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Dutch Treat Tree crap covered our fly. The plastic over our bikes looked like it had been in a feces storm. Even my water bottles had muck on them. Rain fell from tree leaves when the wind shook the branches or I accidentally brushed a trunk. Folks walking dogs saw us as we packed up in the middle of a thicket. Probably the dogs noticed us first. Surprisingly, none of them barked. And all were on a leash. We took a ferry across the four hundred meter canal to Beverwijk where Annette's relatives lived. I stopped at a bike shop and asked for directions. The woman was surprised she knew where the particular street I asked for was. Shortly, Sharon and I arrived where they lived. Through the large windows facing the street we could see what appeared to be an old age home complete with doctors and nurses. Somewhat surprised I said: "I knew they were retired." "Yeah," Sharon responded. "But there's a big difference between being retired and being farmed out." I went in and asked. I was told the entrance for the apartments was next door. Approaching the apartment door an old fellow asked me what we wanted. "The Schrik's," I told him. He buzzed them, "There are some Canadians down here to see you." We had never met Annette's aunt and uncle before. When he showed up, I said "Annette," and that must have been the correct code word because he invited us in. Girard made coffee and tried to converse in the little English he knew -- mainly picked up from watching American soap operas on television. Girard's wife, Tiny, was out shopping for new furniture. Girard showed us a spare bedroom and said we could sleep there. "Is that going to be okay with the Big Boss or is she going to boot us out?" I asked. Girard laughed and said "No problem." We moved the bikes to where we could see them from the second floor window. Girard gave us a tour of the building showing us the Rotonde room with cafeteria (tea 25¢) where they played cards with the other twenty-nine apartment owners. "We're like one big family here," he grinned. Tiny returned home and phoned her youngest daughter Paula. Paula spoke English and came over to translate. She worked in a shoe store and her husband Rick worked with computers. We asked her some questions. She told us $2000 a month was an average job; $2500 a good job; $3000 a very good job. Their house cost $140000. It was small but was located right downtown. It was cheaper to buy five kilometers from town but everyone wanted to live in town so they were close to everything. She walked to work in two minutes. When Tiny and Girard had visited Annette's parents in Edmonton they couldn't believe how much Canadians drove. They told us that one night after supper Annette's mom said: "We're going to Annette and Loran's to work in the garden for a while." "Okay," Tiny said, "we thought maybe it was five minutes away." An hour later they arrived. "That's half way to Germany!" she exclaimed. "Then we pulled a few weeds and drove back home. We couldn't believe it." Tiny and Girard's middle daughter, Dinika, came by after school was out with her two children Laura and Niels. Laura was getting a new tennis racquet for her birthday. Niels played soccer. They had been to Florida to see Disney World and rated it first class. They were going to Euro Disney for a weekend soon but couldn't wait to go back to the real one in Florida. Dinika's husband owned a flower shop. He got up at five every morning and drove to Aalsmeer's flower auction, near Amsterdam. It was the largest in the world: over ten thousand people worked there. The flower business was good in the Netherlands, but it required working a rigorous six days a week. Dinika helped on Fridays when it was busiest. People of all ages bought flowers regularly -- not just on Valentine's Day or Mother's Day. And they bought flowers for themselves too. "The Dutch spend so much time in their houses they like to have beautiful flowers around," Dinika said. "It's expensive to eat out -- we only go out on special occasions. But flowers are not so expensive." Girard peeled a humongous pot of potatoes. "Who's coming for supper?" I wanted to know. We had kip (chicken) and applesauce. I talked too much and ate too slow, but managed to finish in time for maple walnut and chocolate chip ice cream with avocado liqueur. The market was on downtown so after coffee we piled into Tiny and Girard's small red Honda. In less than five minutes we were there. It took longer to find a parking spot. We walked to Rick and Paula's. They weren't home but Tiny had a key and showed us their place. We walked around the market. There was everything from clothes to food. I try oliebollen -- a deep fried fritter covered with sugar. The Dutch usually ate them only at New Years. We came across a pofferties stand -- mini puffy pancakes with icing sugar made in a special pan that looked like muffin tins with rounded bottoms. After checking out the market we drove to Dinika's. She lived about two minutes from her mom and dad's. Laura went to the school a block away. A grocery store was on the corner. Everything they needed was close by. That was something the Dutch valued, because parking was at such a premium. Their house was immense by Holland's standards. They must sell a lot of flowers. Dinika's husband assured us his flower business was just a hobby. The house was three stories high. On the top floor was a sun tanning room. (I hadn't been able to figure out why they were all so tanned) and a room for the washer and dryer. "Most people have a dryer if they have room," Dinika said. In the back yard there was a building that housed a pocketless pool table. On the table were two white balls (one with a black dot), and a third ball that was red. One of the white balls was yours. You hit your white ball onto your opponent's white ball. If successful, you tried to hit the red ball. If you did you got a point and shot at your opponent's white ball again. |
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