Archive for April, 2009
Madurodam
Kitsch is one of those words that is bandied about a little too freely. It has gone from being a word used to describe tasteless or overly sentimental “art” to becoming a label slapped on everything from stripper pens to pop art tissue boxes. Cheese on the other hand is, in my opinion, a much better word for describing these things. Pieces of work created with the complete understanding of their lameness are cheesy. The cheesy grin your sibling puts on in all your family photos is a great example.
When Martine and Marion took me into Madurodam the first word that popped into my head was cheese. The place seemed to be the biggest, cheesiest place I had ever come across. Opened in 1952 Madurodam is named after a Dutch war hero. It is a collection of models showing the major highlights of Holland in 1:25 scale. I looked down over the minature representation of Holland that spread before me and I could practically smell the mature cheddar that lay in wait. But then something magical happened. I fell in love with the place.
The closer you look in Madurodam the more you see. The detail that goes into every inch of the place is exquisite. Each building is absurdly detailed, right down to individual bricks. Trains run around and through the miniature country side constantly. Cars drive around tiny streets. Little figures engage in imagined arguments and ogle hookers in the itsy-bitsy red light district.
We spent hours wandering the park, finding new things to look at with every turn. I still marvel at the detail put into the buildings. If you didn’t know better, looking at some of my photos you would think I was standing in the streets taking photos of real places around Holland. Seeing them in real life just validates their accuracy. Check out my photo of the Peace Palace from my first day in Holland, and compare it to the shot of the miniature.
If you’re in De Haage, check out Madurodam. As I put in their guestbook, it’s: “The most fun you can have in Holland with your pants on!”
Keeping the Sea at Bay
As most people know, a large part of Holland is completely below sea level. In fact: where I sleep is still around a meter under sea level, even though I am on the second floor. The lowest point of Holland is around 7meters below. To maintain a country that is constantly at risk of flooding is not an easy task. Huge engineering projects have been created to keep the sea out of Holland. Constant pumping of water is required to keep the land dry and the people safe. The landscape is crisscrossed as far as the eye can see with Dykes and Canals.
I had the chance to see some of the major storm doors that are placed along the Dutch coast line. The first I saw was the Oosterscheldekering, a part of the Delta Works that protect Zealand from flooding. The doors are a huge series of gates that can be opened and closed during storm surges to protect the coastline.
The next storm barrier I saw was probably the most interesting piece of engineering I’ve seen in Holland. The Maeslantkering is one of the largest moving structures in the world and automatically closes when needed. The huge white doors are rolled out into the centre of the waterway, pivoting on massive ball joints and are sunk onto concrete footings. Photos don’t really do justice to how big this thing is.
Walking around the Netherlands you are constantly reminded of Holland’s war with the sea. It is a country living on borrowed time. One day, inevitably, the sea will reclaim the land, but not before the Dutch try every possible method to stave off its advance.
Family History
Possibly the one reason I included the Netherlands on the Odyssey is that I have family history here. With a surname like VanderHeyden it is no suprise that I have dutch heritage on my Dad’s side. Dad grew up in Holland until he was around 13 years old before immigrating to Australia.
It has been interesting seeing the house where Dad was born and the neighborhoods he haunted back in the day. I saw his parents flat and visited his Aunt and cousin. It has been great learning more about the country that part of my family came from and it makes me wonder what it would have been like to grow up here, surrounded by water and cold.
Busy
Some people have complained about my lack of updates of late, and they are perfectly right to do so. I have neglected the Odyssey. Normally brimming with new and exciting adventures, the site has become a stale backwater festering with a quagmire of posts about drinking and lame stories of dead dogs and rocky outcrops.
Writing on the road can be hard. It is often difficult to be creative and most importantly: interesting after a day of adventuring. Most often I pick up the laptop with good intentions but all I want to do is sleep. One thing to note is that, while my lack of updates may have fallen over the last week, my days have been plenty busy.
I am in Holland now, having arrived at Schipol on Monday last week. The weather that day was beautifully warm and sunny, especially compared to the misery that was London weather. The good weather hasn’t let up since I have been here, which I am told is quite strange. My first week in Holland saw my Dad’s friend Paul taking me all over the country to see various sights. Storm doors, places in my family history, beaches, famous cities and towns. We even rode a good 50km’s on a pushy. We caught up with Henk, Jenny and their daughter Jessica in Olddorp where I dunked my toes into the freezing north sea. I caught up with my Dad’s Nephew and his Aunty and saw the tulips.
On the weekend I attended a party for one of Paul’s friends birthdays and had a great time playing Wii with kids and old’s alike. I helped Paul look after a garden of one his friends and on Sunday had a drink at a restaurant with Marion and Martine near where I am staying at which Paul lost his camera. I met Paul’s son and his wife and I cooked schnitzel for the lot of ‘em.
This Monday Paul had to go back to work, so Marion and Martine became my guides. On Monday they took me to the wonderful Madurodam where I saw all of Holland in just a few short hours. Tuesday was Martine’s Birthday so the day was spent celebrating that in the sun. Wednesday we adventured to Amsterdam where I walked the red light district, attempted to apply for my Italian passport and did a little shopping. Thursday I relaxed, gave Marion a hand with getting some plants for the garden and had an icecream at Boskoop.
So as you can see I’ve been pretty busy. I’ll try to write up some articles about some of the more interesting things I’ve just mentioned so expect to see them in the next few hours. For now: enjoy some of the photos I’ve taken from around Holland!
The Church
Religion is one of those things that really isn’t something I can discuss without the conversation getting heated or me just having to shut my trap. The mere idea of it makes me cringe. I am tolerant of those who have beliefs, and I think people should be able practise what ever religion they want as long as they keep themselves. Hell, I support Pastarfarianism, but I’ll never push the teachings of the flying spaghetti monster on anyone even if I was touched by his noodly appendage. That said, religion does have some merits. Like its role in the creation of public holidays.
Easter weekend is one of those holidays we have to thank some of the bigger groups of Invisible Cloud People followers for. It is a great weekend. Some people get chocolates, everyone gets a Holiday and as always, there’s an excuse to get rat shit maggot pissed. Which is what I did this Easter Sunday. I met up with Jessica Cullen, a friend from Perth and, with a few of her mates, we hit “The Church“.
The Church is hard to describe. For three and a half hours, every sunday, it hosts a multitude of yobbo aussies, sleazy south africans, goofy americans and smelly brits as well as a sampling from pretty much all corners of the globe for an afternoon of debauchery. This is real hedonistic stuff. Drink can only be purchased three at a time and are handed to you in a plastic bag to be easily attached to a belt. A preacher delivers a rousing speech, taking the piss out of everyone in the room. Strippers, both male and female strip right down for the heaving crowd and drinks flow into gullets faster than they can be dispensed.
While a little crazier than most night clubs I have been to, it was just like being at home. Sweaty dudes with their shirts off, chicks that couldn’t handle their drinks, the same songs you’ve heard in every pub, every weekend. Booze covered chicks and strippers is pretty much the only way you could ever get me into a Church. Pure-fucking-gold.
Attached is a gallery of the usual “Simon’s been out drinking” photos I take, most of which are of me looking pissed. Majority were taken at the Church, some at the Shepard’s Bush Walkabout later in the day. Enjoy.
Prior Park, Bath
It is very handy visiting a place where you have locals willing to show you around. During my visit to Bath, Lucy’s mum took us to one of her favourite places in the town, Prior Park.
Built by Ralph Allen, the local big shot, the gardens were important in defining the concept of the English Garden. Beautifully landscaped and maintained the site is something of a wonder. While Ralph Allen’s mansion is now a private school, the parks are owned by the National Trust. Its most striking feature is the Palladian bridge, which is one of only four left in the world.
I don’t know what else I can say about the Park, it was beautiful beyond words and I am indebted to my hosts for taking time out of their day to show me this little piece of history and paradise. Enjoy the photos I have attached in this gallery and keep an eye out for the 1800′s graffiti. Wild!
Bath Water
On Wednesday I caught the train for about an hour and a half to see Bath. There to greet me was Lucy, one of my friends from the Sydney Railway Square YHA.
Lucy proved to be a very capable tour guide, showing me around the sights of the town. Bath is most famous for, you guessed it: the Roman Baths that were built here over the natural hot springs. Suprisingly the baths were lost for a long time, only being discovered when the basement of a house built over the area kept mysteriously filling with water.
The complex allows tourists to examine the baths but, unfortunately, not to swim in the warm water. Restored to what is believed to be a pretty accurate representation of how the baths would have looked during the Roman times (except there was a roof over the baths) the site does a pretty good job of transporting one back to the heady days of the expanding Roman empire.
On display are artifacts recovered during the excavations and rooms upon rooms of the original Baths. After walking through the site and seeing pretty much all we could, I downed a cup of the water, said to have restorative properties. It tasted like mineral water and eggs, and was served at body temperature supposedly straight from the source. It didn’t make me sick, so the water couldn’t have been all bad. Kinda is fun to say I’ve drunk Bath water from the Roman Baths in Bath.
At 11 quid for a self guided walk around the Baths it was a little expensive for a povo traveller, but worth a look for all those interested in taking a glimpse back in time.
The gallery attached to this post includes some shots from around Bath, most notably of the Abbey, the Royal Cresent and the Circus.
Arthur’s Seat
Yesterday, I climbed Arthur’s Seat. The Seat is a portion of an exinct volcano that rises above Edinburgh. Interestingly, as was pointed out multiple times during the walking, Arthur’s Seat has nothing to do with King Arthur, and the name is believed to be a bastardisation of Archer’s Seat, which seems much more logical. There is a heap of history associated with the Seat both geographically and socially, but I’ll let you find out more yourselves. While normally quite an easy climb especially when done in certain directions, I set myself the challenge of climbing the road less travelled. The climb took me from one side of the Seat, along a gentle slope onto the windward side, where I scaled the steepest part of the hill which didn’t require climbing equipment.
The view from Arthur’s Seat is amazing allowing you to see Edinburgh proper and the surrounding regions. It was quite beautiful. At the top I was able to drop my whole body weight against the wind that howled around me and remain standing. Rain was pelting in sideways, so hard that I felt that my face was being cut with glass with each drop. It was great. I spent about 3 hours casually strolling the Seat, taking in the sights and generally being proud of myself.
Soaking wet I sauntered back into the hostel at about 4pm. I got changed, hung up my gear and retired for a brief nanna’s. The Edinburgh night was calling me and I had to be ready.
New Edinburgh Pub Crawl
I’ve been doing a lot of drinking in Scotland. When in Rome and all that. Last night in an effort to satiate this alcohol fueled demon that seems to inhabit me whenever I stay in a hostel I joined the New Edinburgh pub crawl. The tour, organised by the same company that ran the walking tour I went on earlier in the day, took in about 5 pubs and a night club. Starting the tour at the Bank Bar, 70 people gathered together in the cold and fog and drink tokens in hand trudged the streets.
I made a few new friends, dominated the video pub quiz (scoring a share of the 10 pound payout), and drank, drank, drank. It was a great night, but I lost everyone at the Hive. I hit up another club, and headed home about 2am. For anyone looking for a great tour group to explore Edinburgh with, I don’t think you can really go past the Sandeman’s New Edinburgh group. Fantastic stuff.
In other news I managed to score a room at St. Christopher’s, the hostel I’ve been at the last two nights, even though I left the booking until this morning. Pretty lucky, as the interwebs were telling me the whole of Scotland is booked solid.