same;
Saturate myself
Right to the dun colored roots
Of my Utah heart.

7 August 2006
Written crossing the Betuwe near Den Bosch

Eindhoven

I’m now on the train to Venlo—a new direction for me, I believe. I don’t think I’ve ever traveled this line; first Helmond (Willy de Haas, our night watchman from camp lives here), and then Venlo which is really on the border with Germany.

These ticket machines have really changed Dutch train stations—fewer people there for help and information.

I’m on the train to Mönchen Gladbach. The train (according to a local) was both cheaper and faster than the bus. I’m not sure, however, if I have a one way or a retour ticket. I had to do the machine thing with coins—it only cost 4 Euro—sounds too cheap.

German trains are obviously not as well kept as Dutch ones—neither are their stations!

Venlo

I’m on the train at Venlo waiting to go to go to Eindhoven. It’s very muggy and quite cloudy, but light. Venlo is a pleasant tourist friendly little city. I’ve heard people speak Limburgs again and was tempted to eat one more piece of Limburgse Vlaai, but didn’t. I also didn’t buy Mendelson’s Elija, but wanted to.

I spent enough in Mönchen Gladbach. It took less than ½ hour to get there from Venlo. It really was quite new and large with excellent shopping. I bought more children’s videos and an Asterix, a children’s reader that will be fun for German class, and for Morgan a German soccer scarf and T shirt (on sale but nice). Next Eindhoven for one last visit, and then back to Utrecht.

Utrecht

I’m in Utrecht waiting for the bus to Lopik. After Venlo I did stop in Eindhoven and felt comfortable in its centrum. I ate a döner (3 Euro) and then spent another six for dessert—expensive but good. Now back to Ruud and Margriet’s. Amsterdam and van Gogh tomorrow.

8 August 2006 – Lopik

I’m on the bus on my way to Amsterdam: van Gogh Museum and Historical Museums. Jan and Audrey Roberts are coming tonight, so I need to be back in Lopik by 16:00—earlier to be safe. Tomorrow to Koblenz to see Beverly and Frank.

I can see the water tower to the west, the place we walked on my first night here. Last night coming home, it was so cloudy that I couldn’t see it—actually not even the top of the big communications tower in Ijsselstein.

We’re just now leaving Benscop. Now Ijsselstein at their drive through bus station. Ijsselstein has a molen and a very impressive church tower—yes, and the communications tower. Next is Nieuwegein and then Utrecht.

Amsterdam

I’m at a little lunch café not far from the central station. I’m hungry—I walked to the van Gogh Museum and back. Not a bad walk, and a good way to feel Amsterdam. Amsterdam is expensive—I knew it would be.

Van Gogh was line-up-crowded. I’m glad that my first time was more pleasant than today.

It’s nearly 2:00 p. m. I may not make it to the historical museum (I didn’t). I ought to get back to their house by about 17:00. Yes, it will be gezellig to visit with Jan and Audry Roberts, though I was never as close to them as Margriet feels that we all are—yes, it’s true that we all served in the mission (Margriet 2 week mission) at the same time.

I’m now leaving Amsterdam feeling somewhat empty. Not that my time at van Gogh wasn’t satisfying or that the city was any less dazzling and decadent—probably more so than ever. I know I’m more sensitive to this now. I think I’m just trip weary, and this change in weather makes me think of fall. I know it’s normal for Nederland to be cool, cloudy, and showery, but it’s such a change from the heat of two weeks ago. With my Utah senses, it seems almost early autumn.

Utrecht

I’m in Utrecht on the bus back to Lopik. I bought Drenthe / Nounen van Gogh picture postcards. In light of my time on the Peel, it was what attracted. I decided that Mark from camp looks like one of van Gogh’s “potato eaters.” At first, I thought he looked like a gargoyle (from the fountain at the church in Kleves), but no, I’m quite sure he’s descended from the “Aardapel Eters”--really! He also had that narrow rough farm mentality.

Dennis at camp was just plain too busy with school (finishing up a master’s degree at the university in Eindhoven) to be the real head (though he was treated as such) of the camp.

Baas did his job well, but I know he felt awkward bossing me. With me he was always somewhat shy—except in meetings when I spoke out about things that he didn’t feel needed to be brought up at that time. It was fun to see him bring the meeting back to order.

Frank was the natural leader, and though heavy, with its attendant hygiene issues, he never stopped. He always jumped right in, got done what needed to be done, and yet was thoughtful and very tactful if necessary. I was surprised when I found out Lobke was his “live-in,” though I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s because with all of his attention to detail and what needed to be done (or not done), I expected that this would carry into his private life. Though if you don’t see “live-in” as an improper detail of life, I suppose it wouldn’t bother you.

Toos, the older head cook was kind along with being effective in her kitchen duties. Though young and testy, I’d also describe Marike (the younger head cook) as much the same.

Bart, the ticket man, was very much a “computer-nerd-type.” His language was better than the others. I could always understand him.

Wendy, in charge of night programs, was a natural leader (Dennis’s little sister) and a talent, but didn’t plan, delegate and communicate information like she should have.

I’m sleepy.

10 August 2006

I’m spending my last day in Dordrecht: not far from Lopik, familiar, small, and beautifully Dutch. I just ate my last döner lunch. I’m on the Voorstraat surely not far from where we used to streetboard (though I don’t recognize the exact spot anymore).

Koblenz yesterday was wonderful. Beverly and Frank waited for us at the train station (not the plan at all) not at the fort, but we got together by noon, visited the fort, and had lunch together there (good food and not a bad price). Even the weather and drive to and from, were excellent.

I just visited the Dorts Museum and saw the original of the molen that hangs in Mom’s and Dad’s house (that I copied in watercolor).

Next dessert, then back to Utrecht and then bake to Lopik. I should have visited the woods in Wageningen when I had the chance. This will end up being a trip without a real European woods experience.

15:06

I didn’t get my “Marzapijne Mandje” but the location was the same, and it was still satisfying. I’m crossing the river now west toward Zwijndrecht on the way back to Rotterdam.

It’s been an expensive but extensive trip. I’ve seen and done much. (There are a number of tunnels now between Rotterdam Central and Dordrecht—that wasn’t the case 35 years ago). Camp now seems almost like a dream (three fat [frumpy too?] English men—actually two big boys and a man—just sat down across from me). As I got off the last train, the boy sitting across from me said, “it was a pleasure to meet you.” He must have seen me writing in English.

It’s still strange to me to have such an extensive Negro (Surinamer) presence here in the Netherlands.

I hate the graffiti! It feels “Gadianton Robber” to me.

I need to change my last Euro checks in Utrecht—practice money for German class, then try to buy a Dutch folk song CD. I’m now at Rotterdam Alexander Station.

Utrecht

Unfortunately there was no folk song CD—though I did find the record store easily, and my feeling of orientation in Utrecht is solid—that too is an accomplishment.

I was just thinking how nice this day has been. Again Dordt was close, familiar, beautiful, and offered so much “romantic” (nostalgic) walking, which I did a lot of: I guess both a familiarization and a saying goodbye at the same time, and always with the possibility that this could be the very last time. And this time with the reward of knowing that this was the 4th time in Nederland—the 5th time in Europe. And I admit, I enjoy the almost constant praise of my Dutch (not near what it used to be 35 years ago) and equally rewarding my ability to live and enjoy with comfort the Dutch way of life and culture. The ability to sideline German has been a wonderful addition. And when Dutch people think I’m German, I can usually just answer in German and switch back with them into Dutch. Yes, there’s reward there (and surely ego), maybe appropriate for a teacher of languages and history.

11 August 2006 – Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam, Netherlands

We left Lopik at 8:30 a.m., were to Schiphol by 9: 45, and I was through check-in by 10: 15. I didn’t have to pass through near the security that I did in Salt Lake city. There was an obvious presence of national security police (armed with rifles), but even in light of yesterday’s events in England (the liquid bomb threat), so far things have felt quite normal—not even the questions like last time. Maybe that will come later. Customs will be in Cincinnati before I get on the plane to Salt Lake.

It’s raining very heavily again—just the opposite of the weather when I arrived; yes, and Ruud said it’s twenty degrees cooler too—a welcome relief.

You can often reliably recognize Europeans (men anyway) by their ugly square-toed long shoes (they remind me of cross country ski boot toes).

I just finished off my last half-liter of Albert Heijn “Sinas,” not my favorite but ok.

There’s a nice looking American young couple eating in front of me (yes, I’m in McDonalds—no other choice here). It reminds me that Hank Rogers and his wife are sending off three of their sons to Iraq today. Ruud and Margriet see it as a huge wasteful tragedy. I said, “how sad; what a sacrifice, but what good boys.” I need to shape up my own life for these “last days.”

It’s pouring rain again. I’ve got 20 minutes until I need to be at the gate. I just bought a sugar bowl and some jewelry for Jan. I get irritated sometimes when we don’t use a sugar bowl and our house, and this will be a good everyday souvenir of Nederland. It’s cheap Delft blue.

I dread the picking up of the old pace and the burdens—that “down of return.” I also dread finding out what Cathy did to the car and garage ($$).

2:10 p. m. Schiphol, NL

We’ve been delayed now for more than an hour. The captain said it had to do with a family that wanted to sit together and were unable to communicate well. They and their luggage are now off, and we’re waiting now to update our flight plan.

The sun is out; the sky is broken cloudy. I’ve been dozing for the last hour, and I’m now starting to feel a bit restless—probably impatient if the truth is spoken. I hope we arrive on time for connections in Cincinnati (a worry the entire trip over the Atlantic).

We did have to do the questions “security thing” just before boarding at Schiphol. It was also there that they Xrayed our hand luggage. Again, it was not near as technical or stringent as in Salt Lake City. Finally, we’re moving!

The girl next to me is from Croatia, but has moved to the U.S. and will be attending school in Indiana working on her master’s degree.

Yes, that’s another burden I pick up at home—what to do next (after 3 more years of teaching).

7:50 p. m. Dutch Time

It’s strange how this jet time is like a veil between two worlds. You enter in this strange state of encapsulated reality and then come out on the other side back home with all of its comforts, connections, and of course its complications. And I will ask myself tonight, “was it really just this morning that I was in Lopik, that I rode through the flat green wet polders through the driving rain. Was I really in Dordrecht yesterday, and with Beverly and Frank in Kolenz just the day before. Reality becomes the strangest dream.

9: 50 p. m. Dutch Time

I was just mentally listing all the places I visited, and thought maybe I could write them down—again informally:

Amersfoort
Brugge
Bennekom & Wageningen
Dordrecht
Cleves
Schoohnoven
Kinderdijk
Nederweert
Zeeland & The Delta Works
Den Bosch
Veere
Weert
Terneuxen
Eindhoven
Sluis & region
De Groote Peel Natl. Park
Maastricht
Valkenburg
Heerlen
Utrecht
Venlo
Amsterdam
Lopik
Nieuwegein & region
Oudewater & region
Rotterdam
Koblenz
Mönchen Gladbach

Important drive-through’s:

Arnhem
Damm
Sittard
Roermond
Ghent
Saas van Ghent
Middleburg
Nijmegen
Gouda

I’ve no doubt forgotten somewhere, but this certainly gives an idea of the area I’ve covered in the last four weeks.

11:00 p. m. Dutch Time
5:00 p. m. Cincinnati Time --Arrival in the U. S.

I’m on the plane to S. L. C. A bit late, but Customs and Security in Cincinnati was very much hastened for our benefit. Most of us on flight 45 had some connection to somewhere else.

I’m already feeling melted into the main stream and a bit burdened (spiritually?) by the transparency of everything here. It’s hot and humid and they just said that it’s 90 degrees in Salt Lake City.

Am I happy to be back in the U. S. A.? I don’t know.

4: 10 a. m. Dutcht Time
8: 10 p. m. Salt Lake City Time
11: 00 p. m. M.D.T. home in Beaver Dam

13 August 2006 – Camp Loll

I’m at Loll. I left after church and was here by 5:00 p. m. for dinner. I’ve felt a little gloomy since my return from Nederland: it’s that build up of unsolved problems—that sinking back into the real world—and church wasn’t much of a “pick-me-up” in that regard either, but as I drove up the paved road there near where the old Squirrel Lutheran Church stood, surrounded by ripe barley fields, the Tetons in the distance, the bright blue Idaho sky, the distant fringe of green forest; I had to stop and “make my barbaric yawp!” It was another one of those intense interactions with nature that surpasses words. And I felt so truly happy to be back HOME.

I’m sleeping in the old office cabin—my office as director of Camp Loll in 1994—already so many years ago. I’ve been peeing about 3 times a night since I got home, and somehow Conner’s loft just had no appeal (I only peed once that night—back to normal).

Things look good here; we should get out early (though we didn’t) We’re dropping off the trailers at Nolan Heward’s place for winter storage—much easier than Kenny and Lois’s place west of Rigby.

Enough—I’m sleepy.

I am currently Reflective
I am listening to crickets in the yard