A Canadian Gypsy and Pilgrim

We stayed in Bonn for three days. These were good days as we managed to find enough non-rain time to do some interesting wandering around the city and to the Drachenfels ruins just outside of Konigswinter, which is about a dozen kilometres from Bonn. Of course, the biggest draw for Bonn was Beethoven. No matter where we wandered, there was always something about Beethoven to be discovered: where he played the organ in church, where he stayed with his grandfather, and all the other bits of trivia that one would expect to find regarding a famous figure.

As we toured around the city, we found the various parks, markets, churches and various interesting statues. One of the highlights for me was the University of Bonn – I know, surprise, surprise – where we saw the words, “Science is thinking without barriers.” These are powerful words in today’s world where so many leaders of various countries deny what science is trying to tell us about our planet.

Our trip to Drachenfels proved to be another highlight, one which we had planned for before leaving home. The ruins of a castle with a story of a dragon and a hero sat at the top of a small mountain. Half way up the mountain, a more modern castle from the 1800’s told a different story. It seems that there are more than enough stories to be told, some in paintings, some in poetry, and some in music such as the Nibelung opera by Wagner which was inspired by the ruins at the top of the mountain.

There was too much to see, too many interesting photos and stories. With our time for Bonn at an end, it was time to move to Luxembourg.

Before we left Canada, I had arranged to meet with a man who had become a friend and colleague. By colleague, I mean that we both share the same passion, that of writing. Six years ago, I decided to take part in a novel writing challenge. The goal was to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. As I prepared for the even during October 2013, I followed suggestions to find a few writing buddies in order to support other writers and be supported in turn. One of those writing buddies I connected with was Paul Kater.

Now, six years later, I finally got to meet Paul face-to-face. In the years between that initial becoming writing buddies, Paul and I have continued to engage in conversation, almost always about writing. I have read his books and he has read mine. In fact, we have bought each other’s books as part of that idea of writers supporting writers.

Paul drove from his home to Arnhem to meet Maureen and me. Then we went to an open-air museum that showed traditional Dutch life. It was a living museum with Dutch people performing life tasks as they were done before the modern world and technology worked to push the old ways of doing things into history books. Needless to say, as we listened and watched the demonstrations of spinning wool into yarn, or watching a wheelwright craft a wooden cart wheel, both Paul and I talked of the stories that could be told with what we were seeing and learning.

As Maureen said in a Facebook post, the two of us never seemed to stop talking. Now, people who know me, know that I’m the quiet one in the room. It just is the way it is. Perhaps that is why I find myself caught up in the world of writing stories. It’s a way to talk without opening my mouth. Yet, here I was, talking and listening; listening and talking. A number of hours later it was time to leave the museum and find a mid-afternoon meal – yes, we stayed in the park that long. And of course, our conversations continued. Of course, Maureen was often included in the conversations … but … we did slip into ongoing conversations that had begun months and years earlier.

I guess one could say that this visit was a pilgrimage to friendship.

When we first thought of going to see the quaint community of Haarlem, I have to admit that I immediately thought of Harlem in New York City. Of course, I had to do some research and found this: “Harlem was originally settled by the Dutch in 1658, but was largely farmland and undeveloped territory for approximately 200 years.” It makes sense. That said, being in Haarlem was definitely a Dutch experience that would never be replicated in North America. Our first stop once we left the train station was at the tourism office to get a map so that we could plan our strategy for the day. We didn’t want to miss out on anything.

A quick stop at yet another cheese shop with taste testing to make sure they were keeping up with the quality we have come to expect, was followed by some generalised wandering to take in all of the sites around the Grote Markt area. The buildings were old, very old. As they were buildings owned by the nobles and the wealthy merchants and trade unions, no expense had been spared when they were built. Prestige demanded that one put one’s best face forward.

St Bavo’s Cathedral was more than impressive, especially since Haarlem isn’t really that big of a city. There were quite a number of other churches. most of which are now Protestant churches when not museums. Most Catholic churches were abandoned when The Netherlands became a Protestant country. Think of the fight between the Protestant Orange and the Catholic Green in Northern Ireland and you will get an idea of the intensity of the conflict during the Wars of Religion in Europe. William of Orange was from The Netherlands.

Like every other place we have seen here in the Netherlands, Haarlem is busy with canals. We used the canals as landmarks as we circled the city from various directions, including a stop to see another windmill along the edge of one of the canals.

After stopping for lunch, we made a final foray into the town noticing a Hudson’s Bay Store and a Macdonalds. Too late to stop at Macdonalds as we had already eaten. The building was beautiful. It almost seemed a shame to have American fast food be in such a setting which would have been more suitable for waffles or chocolates or cheese. The Hudson’s Bay store is definitely a Canadian store. The company has been in The Netherlands for two years and will shut down all 15 stores in the country by the end of this year.

It was a day well spent.

We arrived in Amsterdam on Tuesday and decided we would walk the almost six kilometres to our accommodations on the other side of Rembrandt Park. It didn’t rain and the walk was more than enjoyable as our first taste of the city told us that it was nothing like Rotterdam. Along the way, we stopped at the National Monument to get a photo as it was unlike other national monuments in other cities we have been to in Europe.

The apartment is nice and the owner is very welcoming. I can tell that we will have good memories of this place. As soon as we ditched our bags, we were quickly out the door to wander through Rembrandt Park and then on through another park called Vondel Park. It was a huge park. We emerged from the park in search of the Van Gogh museum and several others which were nearby. Lesson learned, buy tickets ahead of time, online as no cash is accepted at the door. This is the case for so many things. You need a credit card. By the time we returned to the apartment, we were more than tired having walked more than 18 kilometres.

Today we took a bus to the train station from where we intended to take a strange winding route which would eventually take us back to the apartment. The plan had been to walk 15 kilometres, walking slowly while taking photos knowing we had the whole day for this trek through the old part of the city. No sooner had we got off the bus than we saw the Eye Film Museum and the A’dam Lookout perched across the bay. There were people swinging at the top of the A’dam Lookout.

We finally headed out to our planned walk and found a cheese shop to distract us. We must have tasted about fifteen different types of cheese. The lady working the store was dressed in traditional clothing and was friendly beyond belief.

Stuffed with cheese, we wandered on and found ourselves in the Red Light District. Where you see red lights, there is likely someone perched on a chair below the light, ready for business. It made both of us uncomfortable, but it is what it is.

We wandered up and down canals seeing all sorts of centuries old houses, restaurants, marijuana shops and pastry shops. When we arrived in China town, we stopped to have lunch across from the Buddhist Temple which we visited when lunch was done.

Next on the agenda was to go to the Auschwitz Memorial. Just before the park within which the memorial is located, I found this statue which read, “de wereld bleef doof” or “the world remained deaf.” It was a powerful statement.

And then it started to rain with a vengeance. We had walked almost 14 kilometres and were still 7 km away from the apartment – the best laid plans – so we took the subway back to within a block of the apartment. It has been a good two days so far in Amsterdam.

We left early this morning to catch a train to The Hague. A half hour on the train had us arrive in the city. What a difference in the feel of this city in comparison to Rotterdam. Somehow it felt less foreign, or should I say less reserved and distanced. This isn’t said in any way to disparage Rotterdam. Perhaps it had more to do with the rain stopping and feeling free to wander.

We made a few stops before arriving at the Binnenhof, a 13th century fortress that became a parliamentary building in 1584. It is one of the oldest parliamentary buildings still in use in the world. At one end of the courtyard is an old church that is the Knight’s Hall. It is here that the government awards its medals of honour.

Our main objective on our walk was the Palace of Peace where the International Tribunal deals with court cases that often have to do with war crimes. Watching Crossing Borders had stirred my interest in visiting this site. Standing in front of the palace that serves as courtroom for making the world a more peaceful and safer place definitely was the highlight.

Regardless, the hours spent roaming around the city, including a stop for lunch and a second stop for Mochaccino [caffè mocha] , disappeared faster than we wanted. However, 15 kilometres later, we were ready to get back on the train to return to our studio suite in Rotterdam.

It was a study in contrasts when it came to Belgium. Ypres, then Ghent, and a finishing off Belgium with a stay in Antwerp. Though not separated by a lot of distance, the feel, character, and the architectural story for each city was very different. Antwerp reminded us of Vancouver. Antwerp showed an opulent face as soon as we got off the train, as seen in this photo looking at the train station from just across the street.

Moments out of the train station once our tickets to Rotterdam were purchased, we came across this entrance into Antwerp’s China town. The walk through the core of the city, en route to the tourism office and then our apartment showed us a city busy with construction, new buildings rising from cleared spaces. Yet, there were grand old structures that were preserved and vibrant with life as they were converted into hotels, offices, and shopping centres such as the Stadsfeestzaal along Meir Street, an opulent store built at the end of the 19th century. Of course, there are older buildings in the city core as to be expected.

Thanks to our rain ponchos that fit over our backpacks, we were able to stay dry while we walked as it continued to rain on and off as we wandered through the city. With the backpacks stored, we again went wandering as the sky began to break. We had a city to investigate. The municipal museum, Museum aan de Stroom, shown here is all about the new world with history at the core. Another modern building, the Port Authority, or Port House was found.

Antwerp wasn’t all about the buildings. We wandered through streets, people watching; then through parks to enjoy sights and sounds of nature; and finally, we took a tunnel more than a half-kilometre long under the river to reach the residential suburbs and a kilometres long walkway through small parks that had Viking themes, beaches, and up-scale modern homes that advertised wealth and good taste. Again, this could have been a scene found along the residential seaboard or along the river in Vancouver. I wonder what Rotterdam, South Holland, in the Netherlands will be like?

After Ypres, a town razed to the ground by WWI then rebuilt to look like it did before that war, arriving in Ghent is like arriving into a different country. The first thing to catch your eye as you exit the train station is the number of bikes parked nearby, literally thousands of bicycles. The not-so-small circular park was surrounded by deep rows of bikes. Over the days since we’ve been here, we have seen so many people riding bikes rather than driving cars.

Ghent is a university city, the Flemish university par excellence according to the main Ghent University. One of the things that typically goes with being a university town, is that it becomes a vibrant city of art and culture, especially a town that has had its architecture survive two world wars. The building across the street from our apartment was built in 1732. Other buildings stand proudly from the 1300’s. The oldest ordinary building is the Stapelhuis shown here which was actually built in the 1200’s. However, the Graventeen Castle was built in 1180.

Ghent is a city with canals, something that likely most cities in Belgium have in common. It is at the joining of two rivers, the Leie and the Schelde, where the city first began. The canals are joined to these two rivers. The result for the old centre of town is a picturesque medieval landscape. We made a point of walking most of the canals that touch the old city centre, and a few that went outside, those that were more river than canal.

Now, about the art. So many buildings have statures or reliefs or murals with carved stone for decoration, even houses. Of course there are formal statues in gardens or decorating important buildings like the Opera, Guild Houses, and Government buildings. Yet, it is the new that captures the imagination. One particular street about a block from our apartment is called Graffiti Street, Werregarenstraat is filled to overflowing with art. Yet as we walked further, we saw more such modern art. The art shops which are more numerous than one would expect, fire the imagination of the possible.

There was too much that we saw that could fill pages and pages of commentary with photos here. However, we have more places to go and more to see. Next stop is Antwerp. Just an aside, I have taken more than 2,000 photos since we arrived, and those are just the ones we have kept.

We got to Ypres, or as it is known here in Belgium, Leper. We found out that the main language is actually Dutch. We got here early so had a full day to explore the town. Sixteen kilometres later, after we had stowed our bags at the B’n’B, we had covered most of the town.

We followed the walking guide we obtained in the tourism office – well, for the most part. As you can see by what the Garmin watch tells us, we are very allergic to straight lines. We did some backtracking to find a site we thought we had missed only to find out that we really hadn’t missed it at all and had even taken photographs of the sites.

Though the town was basically reduced to rubble, the rebuild began with help from the British Commonwealth. The citizens of the city were adamant that the rebuild would recreate the same buildings in the original styles rather than adopt the more modern architecture of the 1920’s. In our opinion, that was the smartest thing that they could have done. The Flemish architecture is a treat for the eyes and makes the draw to Ypres more valuable for any tourist.

In the evening, we made our way to the Menin Gate to be part of the Last Post. An interesting thing to note, the Last Post has been observed every night at 8 pm since 1928 with the exception of when the Germans occupied the town during WWII. We have attended Remembrance Day services many times over the years, however this Last Post ceremony was beyond moving with the names of almost 60,000 dead in unmarked graves above our heads and along the walls of the Gate.

Day 2 in Ypres, we began with a tour of the “sacred” sites for Canadians in WWI. Our personal guide, yes a guide-driver for just the two of us, met us at 9 am at the Menin Gate then took us to the site where John McCrea, the author of “In Flanders Fields” worked as a medic, the Essex Farm site.

Our guide showed us maps of the front lines and the routes taken to get the wounded to the points such as where McCrea worked. Then we saw what served as the medic station and command post for officers in a rude cement bunker. The sketches done by wounded soldiers and stretcher bearers show just how bad it was with war raging all around them.

As we drove to the next stop, we passed several more grave sites of fallen WWI soldiers, some smaller than others, and a few a bit bigger than what we had visited. The names of the sites spoke of battles with the grave yards being the sites of the battles.

We stopped at a German grave site which has become the only remaining grave site in the area as the exhumed remains from the other sites were moved to be placed at Langemark. How many German soldiers? More than 44,000 soldiers with more than half of them in the unmarked mass grave behind the metal wreath.

Our last stop was at Hill 62, a different kind of site called the Sanctuary Wood Site. It was the first battle that Canadians fought as a unit under Canadian command. The objective of the battle was to take the high ground away from the Germans, an objective they succeeded in obtaining at the cost of more than 8,000 Canadian lives.

Yes, those are poppy umbrellas provided by our guide. We returned back to Ypres, mentally exhausted. After a late lunch break, we went to visit the Flanders Fields Museum. In the museum, I did learn that at least one Longpre died in defense of Ypres, Eddie S. M. Longpre. Too much to take in. It left both of us almost shell shocked. As our guide had mentioned repeatedly during the four hours we spent with her, coming to Ypres and visiting the sites is a real pilgrimage for Canadians, Australians, and many other nations in the Commonwealth.

Tomorrow, we are off to Ghent and a different kind of experience.

Lille is a very different city from all the other cities we have visited in France over the years. It is not better or worse, just different. I have a strong feeling that it has more to do with the fact of it being almost as much Flemish as French. It seems to show up in the names of streets and of some of the men who have statues erected in their honour.

It might also have had something to do with the weather which has been mostly showers interspersed with periods of pleasant weather. We were able to go out walking and taking pictures for both days we have been in Lille. Over the two days, we walked more than thirty kilometres, only needing our rain ponchos for a few of those kilometres.

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, we are heading to Ypres and Flanders Fields. This will be one of those stops that will be what I can only call as sacred.

Today was the main stage of what I could call is my personal pilgrimage to what might be called my ancestral roots. It was just a short twenty minute train ride from Amiens to Longpré les Corp Saints, on a train headed to Abbéville.

I was well aware that the village that was our first destination for the day, was a small one with 1,650 people. Like much of Picardy, most of the houses in Longpré where relatively new, built following WWII. Much of the church, however survived. The history of the town has seen it destroyed by passing armies a number of times. I guess the people are stubborn as they are still there. Walking from the train station into town was a slow affair as I gawked like a tourist even though there was nothing touristy to see. It didn’t matter.

After stopping by the church and then the town offices, it was time to take another walk. The destination was the village of Long on the other side of the river. Out came our hiking poles. On the way, we passed a little hamlet called Catelet before turning to follow a road into Long that was really a dyke with marshes on both sides, the source of the region’s wealth for many centuries, if not thousands of years – peat and woad.

The village of long had only 625 people. Yet at one time, it was the centre of power, a fact noted by the presence of a mansion built during the reign of Louis XV for the Lord of Long, Longpré, Catelet, Fountaine, and a few more villages. Regardless of the history, we walked around the village, stopped for lunch, took photos, and then walked back to Longpré les Corps Saints to spend our last hour before catching the train back to Amiens.

It was a day where we walked 17 km and enjoyed great weather. It was a different kind of day, a rural day. Though tired, I am satisfied with the results. Tomorrow, it will be Amien’s turn to impress.