May, 2009. Windmills and wooden shoes. That’s what pops into my mind when I hear somebody refer to the Dutch, shamefully reinforcing the scant knowledge I possess about most places and people on our planet. But once again the allure of travel invites me to appreciate the diversity of our globe and get in touch with the Dutch.
The motivation for this trip is very cool – a birthday present to my wife (well, the plane fare anyway), whose maiden name is Fylstra. Kim’s ancestors hailed from the village of Sneek (pronounced ‘snake’) in the Netherlands province of Friesland. The first lesson offered by the proposition was that the Netherlands consists of twelve provinces – two of which are North and South Holland. Pretty sure I never distinguished between Holland and the Netherlands before, so travel enlightens me to appreciate that Holland is not a distinct country, but a subset of the Netherlands.
Initial investigation of the Dutch validates that this country is very liberal, though I doubt we will partake of offerings at a ‘coffee shop’ since I have scant confidence my claim that it was “legal at the time” would insulate me from random drug tests where I am employed. Researching the Netherlands would also prompt me to dwell seriously on WWII. Only in the past few years have I recognized the extent of agony inflicted by my ancestors (loosely, Western Europeans) on other cultures. The sad testament is how pervasive this calamity proves – no matter where you go it seems my predecessors wrought death and destruction and it is shallow comfort that the travesties of WWII were largely self-inflicted.
I never read Anne Frank’s Diary: it remained on the “to do” list with a bazillion other books I want to read some day. But a visit to Amsterdam, where Anne’s story unfolded, prompted me to finally digest this brilliant and tragic work (and I am happy to share that I passed it on to my daughter at her request after she noticed me reading it). My surprise was how little it really dwelled on the terrors inflicted upon Jews during the Holocaust. Though I always perceived the import of this book was detailing that suffering, it really is about a young woman growing up. But Anne’s story was ended by the Holocaust and the truly sobering realization was that Anne Frank could be an eighty-year old grandmother today, in 2009, had her life not been ended by incomprehensible hatred. Recognizing how recent this horror was forces one to ponder whether or not we can really consider ourselves civilized.
If more folks had travel as their muse, interacting with other cultures would help dismiss the ignorance which breeds these travesties. Remaining isolated and insulated makes one wary and mistrustful. Ignorance isn’t bliss, ignorance is miss: missing out on an appreciation of how similar we are despite the fascinating diversity of our planet.
Though my opportunity to get out and explore this diversity is sorely limited, I strive to intermingle with other folks around the globe through the internet. A facet of the Netherlands trip will be to personally meet a Dutch friend I have been corresponding with for several years now. Rudolph lives in Den Haag (The Hague) and has been an invaluable resource, tirelessly answering our myriad questions. After sharing that we wanted to take the train to Friesland, Rudolph alerted us to the availability of ‘Spring Tour’ tickets, which permit you to ride unlimited distances in first class and even purchased a pair on our behalf before they were all gone! Better yet, Rudolph is taking a day off from work to give us a personal tour of his home town.
Kim and I are very excited.
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