Helaas! Nederland is uit!

It seems that all of Holland has gone mad for football over the past couple of weeks - from “wuppies” in the grocery store to just about anything you can imagine in the color orange. It’s a major let down over here that the national team lost in a world cup match to Portugal last evening. They have been eliminated from the tournament.

It certainly wasn’t from lack of enthusiasm by the fans. The streets were eerily quiet when we walked down to Frank and Natasja’s to watch the game. It seemed that the city had been abandoned. But you could see in the windows of the houses. The living rooms were full of partiers and every TV was tuned to the match.

I know absolutely nothing about soccer, but even I had a good time and thought that it was a pretty exciting game. Holland played hard, but it seemed to me that they lacked the ‘fire in the belly’, balls-out gusto that would get them to the next round. I was very surprised when the last six minutes was posted to the clock; the coach stood calmly on the sidelines; the team passed the ball around the field like there was at least another half to go. Like I said, I don’t know much about the game, but I’d have expected an all out blitz or a few hail-mary’s to try and even things up. It just wasn’t going to happen.

Today the mood is definitely subdued. I missed the best opportunities to get pictures, but here are a few of the pre-game hype.

Ruigoord

There is a large park, some 3000 hectares (7500 Acres), that lies between Haarlem, Velsen, and Amsterdam. Beth and I use the park extensively for biking, hiking, running, and kayaking. I know the area well enough that if you were to drop me on any of the hundreds of kilometers of paths that crisscross the park, I’d be able to quickly get my bearings and tell you were I was at - even with the nondescript pancake-flat landscape.

Of course it helps that I’m a bit of a map junkie. Sometimes I’ll sit and study a map before I head out for a ride to look for new routes or other highlights that I might not have seen before. It was during one of these study sessions, more than a year ago, that I spotted a tiny village named Ruigoord. The map shows it as nothing more than two short streets with an old historic church at their intersection. Technically it wasn’t even in the park, but it was close enough that it still showed up on the map. Instead of green, the village was surrounded by the grey shaded blocks that indicate an industrial area. But those two orange roads with a little cross at their center always looked interesting to me, a little remnant of hope holding out against the insidious encroachment of development. Over the last year I have specifically set out on two occasions to find it - both times without success.

This past Friday I thought that I’d give it another try. And this time, I ignored the map. The landscape outside the park has changed dramatically since it was printed. Old roads and paths no longer exist. New, bigger roads have been laid. Gigantic warehouses with “Starbucks” printed on the side have blossomed like fungus from landscape. This time I found it.

Ruigoord still is. And though I no longer belong there, I am glad that such a place as this exists. To me, it represents what I thought was good in the world. Back when I was young.

www.ruigoord.nl

Port entry to Ruigoord

The old church of Ruigoord. Now a theater, a dance hall, a gathering place

Pilgrims of the Summer Solstice

Setting up for Solstice

Puppet and ball dancer - very cool!

The Thunderbolt

When I finally rolled back under the Randweg tunnel into Haarlem, the sun had dropped behind the dunes and the city was basking in cool, quiet dusk. I coasted through the northern neighborhoods, only pedaling enough to keep my bike moving slowly toward home. My heart rate was dropping, but the endorphins still coursing through my blood gave the streets a hazy, almost purple glow. Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘America’ started playing on my I-pod. Perfect.

It had been a hard ride. A 35 kilometer, balls-out, leg-burning lung-buster through the dunes. In case you haven’t already guessed, that means hard in a good way.

On a day like today, when the sun is shining and the sea is blue, there is no place that I would rather be than on my bike in North Holland.

Utrecht

We did a little day trip down to Utrecht last weekend. It’s the fourth largest city in Holland and one of the few that was founded by the Romans back in the first century AD. Our only impressions of the place prior to this visit were from a distance as we sat in the atrocious traffic jams that always seem to plague the area around the city. Unfortunately, Utrecht lies at the apex of four major highways, all of which seem to be under constant construction and must be used if you want to get down to the Ardennes Mountains - a favorite weekend playground of ours.

This time we took the train, which made for a relaxing trip. I have to admit that I was pleasantly surprised with Utrecht. It has a very young and energetic vibe to it. Probably due to the large university that is situated there, but apparently it’s also the hub of the Dutch film industry and we were surprised to see that it was also loaded with theaters and acting schools.

We had a lot of fun exploring the city and after we saw our third Greek restaurant, we figured that it was a local specialty and decided to stop for lunch. A great choice for an outstanding, and authentic Greek meal.

But there are two things that Utrecht is really famous for- the sunken Oudegracht canal, lined with restaurants and shops, and the massive Domtoren. After our experience with the tall tower in Delft, we decided not to climb the Domtoren, but we certainly enjoyed the way that it constantly dominated our views of the city.