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There Be Windmills We arose just before Walter's electronic alarm went off. He knocked on the living room door, then entered in his boxers. The toilet was in a separate cubicle off the living room. At the breakfast table I noticed Walter had put up a plastic frosted partition covering the lower half of his kitchen window. "I usually make breakfast in the nude," he explained, "and when I first moved in here the woman across the street could see I wasn't decent. Now she has to bounce on the couch." Walter warmed buns in the microwave. We ate them with an assortment of toppings. Cheese; blueberry jam; dark honey from forest bees; a relish made from pineapples; and a mixture of white and chocolate soft spread that kids would like but mother's wouldn't. A soft boiled egg was eaten in the half shell with a teeny spoon. "I'm selling my boat so I can buy a bigger one," Walter said. "If I decide to sail around the world the one I have now would be too small. I'm expecting a call from an interested party in Rotterdam sometime this morning." At ten-thirty they called. They wanted to meet Walter and inspect the boat. That was why Walter had grease on his hands when we had first met him at the marina. He had been making sure the motor was going to start. It looked like a good day to try it out -- the wind was in the three to four force range. "What it usually is," Walter said. Sharon and I said good-bye to Walter and lugged our beasts back down the stairs. We went to visit the church, but mass was in progress and the doors were locked to visitors until they were finished. We toured the harbour area and downtown again. It was very quiet. Hardly anyone was about. In a city of eighty thousand it seemed strange that there was so little activity. What did everyone do? Certainly not yard work. There were no yards. At twelve we checked out the church. I had to use the washroom. Sure enough, a fully formed Snickers bar packed with peanuts rested on the shelf waiting to be admired. It didn't smell so sweet though. I jettisoned it into the final frontier. The church was big. The Dutch name for the church appropriately translated to "Big Church". A video played describing various aspects of the church, but it was in Dutch. We cycled towards Kinderdijk. To get there we had to cross a dike on a ferry. But we had no money. The ferry operator kindly decided to give us a free lift. We were fifty meters above the surrounding land. It was the first time I had disembarked from a ferry and cycled down. Walter told us there were great views of windmills along the Lek River. They were the first used to drain the land. The area had the greatest concentration of windmills in Holland. In one sweeping view I counted twelve -- thirty were in the area. We crossed onto a cycle path and followed it with windmills on our right, and windmills on our left. In one spot six windmills lined up perfectly in a row. There was a steering wheel (like a ship's) that turned the windmill's huge blades into the wind. I was a bit surprised to see that the windmills were being lived in -- folks worked outside in gardens, and clothes flapped on lines. There were even mailboxes next to the water's edge! I guess the post is delivered by boat. The fietspad (as Dutch bicycle paths are called -- literally "fast feet") continued to a treed picnic area. Ducks with fuzzy newborns paddled about catching insects. We stopped to eat at a picnic table and I noticed that as Sharon walked around I could feel the ground shake. The turf itself felt a little spongy, and when I stomped on it, it made a somewhat disconcerting hollow sound. Maybe Holland was actually Hollowland? |
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