We left Denmark on Monday, heading into the final days of travel and heading towards home. We had a long day of driving over flat country on highways, which always seems a little less interesting. We arrived at our hotel in Bremen, Germany late enough that we didn’t try to see the town. Instead, we had dinner in the hotel restaurant, which served German food. Ordering from the “For Smaller Appetites” menu, we got more food than we could possibly eat, especially since we started with bowls of soup -- tomato and asparagus for me, cream of leek with shrimp for Deane. Deane had an hopelessly gigantic omelet -- even he couldn’t finish it, and I had Bremen “Haggis.” I thought it might be tripe, but honestly, I don’t know what it was, except that it was delicious and so rich that I could only eat about a third of it. The waiter said, “Pork meat and onions,“ the two parts of the complex taste he had English words for. It was a very good meal, and a taste of typical, hearty, traditional cuisine.
Tuesday, we headed for Amsterdam. On our way, we stopped to see the hunebedden, ancient burial sites, probably, scattered across Holland and Germany. The largest is in Borger, Holland, where there is also a little museum that helped us understand what we were seeing.
Since parking in Amsterdam is at least expensive and at worst impossible, we stayed in Zandvoort, on the ocean, where we could take the train into Amsterdam. The beach was beautiful, the air chilly. The breakfast buffet started off with a bang. We didn’t indulge.
Wednesday morning, we hopped on the train and 25 minutes later were right in the heart of Amsterdam. Deane wanted to see the Beijinhof, a convent of sorts for single Catholic women called Beguines who were not nuns, and took no vows. Instead, they simply devoted their time, in ways of their own choosing, to helping the sick and poor, starting back in the 14th century. When the Protestants took power in the Netherlands, the Catholic mass was prohibited and went underground, but the women were not bothered as they were well known for their good works. There was a miracle involving a communion wafer untouched by fire, and when religious tolerance was established, there was a chapel built. We visited the chapel and saw the houses and their peaceful courtyard, but were asked not to take photographs, so I only have one of the outside of the site.
We walked to the Ann Frank house, once a warehouse, now a museum, and went through the secret rooms where her family remained in hiding for several years, never leaving, never making a sound during the day, receiving food from a few trusted friends. They were betrayed by someone unknown and sent to Westerbork, a transit camp, and from there to Auschwitz. Ann’s sister died of typhus, her mother of starvation, and just a month before Auschwitz was liberated, Ann died of typhus as well. Her father survived the war. After the family’s arrest, Ann’s writings were found and saved by one of the women who had helped the family. Her father put together Ann's story in her own words from the many journals she kept and soon was able to publish her story. The museum was crowded as the passages are narrow and the rooms small, but it was very affecting. As Otto Frank requested, there was no furniture in the rooms, as the furniture had all been confiscated by the Nazis, but otherwise everything was essentially as it had been during the years they were hidden. This was a very personal view of the Holocaust, very moving, very sad.
We then walked to the “Old Church,” but the main door led to an expensive photography exhibit, so I suggested we walk around to see if there was another door, and we found ourselves in the red light district. Women were in street level rooms with huge windows, scantily clad and ready for business. It was an odd thing to see, and odder still to see that it didn’t particularly feel tawdry or smutty. Earlier, we had wandered into a fun-looking gift shop and found that it also sold marijuana in various forms, the different strains described like fine wines. You could purchase weed, or seeds for home cultivation, along with other paraphernalia and gifts appropriate for children. So we got a glimpse of the extremely open and tolerant atmosphere of Amsterdam. I really liked it -- the openness took away the lure of the forbidden, and let prostitution and drug use become options in a society where most people, from what we could see, choose a pretty wholesome lifestyle and are basically happy. Of course, we saw all this during the day -- it might be a different scene by night!
Two other striking things about Holland: First, there‘s water everywhere, and you can see how little it would take for entire cities to be flooded, but somehow they have not been for hundreds of years; and second, because it is very flat, people ride bikes everywhere. We saw many more bikes than cars, and people of all ages from toddlers to elderly riding them. Every road has a bike path associated with it, and bikes seem to have the right of way over cars. It was wonderful to see.
Wednesday, on our way to Belgium, we drove through the area where many of the flower bulbs Holland is so famous for are cultivated. The tulips and daffodils had gone by except for a few stragglers, but even so it was amazing to see the scope and realize that “Holland bulbs” I’ve purchased came right from this area. We stopped in Delft for lunch, where there was a bustling Friday market. Our lunch came from this fish stand, with fresh fried fish pieces and shrimp with tartar sauce--delicious!
Deane’s last “official” pilgrimage site was in Bruges, where the Holy Blood Basilica houses a cloth that was supposed to have been used by Joseph of Arimathea to wipe blood and water from Jesus’ body after his crucifixion. This was one of many relics brought back from the Crusades. We found the basilica tucked in a corner of a picturesque square, with a sign saying that “veneration of the relic” would take place between 2pm and 4pm. Just before 2, the doors opened, and we went in and sat down as directed. Two women came from the sacristy, one robed as a priest, one not. The “not robed” woman carried a briefcase up to a raised platform with a table and chair. The robed woman sat in the chair and, when the briefcase was opened, took out a glass cylinder capped in gold holding the relic. She placed it on a stand on the table, and invited people to come up and offer a personal prayer while touching the relic. So we got in line, and each had a time to touch the cylinder and pray. It was unexpectedly moving for me, whether or not the cloth is what is claimed (the container dates to the 12th century; the relic has never been dated).
We also visited the Church of Our Lady, where there is one of the few Michelangelo statues outside of Italy, a Madonna and Child.
We walked around Bruges’ Old City for several hours. It’s a great place to be a tourist -- every corner you turn brings a view of a new set of medieval buildings. We visited lots of chocolate shops, ate a Belgian waffles and fries with mayonnaise, and at the fish market found seafood salads to take back to the hotel for dinner. We also splurged a little on a boat ride through the canals for a different view.
Saturday was a long day of driving to our hotel near the Charles de Gaulle Airport outside Paris. We took the long slow way, driving along the coast past Dunkirk and Calais. We were surprised at how many bunkers were still left from the German occupation. When we reached Calais, we could see England’s coast with the white cliffs mirroring the white cliffs we stood on.
Our trusty GPS, Dora, lost the ability to charge her battery somewhere along the way, but she held out until we found our hotel, which we especially appreciated in France, a country firmly committed to roundabouts and to using road numbers as infrequently as possible. I knew we had come full circle when our hotel was on a road where we had gotten lost our first day, trying to figure out how to use the GPS.
We spent part of the morning today, Sunday, trying to figure out how to cram everything we’ve been accumulating in the car into our two backpacks. Then we went into Paris for a few hours. Deane wanted to see Notre Dame Cathedral again. I didn’t remember much from our first visit except the lines and the crowds inside. We stood in line again and it was crowded, but there was a Mass, the organ was filling that beautiful space with sound, and there were amazing voices singing the liturgy.
We had dinner before we left town, moules marinieres and rabbit with mustard sauce for me, crepes with ham and cheese and cod for Deane.
It was a lovely way to end our trip, and we were a bit wistful as we took the train back to our hotel. Tomorrow, we’ll return the car and board our flight back. When we arrive in Albany, the first familiar face we’ll see will be Nancy Corliss coming to pick us up (Thanks, Nancy!). We’re looking forward to seeing many more familiar faces in the weeks ahead -- the trip has been wonderful, but it will be wonderful to be back home, too!