HAARLEM

Wednesday, April 20

Leaving mid-morning we continued cruising down the river to Haarlem, once the most important port after Amsterdam. From here we planned on using public transportation for some day tripping to towns further south. Like in Norway we had notes from our cruising friends, Ginger & Dick of s/v ALCHEMY and Helen & Gus, s/v WINGS; and, all of them had spoken highly of the charms of this historic city.

Just so you get an idea of how the Dutch have adapted to living on the water, check out these condos. Looks like their sailboats serve as their cars :)

Reaching the harbor master office located alongside a double bridge we paid for a week’s mooring and once again were kindly provided a city map with the locations of boating necessities (public showers, a laundromat, grocery store).

While waiting for the first bridge to open, the lady who had helped us in the office came down to the pontoon to tell us one of the bridges was broken; but, as she said we weren’t in any hurry since we were on holiday, which couldn’t have been truer. With the sun shining, a bright blue sky, and the promise of a berth in the midst of this old city, we felt lucky just to be on a boat gazing at a windmill in the distance.

Within an hour the bridge was repaired

and we continued down to a spot on the east bank of the river wall. Although located on the more residential side it was reputed to be quieter and still within easy walking distance of all the major attractions.

Once JUANONA was secured we hopped off and strolled along the canal dodging cyclists. I have to say we thought it was a bit harrowing in SE Asia when crossing lanes; yet, there at least there seemed to be a constant flow in one or two directions. Here, traffic resembled a whirlpool of two-wheeled cyclists, four-wheeled vehicles, and two-legged pedestrians. Consequently our heads swiveled like owls’ every time we started to cross a pathway. We sigh with relief when we’ve reached the other side without a potential near-swipe of a passing vessel, be it mechanical or human.

In spite of every-which-way traffic historic Haarlem is easy to navigate as the Grote Markt or main square hosts one of the city’s oldest churches, Grote Kerk van St Bravo . We headed in that direction with the church’s towering wooden spire (a replica of its initial stone one, which was replaced due to the weight of the sandstone ) as our beacon.

The architecture is stunning with facades featuring elaborate gables, which I found out served as an identification prior to the introduction of street numbers by the French. The building below looks like something that’d cause the sky to yell ‘Ouch’. We see these stepped lines a lot around here although this is the most elaborate so far.

Landing in the plaza we found ourselves with the surround-sound of amusement park rides including a ferris wheel.

And bordering this modern funtime was the 14th-century town hall,

the statue of Laurens Coster whom they claim invented movable type along with Gutenberg,

the 17th-century beef market and fish house all within a cobblestone throw from the church.  

For some reason I had thought of The Netherlands not as a cruising ground but as a transiting point. I believe this arose from (a) knowing it was fairly early to begin our summer voyaging and (b) thinking ahead to a trip home for our nephew Thomas’ and Renee’s wedding. In any event it meant we had left Ipswich without a handy guide book; so, off we went to the local tourist office who directed us to a book store. 

Once there the enthusiastic owner offered us free coffee, wifi access, and proudly showed us the largest book I’ve ever seen and the most expensive for sale (over 6,000 euros) I’ve gazed upon.

 

His store had one of only 15 located in the country and he’d already sold five out of limited press run. Gorgeous prints of paintings covered the pages, sized in various percentages to show exquisite details. 

 We told him one couldn’t fit it aboard JUANONA, which is when he mentioned a nice little table stand came with your purchase. Did I say he was also a salesmen?

 With all of this history flooding around us seems like a good time to do my usual history jaunt through time. There’s no straight line through this country’s history, so bear with me if you’d like…

Thursday, April 21

I remember hearing about Corrie ten Boom but had forgotten the specifics of her heroism. She didn’t want to be called a heroine but the title fits; and, her selfless acts began right here in Haarlem at her home on Barteljorisstraat number 19. 

We arrived mid-morning thinking we’d just stroll right in and walk through not realizing reservations were taken online. Fortunately, the tour guide kindly let us join the group of 20, which increased by 24 by the time we all squeezed through the door and up the narrow staircase.

Corrie grew up in a very Christian household and one that truly lived by the code “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. Theirs was an ‘open house’, which eventually became an underground railroad when the war broke out. To indicate it was safe to knock and enter, the ten Booms would place a wooden sign advertising a Swiss watch brand in the dining room window (her father was a watchmaker, and, interestingly, Carrie became the first female licensed watchmaker in Holland).

Corrie, her sister, and her father saved over 800 people, many of them Jewish including up to 100 orphans, from the Germans’ clutches. The majority were fed and provided with temporary shelter during their escape route. Six, however, stayed in the house with Corrie’s family.

After a thirty-minute talk our guide took us upstairs to Corrie’s bedroom where the hiding place was located. 

An architect had the foresight to use brick instead of wood to create a phony wall. Thus, it sounded solid when hunting Nazis thumped on it during their house searches. The two men, two women, and two boys who lived with Ten Booms were able to get themselves into this hiding place within 70 seconds of a warning by one of the family members (a system of buzzers had been installed in strategic areas around he house) There, with some bread, a little water and a bucket, they remained hardly breathing until an all-clear signal was given. 

On February 28, 1944, the Ten Booms were betrayed. Corrie, her sister and father were taken prisoner. Her 84-year-old father died in custody while his two daughters were shipped to concentration camps. The six in hiding weren’t found by the Germans; and, after two days of not daring to exit, two Dutch policemen who were part of the resistance found them and helped them all escape. Our guide said they knew what had happened to all of six them, except for one of the young boys. However, they found out in the mid-80s when a visitor on one of their tours quietly announced he was that young boy when the group was being shown the hiding place. Can you imagine?! 

Our guide also pointed out where extra food ration stamps were hidden under a riser in the staircase. Discovery of this  was the proof the Germans used to charge the family, since they had been unable to find anyone in hiding. 

Corrie was the sole survivor of her family, and she continued to share her faith with others by preaching love of others around the world. Eventually she moved to California where she died in 1983 on her birtthday, April 15, at age 91. Pretty powerful story.

I can’t leave this house without saying how absolutely wonderful our tour guide was. She was very efficient (and fast-talking) in relating Corrie’s life. She mentioned at the very end when we were all saying good-bye she had been a child during the war and remembered eating tulip bulbs but not hyacinths because the latter were poisonous. But, what was more memorable was her aura of gentleness and kindness. When I come into contact with such a spirit all I want to do is bask in their warmth. 

 

Later that afternoon we headed back to our boat and ended up at another Dutch symbol, the windmill.

Our host was just as eager as the morning one. He threaded us up to the top where outside he showed us the blades holding the sails and how they stop the sails with a brake.

He also pointed out a large dome, which he said had been a jail and was now housing a recent group of immigrants.

Then, indoors he explained how this particular windmill was used to grind grains and nuts,

including cocoa beans for the local chocolate company, Droste. I recognized the packaging but had no idea it featured a nurse because chocolate was touted to be good for you. Smart messaging :)

The impressive structure was pinned together with pegs, and numbered, so that the windmill could be moved to another location if necessary. Giant wooden cogs converted wind into power.

A brake allowed the operator to stop the grinding and another lever adjusted how fine one ground the raw ingredients by raising or lowering the stones. (We did stop by the next day to see how noisy it was, and surprisingly it was extremely quiet with the blades turning, although no grinding was being done.)

The next floor down displayed several models of the different types of windmills and a map depicting all of the Netherland’s reclaimed land (light blue).

Originally created to pump water out of the low-lying lands, these mills were used for sawing wood, supplying clay for pottery, even grinding pigments for artists. By mid-19th century there were more than 100,000 windmills; yet, they fell into disuse with the invention of the steam engine – only 1,000 are in operation today.

Fortunately, the government recognizes the windmill as a Dutch heritage and have created a three-year training program for someone to obtain a license to operate these windblown mills. 

During our tour we met two British cyclists who had taken the ferry from Harwich (just south of Ipswich) and were riding to Prague! Yes, they were fit; and, yes, they could probably eat all the cheese they desired and drink all the beer they wanted and still be fitter than when they started. It’s almost enough to make me want to take up cycling; and, I have several friends, such as Kathryn Y., Andrea, Cindy, and Jane G., who could mentor me.

We invited Paul and John back to JUANONA for some wine and cheese and had a wonderful late afternoon discussing a range of topics with the inevitable one of Trump arising.

In addition to this cycling trip (which would take roughly 3-1/2 weeks), they were also traveling to France in the Fall to tour some WWI sites. One of their field hockey teammates is an expert on WWI history and provides an amazing experience, such as researching John’s ancestor who died on the battlefields. Paul mentioned he was asked to recite a poem during this trip, and he kindly obliged us by reading John McCrae’s haunting “In Flanders Fields”.

Tomorrow more explorations of Haarlem’s offerings…