Landscapes/
Cityscapes

Tiptoeing Through The Tulips
by Catherine Skrzypinski

Parangtritis—A Beach Not Too Far
by Barrie Lie-Birchal

lParma and Modena
by Jackie Goyette

A Glimpse of Hell
by Calum Harvie

Nantucket: Nice Pants and an Attitude to Match
by James Lairdo

Hotel Palacete de Cázulas—A Mansion of Memories
by John Towler

Shanghai Surprise
by Catherine Skrzypinski

Old Orchard Beach
by Marie Logan

Playa Del Carmen, Mayan Riviera
Riu Playacar Resort
by Daphne Wilson

Family Fun in the Forest
by Rosalie Robison

Digging Through Mexico City's Museums
by Robert Craig

return to main
Archives

Landscapes/Cityscapes

Tiptoeing Through The Tulips
Dodging bicyclists and pickpockets, I try to make the Netherlands feel like home
by Catherine Skrzypinski

The gags began even before I packed my bags for the Netherlands. My best friend prepared me for my move overseas with an Amsterdam survival kit – a sexy pair of lingerie to parade around in the Red Light District, a bong to enjoy Amsterdam’s “finer pleasures” and the Diary of Anne Frank; essential reading for the long flight. On Christmas morning, I found a plastic bag filled with oregano in my stocking. Friends flocked to the nearest travel agency to book flights to Amsterdam so that they could visit classy museums like the Rijksmuseum, Van Gogh Museum and of course…the Sex Museum and also to sample the city’s most famous delicacy – the space cake.

Their silliness aside, I knew that there was much more to the Netherlands than legalized prostitution and a tolerance of cannabis. In fact, most of the Dutch seem to actively ignore these dens of inequity. The inhabitants below sea level are bursting with equality, liberalism and above all, friendliness. My first impressions of the Dutch after I landed at Schiphol were that they answer their cell phone by identifying themselves right away (“Hi, this is Bram”) and they are more than willing to help with directions and information about their beloved country. Just don’t forget to pack a day planner--the Dutch plan their lives around their diary.

Delirious from jet lag, I wandered around Utrecht, my new home, to the nearest supermarket to stock up on some essentials. The Albert Heijn supermarket chain is a national institution – although the prices are higher than some other chains, its pleasant shopping atmosphere with fresh food displays and soft rock music faintly playing in the background attracts both students and seniors. Much to my surprise, the carton of milk that I just purchased was sour, as I violently spit out the swill into the sink. Little did I know at the time that I accidentally purchased buttermilk, a heavily creamed milk concoction that most Dutch drink at lunch time. Definitely an acquired taste!

After a couple of days, I discovered that most of the Dutch do speak English, but I figured it would be to my advantage to try and tackle the complicated language. The word “strippenkaart” creeped into my vocabulary, as I found myself using public transport to get around Utrecht and needed a ticket to board the bus. The national strip ticket (strippenkaart) can be used on any bus, tram or metro in the Netherlands. But the fun began when I told the bus driver that I wanted to get off at “Waalstraat” … since my Dutch pronunciation is terrible, it sounded a lot like “Wall Street” to the bewildered bus driver. Before long, I began to understand why the Dutch complained about traffic jams so much – I felt like I spent more time sitting on the bus at rush hour than I did studying for classes. It was time to live like the natives and buy a bicycle.

On the surface, the Netherlands is a safe country, but it is wise to use the same amount of street smarts as you would in New York. Don’t be fooled by the Netherlands’ laid back vibe! Violent crime is unusual but theft, especially pickpocketing, is a huge problem. Every Dutch town and city has at least one street market (markt) and tourists should be advised that this is the place to go to pick up a bouquet of tulips and to have your wallet stolen – if you’re not careful. I learned this lesson my first weekend in Holland, as my wallet was swallowed up amidst the market crowds on a bustling Saturday afternoon. Apparently, there are more pickpockets lurking on the cobblestone streets of Utrecht than there are in Times Square in New York City. I reported the incident to the local police, but figured the procedure was just a formality in order to get my money back. I was quite surprised when my wallet turned up a couple of days later! Withoutthe cash, of course.

While I was an Undutchable, I admired the paintings of Vermeer and VanGogh, bought a diary, fell off a bicycle, befriended the Dutch police and pickpockets and ate Chinese-Indonesian takeout. But I’m afraid I never enjoyed the buttermilk…or the bong, for that matter.

Other articles by Catherine Skrzypinski:

• Classical Greece: a photojournal

• Snapshots of a Scandinavian Winter

• Buy A Vowel

• The Hidden Gems of Japan

• Shanghai Surprise

• London Calling, Backpacking and London Spotlights

• Midnight Train to Xi'an, China Spotlight, April 2002

• Take A Bite Out of the Big Apple, New York Spotlight, January 2002