I flew into Rotterdam from London for one reason… and one reason only; to reconnect with a couple of old friends, Tom and Merel. I hadn’t seen them since my “turtling days” on the beaches of Rethymno, Crete… and the thought of reuniting after all this time made me excited… yet slightly nervous.
It had been twenty five years.
That’s a long, long time!!!
I was fairly certain they hadn’t changed… and were probably as lovely and fun as they’d always been… but what about me? That’s always the real question. Had I changed… for better or worse? You always don’t think you have… much… but usually you always have.
Tom met me at the Rotterdam airport… and as soon as I saw him, all my worries melted away. He was still the same old Tom, unchanged in all the ways that mattered.
The reunion was incredible… better than I could have even imagined.
Twenty-five years had passed… which was practically a lifetime (or two), yet it didn’t feel that way. It was as though we’d last seen each other just a year ago or so. Of course, so much had changed. Tom and Merel were married now… living in the Netherlands… with successful careers… a beautiful home… and two wonderful kids, Aiden and Faye. Yet… somehow, it felt like time hadn’t touched the connection we shared. I don’t think we all stopped talking once.
Not once.
There were countless memories, familiar (and not so familiar) faces, funny quotes, jokes and old photos to sift through… each one like a puzzle waiting to be solved. And it was challenging at times, trying to piece it all together. We all remembered things differently, piecing together the past from our own perspectives.
But… it was FUN… and we had a million laughs in the process.
Merel had a work obligation on my first evening there, so after a fun evening making flammkuchen (like a thin, square German pizza) with Tom and the kids, we decided to hit the town for a stroll.
Middelburg was a charming little village wrapped in city status.
City?
Really?
Historic Middelburg is filled with charm and character… but I’d hardly characterize it as a city.
Well… it’s all true. It’s officially a city… ever since 1217, if you can believe it.
“Middelburg holds city status due to its historical significance and its development as an important medieval settlement. It was granted city rights in 1217, which was a formal recognition of its importance in trade, governance and regional influence. These rights allowed Middelburg to self-govern, establish defenses, hold markets and grow economically and politically.”
We wandered along cobblestone streets, soaking in the glow of the fairy lights and other assorted decorations. I couldn’t stop marveling at how utterly picturesque and adorable it all was. I must have “ooo’ed” and “ahhh’ed” a hundred times…
That’s how enchanting it all was.
Like Stars Hallow in the Netherlands.
Every corner we turned left me more mesmerized than the last.
We stopped at The Flying Dutchman for a few drinks, where Merel joined us after her work lecture. The evening quickly turned into a lively exchange of life stories, each of us trying to condense 25 years of memories, milestones and experiences into one animated conversation over drinks.
I had fallen completely in love with Middelburg by the end of the night… and made Tom and Merel promise we’d explore more of it the following day… which is exactly what we did.
Middelburg’s streets are a delightful mix of cobblestone lanes, peaceful canals and open squares, lined with charming cafés, boutiques and galleries. Everything about it was perfect.
As we did our stroll around town, Tom and Merel provided me with a fascinating and delicious Dutch food tour of Middelburg. I tried strudel, bolussen (cinnamon pastry), poffertjes (sweet, tiny pancakes), stroolwafels (syrup waffle cookies), boterkoek (butter cake)…
… AND raw herring…
No word of a lie.
I stood there… beside the canal… in the middle of Middelburg… and lowered a raw, gutted herring right into my mouth.
Was it good?
Meh…
It was ok.
I didn’t die.
I’d probably not eat it again. But I tried it… and that’s what counts, right?
“Herring, fished from the North Sea, has been a valuable commodity in the Netherlands for hundreds of years. There is a Dutch saying that Amsterdam was built on herring bones, meaning that profits from the lucrative herring trade financed many of the beautiful buildings that line Amsterdam's canals.”
Afterwards we ate fried fish… which was much, much more delicious than the raw herring!
After my Dutch culinary tour, I spent the weekend trying to convince them to start a walking food tour of Middelburg. It’s a tourism hub, they know everyone and where to get the best deals… and most importantly… there aren’t any food tours yet.
It would be a huge success.
I just know it would be.
A lot of our conversation over the days I was there naturally revolved around our time spent in Crete. Back then, that world of sea turtles and cicadas and sandy beaches was all we knew. We all lived in an olive grove, up in the hills of Crete, on the outskirts of Rethymno… and Tom & Thanos were the leaders of our project.
Hands down… it was one of the best times of my life.
Tom was always wonderful… and almost all of us got along with him effortlessly. Merel was in Hania for 1999… and then joined us in Rethymno for 2000. We always got along fabulously… but life dating one of the leaders wasn’t always… easy.
Some of the leaders… at times… a lot of the times, actually… carried themselves as if they were well far above us. All of us (leaders included) were all so young and so impressionable… and so inexperienced with true leadership… and back then, the leaders were told they were better than us measly volunteers. That arrogance trickled down from the top… as it often tends to do… and succeeded in crossing the line into outright bullying on more than one occasion. Even in my Crete journals and memory books, I dedicated pages to things they said to all of us, referring to two of the leaders as the “Turtle Nazi” and “Happy Face/Mad Face.”
The toxic behavior of some of the leaders ultimately contributed to Tom and Merel’s breakup midway through the second season. Thankfully, they were able to leave that environment behind… and now are living their own happily ever after.
Tom never treated us poorly. He always treated each of us as friends and colleagues… not as misbehaving subordinates. While the others could occasionally be condescending, pompous and rude, he made a point of making sure we were appreciated and knew we were “international scientists” … always keeping our spirits up and valuing our contributions.
Looking back, I remember so many laughs and hilarious moments from my time in Rethymno… beach digs that never seemed to end, measuring nests over naked sun worshippers, stumbling across a full deck raunchy pornographic playing cards in camp, singing Frank Sinatra songs non-stop, building an entire community out of bamboo and struggling to wash our clothes while simultaneously attempting to have a cold shower.
Just to name a few…
Those were the moments that kept us going and kept us coming back. The work was tough… really tough… and there were long days with minimal days off. We would often start morning survey at 3am and end the day with public awareness that could be anything from a kiosk shift to a hotel slide show. Whatever our duties were, we threw ourselves into it with everything we had. We believed we were making a difference… not just for the project and the conservation of the Loggerhead Sea Turtles… but for our own lives as well.
And in many ways, we truly were.
Their house was absolutely stunning. The design is simple yet so imaginative and picturesque… with all corners looking straight out of a magazine. It was a three-story home with steep, winding staircases that feel more like an obstacle course than a means of getting around. More than once, I feared for both my life and the future functionality of my legs and knees. Somehow, despite my expectations, I never actually fell… a miracle I still can’t explain.
They are much “fitter” than I am!
One evening… after a full day and night of eating… we were all so full that we figured it would be a good idea to go for a brief evening stroll… to walk the bloat off.
While strolling through the park in the center of town, Merel suddenly caught movement out of the corner of her eye. At first, she thought it was a dog behind one of the trees, but as we got closer, we realized it was a man lying on the ground. Without hesitation, we all went over to check on him.
He was absolutely blotto…mumbling incoherently. I couldn’t understand a word at all, considering he was speaking Dutch… but Merel quickly pieced together what was going on. It seemed he had either fallen or passed out after drinking way too much at one (or many) of the local pubs.
We all got him to his feet while Merel called the bar he’d last been at to give them a piece of her mind, insisting they were responsible for overserving him and letting him wander off alone in this condition. This man, “Case” was his name… was an older hippie with long gray hair and handmade-looking woven clothes… and he was swaying and staggering down the streets, completely out of control.
Every once in a while, he would shop to cuddle a telephone pole… or lean against a wall for a rest. It took us forever to get him home. Case kept asking Merel if she’d been lying on the ground with him and how much she had had to drink.
Merel kept trying to figure out if there was anyone we could contact to come and help him out.
“Is there anyone at home?” she would ask.
“They’re all dead,” he’d say.
“Do you have any friends or family we could call?”
“They’re all dead,” he would repeat.
At first, I think he thought we were trying to mug him… and he was very guarded… but eventually, he began to trust us. His place was chaotic and it was a feat to not only get him to open the door, but to get him in the door. Once inside, all we could hear was the clanging of a large, metal ladder blocking the door and the hallway. How it got there after he’d left earlier is a mystery. Although we told him to be careful, it sounded like he tripped over it and smashed to the ground again, as soon as he got inside.
It was a surreal, slightly absurd adventure… but at least we made sure he got home safely.
Just a few doors down from their house was a cozy, family-friendly pancake restaurant… a pannenkoekenhuis. You could choose between savoury and sweet.
Dutch pancakes are much larger than American pancakes… and can often stretch over a foot in diameter. In true Dutch tradition, the pans here were never washed, as cleaning them would ruin both the seasoning and the flavour that had been building up over years and years of use.
The pannenkoekenhuis was clearly designed with children in mind. The theme revolved around the Seven Dwarfs… with magical gnomes and whimsical dwarfs scattered throughout the entire restaurant, creating an enchanting, storybook-like setting.
It was fun.
Another real Dutch tradition… and Dutch experience for me.
I wanted to experience everything Dutch. Before this trip, my knowledge of the Netherlands was mostly limited to wooden clogs, tulips and windmills. Now I was diving into traditional pannenkoekens, biting raw herring… and discovering other incredible local delights I never even knew existed.
And… Tom and Merel had a blast introducing me to it all… making every bite an adventure.
See… they need to start a food tour business!
Exactly.
Every day felt like an epic sightseeing venture… and… despite warnings of torrential rainstorms, lightning and hail, we woke up each morning to bright blue skies.
One of our explorations took us to the picturesque coastal village of Veere. Nestled along the lagoon, this charming town is famous for its cobblestone streets, gabled houses, and rich maritime history. During the Napoleonic era, Veere and the rest of the Netherlands were under French control… although there is no confirmed evidence that Napoleon actually set foot in Veere.
I can pretend though.
Me & Napoleon… in the same spot!
Beyond the delicious Dutch treats we sampled while out and about, Tom and Merel also cooked some fantastic meals. I’ve already mentioned the flammkuchen, but we also had a poke bowl night and even a full Greek feast (to commemorate our time in Crete.)
They are seriously incredible parents. Everything they do revolves around family. Tom often says, “90% of being a parent is just being there.” And you can see it… they all truly enjoy each other’s company.
After the weekend, Merel had to return to work.
Originally, my plan was to fly back to London and then on to Sicily, but I decided to change course and spend time with my step-cousin (and friend), ZC, who had recently lost her husband.
So… instead of flying back to London, I booked a train to Paris instead… meaning I had one more full day in the Netherlands.
And what do you do with a bonus day in the Netherlands?
Duh…
You see as many windmills as possible!
The Dutch started building windmills as early as 1,200 AD. In the 19th century, there were more than 9,000 windmills in the Netherlands.
You think Netherlands… you think windmills.
Tom took me to Kinderdijk, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, famous for its 19 historic windmills and ingenious water management system. This place not only offers breathtaking views of beautifully crafted windmills but also stands as a testament to the Dutch mastery of water management in a country below sea level, shaped by the challenge of rising tides. Most of the windmills date back to 1740, standing tall and proud against the landscape.
We strolled along the canals, soaking in the picturesque, peaceful and historic scenery.
I absolutely loved it.
Of course, no visit to Europe would be complete without delving into a little bit of World War I or II history. We made a stop to visit the Canadian War Cemetery, where I took a moment to pay my respects to the fallen heroes. Canadian forces played a pivotal role in the liberation of Middelburg during World War II… contributing greatly to the Allied effort to free the Netherlands from Nazi occupation.
We initially went to the wrong cemetery by mistake. The Canadian War Cemetery was actually the next cemetery over… and a bit farther down the road.
Oops!
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