Junket for Junkies

We were directed to wake Polly every 2 hours during the night, the possibility of bleeding inside her skull of some concern to the doctor. After 2 uneventful wakings however, I set the alarm on my cell phone incorrectly and we both sleep through the rest of the night. I wake up swearing at myself, but Polly is fine. The lump is diminished, the purple is migrating southward, and she shrugs off our suggestions that she remain on the boat today. We leave Lemmer under cloudy skies, Polly among us, 16 ducklings behind Bram the Guide.

It is Monday, and we pass through miles of open countryside, farms, small villages all closed and quiet. Those of us tuned to Monday morning industrialized country frenzy find it a little eerie. Echten, Echtenerberg, Munnekeburen, Scherpenzeel, Spanga: all closed. By 10am, concern mounts, and by 11am we have a serious, serious problem: where are we going to stop for coffee and pastry?

Ritual caffeination is deeply engrained in this culture, and 1030am is time for “koffie”. I always assumed “koffie” happened whenever you dropped in on someone, “I’ll be there for koffie” a frequent refrain, but when I once showed up at an aunt’s house at 1130am after suggesting I’d come for some coffee, I discovered punctuality was expected. These people need their fix ON TIME, or things get irritable.

Luckily, just before noon, at Ossenzijl right next to the bridge in the center of town, 4 hours after breakfast and 26 hours since the last coffee break, we finally find an open café. Koffie, Cappuccino, Koffie Verkeerd (Latte): all hastily ordered; appel taart met slagroom (apple pie with whipped cream) smoothes ruffled feathers. Mutiny averted, though some are already writing complaint letters to the trip organizers in their heads…they could have…they should have…

We leave the streets and enter National Park “de Weerribben”, a beautiful sanctuary of waterways and bike paths. Lunch is a picnic beside a canal, the kids focused on feeding the ducks. It rains occasionally. We meander through the park, enjoying the quiet, the birds, the solitude…OK, there’s 16 of us…maybe not the solitude. Occasionally one child or another lags, and we become practiced at pedaling while holding hands, the stronger pulling the weaker, so that we all generally move along as a group…Kalenberg, Wetering, Baarlo…from our vantage point these towns appear to have no cars. There are signs for a town called “Mosquito Bite” (Muggenbeet), but we pass to the west.

In Blokzijl we get back on the roads, but the 4 hours far from civilization have seriously taken their toll: shopping spasms hit some of the women. Those of us unaffected try to stay calm and patient, but our nerves fray as we consider the possible cost. Some of the group continues on and we lose group cohesion, but the condition luckily passes quickly. We don’t ask how much. We move on. In late afternoon we reach Vollenhove, and the boat.

written by

roel krabbendam on June 24, 2007 from Lemmer, Netherlands

from the travel blog: Heaven

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