Life: Idiotropic

My lack of blogging has been a sad reflection of that due to the fact that I'm really trying to avoid whining about the weather despite my having every reason to gripe a little. I mean, truly, out of the last 60 days, we've probably only enjoyed 10 completely rain free (and none consecutive). All others either start with rain, end with rain, or rain for hours in the middle leaving us with very few options for outings at waterlogged playgrounds.

Frustrated with a house bound summer and needing an escape, I finally hedged my bets and left, figuring I'd rather be stuck inside somewhere else than my house - at least the view would be different and for a couple days I wouldn't have to clean the kitchen.

Finding places to stay this time of year is almost impossible. Trust me, I'd been looking on and off for over a month for someplace anywhere on the coast from Belgium, through the Netherlands, and even to the North Sea of Germany. Over and over again my queries either came back "we are fully booked, try again later," or with availability at a price that would send any reasonable person into shock. And since ALL OF EUROPE vacation during the same SIX weeks of summer, these places can ask almost any price, often triple the rates of the rest of the year, and get it.

So, long last, Kirk went TDY to Washington D.C. for two weeks and I decided that if he was going to have an adventure, then I was too and I finally found a place near Alkmaar, a great town with a really fabulous cheese market that I've been dying to see. I mean, what's not to like about men dressed in white outfits lugging around enormous cheese rounds!

We left last Wednesday. I'd planned on leaving at 9, then 10, but then it was absolutely pouring down rain and I was very close to chickening-out on the whole adventure. My housekeeper and neighbor came over just minutes before I was finally scooting out the door (at noon) shaking their heads at me. "Vacation? Alone? With the children? In the rain?" Yep, the crazy American mother strikes again.

The drive was almost exactly 2.5 hours - not bad considering that more than half of it consisted of crazy autobahn splits and detours. I remember loving that drive the first time we drove up to Amsterdam. Today, as the driver, I didn't notice the beauty as much which I did miss, knowing it was there and unable to see it.

We drove to our B&B first, a traditional Dutch home with a thatched roof, gorgeous gardens, a green house, and two little goats in the front.

Although it was just 3 minutes from the center of town, we didn't know that getting there. Out seemingly in the middle of nowhere, among large plots of land either filled with livestock or flower fields, the Bed and Breakfast Tjallewall is a little rectangular oasis all on its own heavily planted on three sides with trees, and with very well manicured grounds. The narrow curving road leading up to it is lined with algae blanketed canals on either side with geese and other local birds living in them. Most buildings along it also have thatched roofs, some ornately carved around attic windows.

We arrived tired and hungry, so we didn't stay long at that point, but as we unloaded the car, Annelies, the proprietor, kindly offered us juice in the common room upstairs that lies in the middle of the 5 guest rooms and the kitchenette.

We had the family room, nicely set with 5 comfortable twin beds, a spacious sitting area, a clean bathroom, and the two slanted attic windows that you can see in that photo to the right. The girls enjoyed opening up the windows and brushing their hands along the thatching. Anneliese told me that though thatching is extremely expensive (it takes one many 2 full weeks of work to complete one side of the roof), that it lasts 30+ years for the sides of the roof that receive the most sun and elements, and up to 50 years for the sides that are more sheltered.

Already getting into evening by the time we'd arrived and unloaded the car, we drove into Schagen to get food and walk around a while. On a Tuesday evening, the town was remarkably quiet, but the restaurants were open, so we had a lot to choose from. The Indian-Chinese restaurants seemed funny to us - we saw 3 of them while we were there. Walking around the large church in the market square past rows of old buildings with the stairstepped rooftops, the sign for a 7 Euro Kip (chicken) Cordon Bleu appealed to us. The restaurant was nice enough and the food was delicious. Even the kids enjoyed it. Elise ate half of my chicken since she was the only one who didn't order one. I'd ordered a kids meal for her - the KipSate - but the chicken, though tasty alone, came smothered in a 1" layer of peanut sauce - not something that my kid can appreciate. Piet Pann, our restaurant, was the perfect people watching platform for me. Sitting by the wall facing the front door and window with the sun going in and out of the clouds so quickly it seemed like a child was playing with the lights, I could watch all the other patrons there - the scruffy bald man in a grey "Army" shirt with smoking with an old coffee on the table, his foot resting on another chair, reading "Vince Flynn" - a very traditional Dutch family with one blond daughter sitting quietly playing with legos - and an eclectic group of young people, one with a tall man sporting that leathery smoker's skin, slumped down in his chair casually smoking a cigarette while resting his elbow on his knee. And, these characters could easily have been watching us as well. Early in the meal, Luci decided that one of her shoes hurt, so she took it off. The others colored on random scraps of paper I'd had in my purse. Tiara and I were talking. Then I looked over at Luci - sitting slumped down in her chair holding one socked foot in her hand chewing on the dirty socked toes with her big eyes looking up at me like she was doing nothing out of the ordinary. Minutes later her sock was off her foot and on her hand - sock puppets at the dinner table. With Luci around, I can never be too haughty - that's for sure.

Walking through the town after dinner we saw a lot of nice stores, a Tex-Mex restaurant, and several hair salons. It's really a "normal" town when it comes to the commerce, but the architecture make it special. With almost every storefront nestled inside an old building, the ambiance is quite charming. On the walk back towards the car we stopped for the obligatory ice cream. The little girls had Smurf, Tiara had Stracciatella, and I had the most delicious Biscotti ice cream ever with little bits of cookie in it.

The next morning, Anneliese served a very nice breakfast for us and then we headed off for the beach in Callantsoog knowing that this would be the only rain-free day of our trip.

A small tourism centered town with several beach access paths over the high dunes to the North Sea beaches, Callantsoog came highly recommended by locals. Knowing we could expect only one nice day, I wanted to make the best of it, so we had packed enough beach stuff to sit and enjoy a full day. Expecting to see the ocean and finding none, it took me a minute to realize how close we were. Just south of the town there is a large nature preserve with two lakes and miles of dunes with nesting sites for storks and 70 other species of birds. The tall dunes are covered in grasses, so it's difficult at first to recognize them as dunes. We got into the town and wound around looking for a parking spot. Within the limits of the commerce area, parking is paid only with a limit of an hour - too short even to shop or to enjoy a meal. Bike rentals and sailboard rental shops lined the streets with other shops selling towels, tents, umbrellas, beach toys, and other brightly colored items. Everything there is clean and well kept - not the tacky salt worn beach town at all. May be dunes protect it.

Just down the road a minute from the main town we were happy to find a nice parking lot right across the street from an access path over the dunes that was almost entirely empty at the time (but quite full when we came back later). Then, it was just a quick walk up the steep hill and down the other side to the North Sea.

We were among the first at the beach arriving just past 10, but as it filled, we quickly felt out of place with just out little cart full of beach towels. Renting large wagons or bringing their own heaped with towels, beach mats, toys, and tents, the locals take their beach outings quite seriously. Little by little the beach filled with brightly colored nylon tents and walls staked into the sand, protecting their inhabitants from the wind and sun and staking their claim on that small radius of beach. I asked the German man next to us, properly prepared with his own tent, if the German beaches are the same. "No, nothing like this." He'd arrived his first day, felt instantly awkward, then went out and purchased his own. We rented one for the day for only 3 Euros - not a bad deal for the shade it provided and a warm place away from the wind.

The wind was fierce and cold, yet the locals still walked around half-naked in their beach attire, some wading into the water over waist height. My girls had on sweatshirts over their tops and shorts and still were freezing standing on the edge. Arianna; however, wanted to get wet, so eventually I had to give in and let them all get into their swim suits.

Without Kirk, the trip wouldn't necessarily have been quiet, except for the fact that Tiara had her nose in the new Harry Potter book at every chance, limiting chat with my favorite conversationalist. So, most of our beach day I played in the sand or waves with the girls and Tiara read her book. We ate once - amazingly good chicken and french fries from the little beach restaurant there taken "to go" and eaten in the comfort of our little beach tent.

By mid-day the bicycle parking area up on the dune was so full that people were chaining them to the railing along the cliff and all along down to the parking lot on both sides and it was hard to find a spot big enough for a tent on the beach. Then the clouds rolled in quickly and people packed up and scattered quickly. Still, by the time we left at 5, the rain hadn't yet begun and new people were still pouring onto the beach to replace those that had left.

Restless after a time of rest at the gasthaus, I took the girls later that evening to Albert Hein to pick up some groceries. Albert Hein is a wonderful grocery store chain in The Netherlands that has a pretty nice selection of foods. This one, being in Northern Holland, had the most exquisite cheese section I've ever seen with an entire wall of large cheese wheels and large baskets of Edamer balls. Across the street we had some ice cream (I had stroopwaffel - delicious) and took a short walk down a canal and back. At the very end of the canal was a house that I wanted to take a photo of. It was so perfectly quaint and beautiful with well kept gardens - something out of a magazine. But then, in the driveway was it's owner, a large tattooed man with long hair welding something next to his Harley Davidson - a contradiction in terms that is common here, but still amuses me.

So... Day 3 was supposed to rain all day - not a good day for the beach. Luckily, Schagen has their market and parade on Thursdays in the summertime, so we drove 2 minutes up the street to the parking lot that Anneliese recommended. It was full. We drove on. All the parking lots were full. Circles upon circles driving while watching hordes of people on bicycle and on foot walking towards the city center we were getting a little nervous, but eventually found a place about 15 blocks away and walked arriving right at the known Albert Hein and literally in a mob of fancily dressed ladies and men standing on the side of the road, waiting. Minutes later we heard music, looked down the street, and saw the parade starting.