Back in Dutch

Sept. 15-16

Like many troublemakers before us, we have made a foray into the Low Countries.

Not having the usual beefs with royals, reformers, bishops, or dissidents, however, we have come in peace to see the sights.

Right now, we’re in Vermeer’s home town of Delft, where it seems many things are colored blue and white in deference to the royal pottery. 

Much of everything else is decorated with renditions of the Girl With the Pearl Earring. The movie and the tour of the painting a few years ago have made it one of the most famous paintings in the world.

That movie, by the way, may have been the first time I saw Colin Firth when he didn’t lose his wife to one of the Fiennes boys.

We got out of Newark on time Sunday night. We even managed to get some sleep on the plane.

The best stretch of sleep for me was at the end. I nodded off while the plane was unloading and was out for maybe half an hour. I woke up to find the cabin almost empty. 

The train went directly from Schiphol to Delft, so we didn’t have to lug our bags for a transfer.

We reached the Hotel de Plataan around 9 a.m. The lady at the desk was busy serving breakfast. 

Of course, no room was ready at that hour. She told us that she couldn’t promise there would be one available before the nominal check-in hour of three. 

She suggested we take a walk to look at the old town and then come back later. The weather that morning had turned—well—Dutch, a bit chilly with a drizzle.

So we got our raincoats, left our luggage, and went for a walk along the canals.

The hotel is in the old city, a short walk to most of the sights.

We found a place, Puro Cucina, for breakfast on Voldersgracht. We opted for the national dish, pancakes. Neither of us has had them for while, so breakfast was fun.

The door was open to the street, a one-lane passage paved in brick. It runs next to the Voldersgracht. Not sure what “Volder” is, but ”gracht” is a canal.

Small black ducks were playing in the water, which was covered in patches of a bright green growth. In some canals nearby where there were no ducks, the water surface was solid green.

The doors of the buildings on the far side of the narrow canal opened right above the water. This may have been where the houses received groceries in the old days.

Kind of like Amazon or Peapod if they delivered by rowboat.

That was near the Vermeer Centrum, a collection of Vermeer lore, if not Vermeer works. Right now, it features a photographic exhibition called—what else?—Girls With Pearls.

It is almost next to the Flying Fox, site of one of Vermeer’s birthplaces. Either he was born twice or there is some question about where.

The other birthplace is around the corner overlooking the central market.

The market square is anchored by the New Church, which dates from the 16th or 17th century, and the massive town hall.

When we saw it first, the market square was nearly deserted. The major activity was one guy setting up a power supply.

It was no time near three, but damn it, we were tired. 

We went back to the hotel and found the lobby almost empty, since breakfast time had past. We each took an easy chair by a window and fell asleep.

I don’t know what happened. Maybe I’d been snoring. When I woke up they had a room ready for us.

There is a tiny glass elevator where you have to hold the button to keep it running.

It is just big enough for the two us with our bags.

The room is under the eaves and seems to be one of the Plataan’s “theme rooms.” The walls are decorated with a mural of a sandy beach with a few bits of old Greek ruins, a pink ibis, and a rack of fish drying. 

The decor is multimedia. There is a small fish net hanging on the wall, a toy seagull suspended from the ceiling, and a collection of bamboo poles leaning in a corner.  

In an environment like that, what else is there to do? We took a nap and then went out again.

This time we wound up on Heilige Geestkerkhof where the Old Church is. I think the church is dedicated to St. Hippolytus, or maybe St. Bartholomew. In any event, one of its nicknames is Old Jan, which is also the name of a cafe next to the church.

One of the key features of the building, beside the tombs of Vermeer and Leeuwenhoek, is a 70-meter bell tower that leans about two meters out of true.

Joanna noticed it as we were coming up the canal on Oude Delft. We weren’t sure if it was indeed leaning or perhaps an illusion of some kind.

Even standing under it, with my hand on the wall for reference, I couldn’t be sure.

Later, after we had walked around it, we came to a part of the building with low gables and were able to compare them to the tower, which indeed was extending past them toward the canal.

We went back to the Market Square to look for a place to have dinner. The space was filled with trucks bringing parts for carnival rides. Maybe that’s why we found the menus less than appealing. Besides, I can’t imagine a time when I’ll want duck breast adulterated by teriyaki sauce.

We wound up at a bar called Wijnhaven. 

It has a strange beer selection. Most were sours or killer strong ales. I got one from an Estonian brewer called Puhaste. 

It was an IPA with guava. I was skeptical, but didn’t want a 13 percent stout, a Belgian Tripel, a white, or a Pilsener.

The guava didn’t make it sweet, but instead added a slightly tart aftertaste. The hopping was excellent. Joanna took a few sips, too. I had another for my second round.

The reason we had chosen the place was that the chalkboard outside advertised shepherd’s pie as a special of the day.

It was very good, nice and savory. Sometimes shepherd’s pie gravy is red and sweet. This wasn’t.

There was a tiny bit of heat in it, for a little extra interest, but not so much that it troubled Joanna.

It was getting dark and jet lag was catching up to us again, so we called it a day.

Be well all, and enjoy a good walk in the drizzle.

Harry