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May 18 Thursday 15º C sunny breaks Bicycle touring Holland Tree crap covered our tent fly in the morning, blown down by the wind and rain. The plastic sheet over our touring bikes looked like it was in a shit storm. Even my water bottle lids had muck on them. The rain hammered down throughout the night. Raindrops still fell from tree leaves this morning when the wind shook the branches or when I accidentally brushed against a tree trunk. People were out walking their dogs early this morning. At least two saw us as we packed up our cycling gear in the middle of a thicket. It was probably the dogs that actually smelled us first and then the owner looked to see what was up. None of the dogs barked though and they were all on a leash. Just behind us is a large apartment building. We are on the outskirts of Haarlem. We have to take a ferry across a 400-metre canal to Beverwijk where Annette's relatives live. I stop at a bike shop and ask for directions to their street. The woman at the bike shop is surprised that she knows where the particular street is. She gives us good directions and we arrive in short order at the building where they live. Through large windows that face the street we can see what looks like an old age home with doctors and nurses running around. "I knew they were retired," I say. "Yeah," Sharon responded, "but there's a big difference between being retired and being farmed out." I leave Sharon with our touring bicycle and go in. I ask at a desk and I'm told the entrance for the apartments is the next door over. I head over there. An old guy outside the building asks me what we want. The Schrik's, I say. He buzzes them on the intercom. "There are some Canadians down here to see you," he says. Turning to us, he tells us he is coming down. We have never met them before. They visited Canada last summer, but we had already left on our bicycle touring trip across Canada. A gentleman stands before us. We say "Annette" and he invites us in (must be the secret code word for today). He makes coffee while we try to converse in the little English he knows. Gerard's wife is shopping for new furniture and she isn't home. He shows us a spare bedroom and says we can sleep there. We ask if that's going to be okay with the big boss or will she boot us out? "No problem," he says. I hope it is less problem than the "no problem" answer we received one time while bicycle touring Sardinia in The Lead Goat Veered Off. We move our fully loaded touring bicycles to where we can see them from their second floor window. He shows me the apartment's Rotonde Room with cafeteria (tea 25¢) where they play cards with the other 29 apartment owners. "We're like one big family here," he says. Tiny get home and immediately phones their youngest daughter, Paula, 25, who is on a day off from her work at a shoe store. Paula speaks English and comes over to translate. Her husband Rick works with computers. They will be married five years in February. Paula tells us that 2000 guilders a month is an average job; 2500 guilders a month a good job; 3000 guilders a month a very good job. Their house cost 140,000 guilders. It is fairly small, she says, but it is located right downtown. She says it is cheaper five kilometres from town, but everyone wants to live in town to be close to everything. She can walk to work or shopping in two minutes. Tiny and Gerard visited Annette's parents in Edmonton last summer. They couldn't believe how much people drive in Canada and don't think anything of it. One night, after supper, Annette's mom said they were going to Annette and Loran's in Busby to work in the garden for a while. Okay, they thought, maybe it's five minutes away. An hour later they got there. They got out of the vehicle, pulled a few weeds and then drove back to Edmonton. That is halfway to Germany from where they live in Holland which is about as far from Germany as possible in Holland. We moved our touring bikes inside to two storage rooms downstairs. Mine fit in their storage room; Sharon took her bike down the hall to the old gent's storage room who had met us at the front door. We took our required bicycle panniers upstairs. Clothes and books and food bag. Their middle daughter, Dinika, 38, came by after school with her two children: Laura, turning 13 next week, and Niels, 8. Laura is getting a new tennis racquet for her birthday. Niels plays soccer, or football, as they call it here. The stores are open late one night per week in Holland and tonight is the night for Beverwijk until 9 PM, so they are going to buy Laura's present. Dinika's husband owns a flower shop. He gets up at 5 AM to drive to another town near Amsterdam, about a half hour drive, to the daily flower auction -- the largest in the world, 18,000 people work there. They have been to Florida to see Disney World and rate it first class. They are going to Euro Disney for a weekend soon, but can't wait to go back to the "real one" in Florida. The flower business is good in Holland, but lots of work six days a week. Dinika helps out at the flower shop on Fridays when it is busiest. People of all ages buy flowers in Holland regularly -- not just on special Valentine's Day or Mother's Day, but for themselves, everyday. People in Holland spend so much time in their houses they like to have beautiful flowers around. It is so expensive to eat out they only go out on special occasions, but flowers are not so expensive in Holland. Gerard peels a huge pot of potatoes. I ask who's coming for supper. But it's all just for us. I guess he's heard about cycle tourists' appetites. We have kip (chicken) and applesauce. I talk too much and eat too slow, so I miss out on the applesauce. I make up for it at dessert though. We have Maple walnut and chocolate chip ice cream. A liqueur of avocado cream is poured over the top. The market is on downtown. After coffee we pile into their small red Honda. In less than five minutes we are there. It takes longer to find a parking spot than to drive there. Seriously. After scoping out the market, we walk over to Rick and Paula's. They are not home, but Tiny has a key and shows us in. They plan to install a bay window off the back. It will brighten up that room a lot more and Paula will be able to have more plants. We walk back to the market and tour around some more. There is everything at the market from clothes to food. I try an oliebol. It is like a deep-fried fritter with sugar. Usually they only eat them for New Year's Tiny tells us. Happy New Year! Later, we came across a pofferties stand. Pofferties are like mini puffy pancakes coated with icing sugar. Fantastic. They make them in a special pan that looks like muffin tins, but are rounded at the bottom. We drive to Dinika's. She lives about two minutes from their apartment. Laura goes to a school a block away. A grocery store is on the corner. They are close to all the essentials. Their house is immense by Dutch standards. They must sell a lot of flowers. It is three stories high. On the top floor is a tanning room. (Sharon and I couldn't figure out before why they all looked so tanned -- must spend a lot of time outdoors we thought.) There is even a separate room for a washer and dryer. Most people in Holland have a dryer, if they have room, we are told. Out back is a games' room with ping pong table set over a billiard's table with no pockets. As we left their palatial abode, Dinika's husband assured us his flower business was just a hobby. |
