Day 259 - Checking out the Nether regions

In 1946, shortly after the end of World War II, a young boy was born to a large Catholic family in the Dutch town of Nijmegen, not more than 30 kilometres from the German border. He was, by all accounts, a strong and willful child and it came as little surprise when, at the tender age of 22, he left home to make his way in the world. He took a job as a chef - the cooking tradition ran deep in this family - on board a cruise liner in the Holland-America Lines company.

He traveled the world for sometime, no doubt enjoying the pleasures of each port of call in between his long hours. One fine day, his boat docked in Sydney. Who knows what forces were at play that day, but the man decided to end his tenure and instead make his home in the Great Southern Land.

Years passed and the man married. He made a home, first in Bexley then in Illawong, and brought up two fine children; a boy and a girl.

One night, his daughter was out with friends for the night and met a boy. They liked each other and eventually married. Then, one day nine years later, they too replicated the footsteps of the man and made their choice to see the world.

That in a nutshell, is how Rachel and I ended up in a car, traveling around the worlds´ lowest country.


We set out from the ´Dam one cold frosty Monday morning. NYE was still ringing in our heads. We'd lingered in the capital for a few days further, mostly to spend some time with Rachel's family and pass a throughly enjoyable evening with Taz and Nic, as they passed through the city en route to Austria.

However, we were both determined not to fall into the trap of hanging in the capital. Most tourists rarely get out of Amsterdam, if they even manage to make it out of the red light district. However, if they did, here is what they would find out.

The Netherlands is very small. If you really wanted to, I´m guessing you could get around it in a day. We chose to take a more leisurely pace. Our week-long journey consisted of a loop, heading north out of Amsterdam via Groningen, Appeldoorn, Arnhem, Nijmegen (of course!), Maastricht, a strictly non-Dutch dinner-date in Bruges (to mark B off the alphabet dating list), then back to the ´Dam via Utrecht.

The Dutch seem fiercely proud of their country and of their history. Throughout the countryside is a definite air of preservation. Like Amsterdam, most cities seem to have developed over time with a deliberate focus on retaining their medieval nature. History seems somehow more important here than in, say, London for example, where ancient gothic cathedrals often share a street with hideous 70s shoe box towers.

It's also fairly easy to see why the Netherlands is the most densely populated country on earth, a fact that used to seem preposterous every time I heard it. As the kilometres ticked by on the open road, I was aware that the moment one small town would disappear, another would appear over the horizon in no time at all.

And what small towns there are. Picturesque little clusters of neatly-arranged, identikit homes arranged around logical town squares, with the odd antique windmill thrown in for good measure.

Logical is a good word for it. The Netherlands seems so logical. It's logical for it to be neat and tidy, so it is. It's logical for there to be good public transport, so there is. Hell, it's logical to allow people to buy whatever they want wherever they want, so they can.

Then again, logic disappears when confronted with Dutch roads. Road signage suddenly disappearing never to be seen again, cocky bikes who can do no wrong in the eyes of the law coming at you from all sides and parking costs that would make your accountant blush. Did I mention that, outside of Amsterdam, the Netherlands is not a place for tourists?

However, there are some superb places, which funnily enough I think I enjoyed all the more because of the snowy embrace they were locked in. Volendam, barely north of Amsterdam, is an amazing little fishing village, where we got to walk across a frozen bay (think Sydney Harbour-sized and frozen) to watch ice sailors speed on past. Sleen, a tiny little village that looks like it fell straight out of It's a Wonderful Life. Arnhem and it's 1000+ shoe shops. The old square in Nijmegen with pubs that look like they've been pulled forward in time from the 1500s. The living museums that are Maastricht and Bruges (yes, I know it's in Belgium. However, according to many Belgians that may be simply a matter of time). The same goes for The Netherlands' largest student town, Utrecht.

However, special mention must be saved for last. When Rachel said she wanted to take me to a Dutch amusement park, based around the theme of fairy tales, in the middle of deep winter, I was naturally a little dubious. I am so glad I went.

The Efteling, for me, sums up what it is about the Netherlands that makes it so unique. In a world of Disneyland, consumerism, the sexualisation of children, Bratz, Lindsey & Britney, Fast Food and Playstation, it is incredible this place still exists. This is not a theme park of giant rollercoasters (though there are some), adrenaline thrills and buy, buy, BUY merchandising. Instead, it's a place of f grottos and round-the-world anamatorics that look like they stepped out of Willy Wonka's factory. An ice skating rink. Cross country ski course. A fairy tale land made of toadstool houses and quaint little thatched homes. A full-sized Persian Palace straight out of Aladin. All covered in that magical white dust we call snow.

The Efteling is a place of imagination. Everyone should take their kids there and watch their eyes pop out of their heads. Even better, lend them to me and I'll take them.


All the photos Rachel took of her favourite Nether regions are here. Ooo missus.