Sea Dogs Part I

Northern Holland is surprisingly different from Southern Holland. A huge majority of the population resides in the Southwest of the country. I imagine this population density contributes to the overall lack of courtesy I have experienced in Den Haag and elsewhere in the Randstad (the name for Holland's most densely populated area including Amsterdam, the Hague, and Rotterdam). The Northern Dutch are friendly and helpful. We ended up on the wrong train at one point because Dutch trains have this peculiar habit of occasionally splitting and going in different directions. The front half of the train will go to one city while the back half travels to a completely different destination. We did not know this. Chris, Jon, and I ended up in Groningen when we should have been in Leuwardden (or something like that). When the friendly Dutch lady in front of me caught wind of our mistake she slapped my knee and apologized as if it were her fault. It wasn't a simple, "sorry about that." She felt guilty about leaving me to brave Northern Holland by myself. "I should have told you", she said.

"No ma'am, you couldn't have known."

"Oh, but I should have asked to where you were traveling."

"It's ok, really, we'll just take the train to Leuwardden."

"Oh, I feel so bad."

Her reaction was refreshing, especially since, when I first sat down, she took about ten minutes to move her feet from my personal space. European trains (and maybe American trains I just haven't seen one like this) often have a group of four or more seats that face one another. I chalked her initial lack of consideration up to typical Dutch behavior; but in hindsight I think she was just completely engrossed in her book and didn't notice me.

The Frisian Island of, Ameland, is only accessible by ferry. The weather was nearly ideal although the wind blew pretty hard all weekend. Our first order of business was to rent bikes and then find a place to sleep for the night. The tourist office gave us some suggestions and we set about finding them. Ameland consists of three (maybe four) little villages. They aren't even towns. We found a bed and breakfast in Buren for 22 Euro per person per night. You would pay this for just about any hostel in Europe but you wouldn't receive a fraction of the amenities anywhere else. Our home for the night was the everyday home of, Bernadette Metz. Bernadette was like some sort of benevolent apparition who gave us a clean sheets, a spotless bathroom, and a typical Dutch breakfast in the morning then disappeared to her room or the mainland or wherever it is that she goes when she's not smiling and serving us food. It was one of my favorite European lodging experiences.

There is not much to do on Ameland which is exactly why we chose it. The small villages are bordered by farmland and natural dunes. We explored the island for two days, stopping only to eat, sleep, or look around on foot. After a lackluster dinner the first night we walked into the pub across the street from Frau Metz's. Our entrance was like the scene in Animal House where a bunch of white fraternity guys walk into a black bar, the music stops, and everyone stares at them. I'm sure I've told you this but the Dutch stare. They do it all the time. You just get used to it after a while. There's a difference between a Dutchman staring you down as he passes on his bike and a bar full of Dutchmen ceasing their conversations to stare at you. We ordered up a round and talked amongst ourselves before the giant Dutchman in the corner started a conversation. I will reserve the contents of this conversation for a separate post because it requires some background about the Dutch holiday season in order to fully grasp the story. The bar was cozy. I would guess there were about twelve patrons including us. We asked Giant Dutchman what time the bar closed. At this point it was about 7:30. The whole town was closed except for this bar and the hotel bar next door. Giant Dutchman debunked our assumption of early last call by telling us that the bar would be open until 4:00 but if we wanted more booze, we could go next door and if that was closed he had more back at his place. This was an enticing offer but it was completely contrary to our weekend goals. We wanted to detox and enjoy the outdoors, not drink all night with Dutchmen. I know what you're thinking. You think we drank ten more beers and then went to this guy's house and learned all kinds of crazy things about Frisian culture. If I had made the decision that night, your assumption would be correct. Chris and Jon were not up for a late night so we went home early. They would later confess that they did not understand what he was asking and, if they had, we probably would be out in the dunes hearing tales of Viking battles and the Frisian independence movement. It worked out for the best because I am now fully relaxed from the weekend and dude could have been some weirdo who wanted to pray on tourists.