O
Holland's Got Mi
}s Hertogenbosch, Holland
Reprinted by special permission of
Abel Green, Editor of VARIETY, of
a letter from a visiting correspondent of
STARS AND STRIPES in Europe.
Dear Abel:
Whoever sent me up to cover the
American invasion of Holland for the tu
lip festival forgot to tip me off about the
weather.
After a tough winter and an unusually
cold spring, Dutchmen here keep talking
like devoted fans of a last place ball club.
All they say is, "wait till next week."
Meanwhile, there are more Americans
here than tulips, and most of them (the
Americans, not the tulips) are wishing
they'd brought their overcoats.
Talked to a Dutch tulip expert, though,
who said the flowers have just begun to
bloom, and anyone leaving now from
Germany or France would probably catch
them just at their prettiest.
Of course, finding a tulip in bloom
wasn't the only problem I've run into up
here. Before I came they told me that
everyone in Holland speaks English. If
that's true, I've found the exception that
proves the rule. First Dutch hitchhiker I
picked up over the border spoke Dutch
and could wave his arms in seven lang
uages. But that doesn't help me.
I should have taken a Belgian along
with me to translate. Found out to my
surprise that the northern half of Belgium
apparently speaks more Dutch than
French. It's probably just out of courtesy
so the people in Holland will have some
one to talk to.
Anyway, with my strictly Dutch guide
pointing out directions with an old
wooden shoe, we started out for The
Hague. That's where the Dutch keep their
government away from all the tempta
tions of wild Amsterdam. I don't know
whether my guide just wasn't familiar
with his country, or I misunderstood what
he was pointing out. But by the time we
went through Bergen op Zoom, made a
right turn to Loom op Zand, angled left
to 's Hertogenbosch, by-passed Stad aan
't Haringvliet, and stopped for gas at
No sweet girls these three little hoys
fathers5 old wooden shoesOn the island
their sisters until the age of 5. The white
as boys
Wolphaartdijksche Veer, I was a little
confused.
Seems like the Dutch never use one
letter for anything where five will do.
Then they've got a way of pronouncing
words that sounds like an Irishman with a
bad cold coughing up a rolling R. They
probably got the cold from the weather
here.
By the time we got to The Hague, we
were so cold we stopped for dinner in
one of those Indonesian restaurants.
This one had a small volunteer fire de
partment of its own that just stood by
and waited for American tourists to put
about 20 Indonesian courses on top of a
dish of rice and take the first bite.
This incendiary surprise is called Rijst
tafel. Consists of rice and 19 or 20 side
dishes, each one soaked in pepper. But
they don't tell you about the pepper. Best
thing they've found to put out the re
sulting fire is Dutch beer. That's probably
why it tastes so good.
I thought everyone in Holland lived in
the bottom of those big windmills, but
apparently it isn't so. There are so many
playing with boats made from their
of Marken little boys are dressed like
lace band on their bibs identifies them
red brick homes with small yards here
that I thought I was back in the eastern
United States. These people must have
stolen their architectural styling from the
Pennsylvania Dutch.
Just outside the capital is Maduredam,
Holland's tiniest city. Here all buildings
are reproduced at 1/2 5th life size. This
place is a shutter bug's paradise, John,
with steamships, docks, oil reservoirs,
houses and windmills, all reproduced in
miniature and dwarfed by the kids who
go wild here.
Saw a lot of Americans at Holland's big
flower park, the one they call the Keuken
hof. Translated into English it means
kitchen station, and I've yet to find a
Dutchman who can explain why a flower
show is named after a kitchen.
Most of the Americans were standing
around eating outside the Keukenhof's
main gate. They've got a couple of big
stands out there selling hot dogs, ham
burgers and cheeseburgers, just like in the
snack bars, only not so greasy.
You have to battle your way up to the
