Sylvia's Journal

It is summer in Holland; a premature summer that dresses people in shorts, tanktops and flipflops. Who cares that is still early May. The tulips have accelerated their blooms and some people who travelled long distances to come to the famous Keukenhof tulip park will be disappointed in missing these blooms if they don’t get there soon. We made the trip yesterday; Axel for the second time in 2 weeks. The tulips in the shaded areas were still in the prime of their bloom and the park has been expanded with many other varieties of flowers, among them a lily pavillion with more lillies than you could throw a stick at in enormous vases in a thousand shades of red, yellow and white.

We bought fresh asparagus, just picked from a field next to the small store. They are white and fleshy and taste nothing like the thin green ones we know. We served them, traditional style, with eggs, collected that day from under Sietke’s own chicken, ham (not from her pigs) and new potatoes; for a final touch, melted butter, also from the farm, was dribbled over everything. Dinner was preceded by cocktails: raw herring and white beer and ended hours later at dusk, which starts here about 10 PM.

Loaded with heavy suitcases and bags full of licorice and other Dutch delicacies that have to make the trip back with us tomorrow, we dropped off the car at our friends house in Hilversum and then took the train via Utrecht to Tilburg. This was no small feat because we were carrying what feels like 100s of pounds and no elevators or escalators, only stairs, everywhere. We have come a long way since July 2007.

My nephew Pieter, last seen swimming in the fridgid waters of Lobster Cove in the middle of March picked us, and our heavy luggage, up and drove us to his dad’s home, my baby brother Reinout, where the preparation for his 50th birthday party were in full swing.

Reinout had organized an outing for the early arrivals to visit the local modern art museum. It reminded us of MassMoca. It is built in an old textile factory. I learned today that the not so nice name for people from Tilburg is crockpissers (kruikenzeikers). Reinout explained that, in the olden days, the woolfactory workers had to bring their pispots to the factory because the urine was used in the processing of the wool. It gives a whole new meaning to human resources.

When we came back a giant inflatable Abraham decorated the yard. In Holland, when you turn fifty, you ‘see’ Abraham (women ‘see’ Sarah). It has something to do with longevity.