I thought I would share some thoughts of what I miss most about our last home in Haarlem, Holland. We lived there from September 2002 (moved there when Isaac was just 5 weeks old) until August 2004 when we moved to London. I hope to post future blogs about what I miss about Houston (or the U.S. in general) and what I will miss about London.
First of all, I miss the view from our third (fourth for Americans) floor flat. I complained plenty about walking up all those stairs, but it was an incredible view. Even better, we had half a roof terrace above the surrounding buildings and from there we could see all the highlights of the city: St. Bavo’s Church (a.k.a. the Grote Kerk), De Adriaan (windmill), the Teyler’s Museum (oldest museum in the Netherlands), the Amsterdamsepoort (an ancient castle-like gate–the only bit still standing of the city’s old walls), the big dome of a prison (think that’s what it was), and St. Bavo’s Cathedral (another big church, but not to be confused with the Grote Kerk itself), and a little glimpse of the Spaarne River (only a block away but hard to spot from our side of the roof).
The Grote Kerk (Dutch for Big Church) sat at the center of Haarlem and was only a 5 minute walk from our home. That 5-minute walk passed right by the city’s red light district as well (described by travel guru Rick Steves as “cute as a Barbie doll”). It really was a very relaxed red light district and I rarely felt nervous walking through there (the exception being when a dirty old man tried to make advances to me one afternoon). I loved that little walk to the town’s center square (called the Grote Markt) by the Grote Kerk. I usually walked down a couple steegjes (little alleys that only a pedestrian could walk through). I liked the quiet narrow, old-world alleys, but they were also notoriously popular spots for men to urinate. A couple times I actually started down one of them pushing Isaac in the stroller as a man was in process or zipping up. I don’t miss that. I do miss the cobblestone streets–sometimes a real pain to walk on or push a stroller down, but so quaint and Dutch.
The Grote Markt was also home to a market on Mondays and Saturdays. On Mondays it was mostly clothing and textiles, but on Saturdays you could find almost anything, especially in the summer. We liked to buy little rolls at the bakery stall, and I loved getting my fresh veggies and fruit at the produce stalls. There were loads of other foods to buy–eggs and cheese, olives, fish, and best of all the delicious stroopwafels. Stroopwafels were sweet, hard little flat round waffles with caramel inside–a big sugar high. They were amazing hot and fresh at the market, but just not as good from the grocery store. I also bought lots of flowers (especially tulips, of course) at amazingly low prices. How I miss the flowers! There were also lots of other random products for sale–toys, candy, shampoo, batteries, etc. At the Monday clothing market, I stocked up on sweet little flowery skirts in the summer.
Moving on from the Grote Markt, I also really miss my favorite shopping streets nearby–the Grote Houtstraat (which is the primary shopping street in the town center) and Barteljorisstraat (which is also the location of the Corrie Ten Boom museum–the house where Corrie and her sister worked with the Dutch underground and hid Jews from the Germans in WWII). I never knew I liked shopping until living in Haarlem, but I truly embraced the European shopping experience–traipsing up and down the ancient streets lined with cute little modern shops–so different from an American shopping mall or SuperTarget. And I loved the Vroom and Dreesman department store–not so different from an American department store. Oh, and HEMA–I miss HEMA–inexpensive small department store where everything is HEMA brand. It was the place I went for basics–basic socks and shoes for Isaac, basic pots and pans. It was the place to go if I didn’t know where to go for something–sewing kit? Shoelaces? Bright orange bath mat? Yep, they’ve got it. I also found some pretty cheap shops where I could find random things at a very low price. I think the only thing I don’t miss about shopping in Haarlem is the grocery shopping. I don’t even want to think about squeezing through those narrow aisles in the tiny Albert Heijn–having to weigh my own produce and bag my own groceries.
I also miss walking all over the quaint beautiful town. Cobblestone streets, picturesque canals, flower stalls, 17th-century (and often older) architecture, and the Spaarne river with its boats and bridges. Haarlem is a wonderful place for pedestrians–many streets are closed to traffic (except for occasional delivery vans)–such as my favorite shopping streets and the Grote Markt. I was usually more in danger from the ubiquitous Dutch cyclists than from motorists. Drivers are used to keeping an eye out for people on foot or bike, so it was easy to walk around town. I never did ride a bike in Holland, mainly because I always had Isaac with me and Brian was concerned that I would do us an injury if I rode a bike (a valid concern considering how clumsy I am).
One of my favorite places in Haarlem was the Frans Hals Museum, with lots of art by the Dutch master (a native Haarlemmer) but also with lovely paintings of old Haarlem and plenty of other art. Audra and I visited it 3 times while she was in Haarlem (though I think the third trip was just to the museum shop). We especially loved all the crazy buff baby Jesus paintings.
I especially miss the area we lived in–so close to the center of town. Very near our building was a very old church called the Bakenesserkerk (we lived on Bakenesserstraat, in fact). It was very old (14th century, I think) and its tower was designed to mimic the one on the Grote Kerk. Its bells played hourly and we grew used to hearing them throughout the day. And at about 9:00 every night, the Grote Kerk played the “Damiaatjes”–special bells of three tones–Ding Dong Dong–for a half hour. These were in remembrance of a particular crusade battle Haarlemmers were involved in centuries earlier. It was amazing to think they’d been playing those same bells for so long–but Haarlem itself was founded in something like the 10th century (should probably confirm that before writing it, but I know it was pretty close–point is it’s a really old place).
I have mixed feelings about the Dutch language. I miss trying to use it and how funny it could sound, but I don’t miss how the Dutch would almost always automatically speak to me in English no matter how much I tried to speak Dutch. I also don’t miss the feelings of alienation walking through town and hearing everyone speaking Dutch, which I could understand to a certain extent but not well enough to follow for long. I actually still use Dutch on occasion around the house. Brian and I thank each other in Dutch a lot and I like to tell Isaac “No, don’t do that” in Dutch (“Nee, niet doen” pronounced sort of like “Nay, neet dune”). Isaac actually said that to Ewan the other day when Ewan was trying to chew on something. “Ewan, nee nee nee, niet doen,” he said. I also get sort of homesick when I see something about the Netherlands in a book or on TV. And if I hear a Dutch accent or someone speaking in Dutch (like at a museum here in London) I feel very warm and fuzzy.
I also miss being a 5-minute walk from a very cool art deco train station. Train travel is fairly inexpensive in Haarlem, and I could take the train to the center of Amsterdam in just 20 minutes. From there I could walk or take a tram to go to American Women’s Club of Amsterdam meetings, the Anne Frank Museum, the Amsterdam Zoo, the shopping district, the Van Gogh Museum, or any of the other great places in the city. I loved the public transport in the Netherlands–it was cheap, generally clean, easy to understand, and it went almost everywhere. Of course, Holland is also a very small country and very densely populated–similar population count to Texas, but 1/17th the size of Texas.
Wow, I am now feeling really homesick and nostalgic for my old home in Haarlem. I’ll just end by saying that even the Dutch from other places seem to have a soft spot for Haarlem. When we would meet Dutch people elsewhere and they learned we lived in Haarlem, they often sighed sweetly and said, “Ah, Haarlem” and then recounted what they loved about the city. For pictures of Haarlem, visit my website.
