Wednesday, 17-June
I went alone to Den Haag (The Hague). I still don't know what a Haag is--I'm getting perilously close to buying a Dutch-English dictionary, now that my visit is drawing to a close, of course. The letter G is pronounced like an H; the letter W is pronounced like a W, not as in German, where the W is said like a V; the letters IJ are pronounced like a long I. The word 'wine' sounds the same but looks like "wijn." Gouda cheese is pronounced “Hooda.”
I think one of the amazing things about Holland is the ubiquity of Dutch. This sounds like a stupid thing to say, but Rotterdam has 150 nationalities, and they are all speaking Dutch, even within ethnic groups. It seems to me that in London and New York, the different nationalities speak their own language with each other. Even in High Wycombe, a much smaller city but with a large ethnic population, the different groups speak their own languages with each other, especially the Muslim women. But here, not so, and this has been true for Rotterdam, Amsterdam, and now Den Haag. Interesting. And it makes me feel provincial to be so surprised! I am just not used to seeing blacks and Indians and Asians speaking what I think of as a quintessentially northern European language, as their first language. Which reminds me of a funny moment we had, several nights ago when we went out for supper and ate at a superb dim sum restaurant. Our waitress spoke no English, we spoke no Dutch or Chinese. It turned out that she did speak French, so I ordered our food in French in a Chinese restaurant in a Dutch city.
Back to Den Haag. I had found out about a huuuuuuuuuuge market area with 520 stalls. My mind was filled with images of strange foods and objects and antiques and odd things unimaginable. It was a disappointment; after an hour I was hot, hungry, and had a headache. It was completely crammed with people, Muslim women wearing headscarves and pushing strollers and filling the tiny walkways, not moving; piles of shoes being pawed over and identical from stall to stall; cheap clothing and handbags all nearly identical; piles of vegetables (some of which I can't identify) and fruit (quietly fermenting in the midday sun), one seller doubling the price from the stall next door; mountains of nuts and figs; meat sellers, watch sellers, trinket sellers, tacky-cloth sellers, fried food smells; no way out; bumped by handbags---Help!
My antidote to the market was the Mauritshuis (pronounced Mow-rits-house) Museum, a beautiful mansion that now houses Dutch masterpieces, cool and quiet and hushed. Lovely atmosphere, and an exquisite collection of Rembrandts, and about four Vermeers, one of which is so fine that I may have to go back there just to stand in front of it. It is called 'View of Delft' and one of the very surprising things about it is that it's big. I think of Vermeer making such small pictures. I also wasn't expecting to be so bowled over by his technique, which involves such tiny droplets of color, like a string of pearls, to make the highlights along the side of a boat, for instance. And in this museum, as well, you can walk up to a painting and look at it a nose-length away. How simply and perfectly he paints a woman on the canal bank; if you look at it, you can't understand how so little can communicate so much. I read that he used techniques that are similar to the impressionists, making things look the way they feel, rather than strictly how they look. And this was in 1650. He gave tiny highlights to things that couldn't really have had them, strictly speaking, but that needed them; and he made some towers taller because they needed to be taller for the composition. I am again struck by the difference between seeing even a superb print and the real thing.
I came back from Den Haag in time to take a bicycle tour of the city with a small group. Rotterdam was obliterated by WWII and it makes me very sad to think what it must have been. Our guide said it looked pretty much like Amsterdam. What was destroyed was the center of the city, the oldest part. They rebuilt it with all sorts of 1950's ideas, like the city center should be a place where people work and shop but not live. Now they are seeing the error of this and rebuilding again to introduce high-rise apartment buildings in the center of things, because after business hours the place is barely alive. They put in a shopping area that is a pedestrian zone for ten blocks, the first pedestrian zone in the world. Of course, it is dull as ditch water! And now there is much debate about whether they should improve it or whether the boring and ugly 1950’s look has historical significance now. Much the same debate that goes on with furniture conservation!
That's the news from Holland today, Ellie.
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Thursday, 18-June
Bruce got out of his conference for the afternoon. We took the train to Delft, a ten minute journey. The train leaves about every twenty minutes. It's enough to make you tear your hair, knowing how easy train travel could be.
From the train, Delft looks completely uninteresting. All you see is the backside of town. But get on the other side of the station, and a mini Amsterdam unfolds. We were hungry when we arrived, and we found a cute restaurant with its dining room on a barge pulled up to the bank of the canal. We had lunch with the delicious Dutch beer that has become my staple. Across the canal (about 20 ft. away) a group of students were playing pickup soccer and the ball kept going into the canal. Finally a water taxi went by and fished out the ball for them. In another half minute it was back in the canal, and they were trying to hook it with a chair tied to a rope. I got the feeling the ball spent most of its playtime in the water.
Then we went to the Old Church, meandering through canalled streets, rubbernecking and trying not to back up into the canals. The Oude Kirk (pronounced owda kerk) was built in 1240, with some more added in 1520. Vermeer, who was from Delft, is buried there, in the church floor. The grave stones on the floor are extraordinary because they are carved in high relief. You really have to watch your step because there's a lot to trip over. The legible stones were 17th century, but many, many stones that still had deep relief carving were completely blank where the writing had rubbed away over the last six centuries!
Next to the Oude Kirk was a museum, where I THOUGHT there would be a Vermeer or two. Guess what--Delft has no Vermeers!! Rather sad. Anyway, in the Museum, which had excellent Dutch masters, we learned a lot about William of Orange, also known as William the Silent, who apparently founded Holland, having rebelled against Spain in 1648. He had four wives, the last of whom warned him that his best friend had a "creepy manner"---and sure enough, the guy murdered William, and the museum is actually where it happened, with the bullet holes in the plaster.
Delft, and most of what we've seen of Holland, is made of bricks. They don't seem to have much in the way of stone, which makes sense, being essentially one big bog. When you think about all the bricks that were produced just to build Delft, with all the streets paved in brick as well, the mind reels. Our next stop was the Nieuwe Kerk (the New Church) which was started in 1394 and finished in 1476. Quite new. William of Orange is buried in a crypt there, where all the royals are buried. I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't even know Holland still has a Royal family!
Supper was in a strange restaurant where everything is served, and eaten, in the manner of the 16th century, or thereabouts, and, alarmingly, no silverware appeared. When I said we needed forks, our waiter explained that in the 16th century they ate with their hands, and we were expected to do the same.
It was a lovely day out in Delft! -Ellie.
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