A nice weekend

<- Picture of a big apartment building (detail) under construction at Papendrecht, a town near Rotterdam (covered with wind-protecting foil), taken during our voyage through the Netherlands this weekend



Saturday 24 February we headed in the afternoon for Oirschot, a wonderful village between Tilburg and Eindhoven.

The weather was gloomy, one shower after another and no sun at all that Saturday. We had dinner at “Hajé”, a nice and cosy road restaurant, without that plastic and red-and-yellow atmosphere that most of these facilities have. On the contrary, all furniture is in wood, old and believe it or not, for sale. This entrepreneur made his restaurant both restaurant and furniture shop. If you buy a table, you can take it with you or let it deliver, and he will replace it by something else that’s also for sale and the same holds for the chairs, the decoration pieces etc. If you are travelling in Holland and you want a nice and cosy rest place, then this is the place for you. I admire the owner because he took over an almost bankrupt road restaurant, when this restaurant wasn’t located along the highway anymore due to its reconstruction along another route. Two predecessors didn’t manage to keep it profitable, but he did, and how! We arrived at Oirschot in dark and had some trouble in finding the Beukenhof , despite our detailed maps we had with us. It was really a nice place, something to return to at future occasions. It offered the comfort of a 4-star hotel, only less formal, with bigger rooms, no bath (only shower) and no restaurant: it was “only” bed-and-breakfast. Many sculptures and paintings, not the mainstream-taste as you see so often in hotels, contributed to an agreeable interior experience. (I could write a brochure for them I realize now).

We got up early and headed for Bergeijk, from there we went on to Postel. There we attended the Holy Mass, impressively old-fashioned with Latin Gregorian chants, and a spiritual sermon. After the Mass we visited the abbey restaurant of course, after which we had a walk in the surrounding woods and abbey gardens. (See above). Near the abbey there was also a typical Belgian “little street” of fried-potatoe-sticks stands (in the UK they call it “chips”, in the USA “chips” are round thin slices, in the UK they have a stick form, elsewhere in Europe they are called “patates frites” or more commonly “frites” (pronounce “freet”). Its awful odour spread all around the place, and its enjoyers were sitting, standing or walking through the street. I once read in a culinary column that fites should not be eaten in a restaurant, but are most enjoyable in a cold and gloomy environment with cold wind, a desolate parking lot, at the counter of a sober “frietkot” (frites sales stand). Well, here all these conditions were met, but we didn’t feel any appetite for this calorie-rich delicacy.

We also visited Turnhout, but although the town was nice and medieval in its impressions, the weather and the closed shops (all cafés were open however) weren’t really inviting for a long stay. Here you see a typical Belgian picture (it couldn’t have been taken elsewhere in the world) of a statue of the Holy Virgin amidst commercial and traffic signs on a café outside wall. I find it “typical” for Belgium because it tells you something of the way religion is integrated into their easy-going culture, that only on its surface seems to be easy-going and casual, but in deeper layers it houses grief and a tendency to flee into festivities and folklore. In previous ages, the Flemish people suffered much from the Church’s and nobility’s co-operative oppression, but they remained loyal to their shared faith. Even at the Mass this Sunday, there were a count and countess who were memorized by the priest and prayed for by the audience. Hugo Claus, a famous Flemish novelist, wrote a wonderful novel about it: “The sorrow of Belgium” (“Het verdriet van België”).

In Oisterwijk, after a visit to an old family member, we enjoyed the dinner, far more copious than we were used to, but that’s the way it is when you go out for dinner once every six months or so.

The other day I went on my own to Oirschot early in the morning to get some cash because that was the only way to pay at “Beukenhof”. Of course I took some pictures of the huge church, that one would expect in a big city but not in such a small town. At my return, the inn-keeper told us something about Oirschot. In the Middle Ages, when Tilburg and Eindhoven didn’t exist yet, it was one of the main cities of Brabant (next to Brussels and Den Bosch). It even had a medical faculty, and high nobility found there one of her dwelling places.

After checking out we went to Tilburg, to visit a modern arts museum, but what we already suspected was true: like all musea in the Netherlands it’s closed on Mondays. We then walked along the Goirkestraat (Goirkestreet, pron. Gorkestralt), the street where I lived during my sociology study at Tilburg University. Here you see a picture of the house: I lived in the attic, with windows at the other side of the house. The window at the right side belonged to the room of someone who is now a high official at the United Nations, the window at the left side belonged to the room of the current president judge of the court of Amsterdam, where big companies such as ABN-AMRO and Stork go to for disputes and disagreements between shareholders and boards of directors. Both are examples of people who start with minimal opportunities and use their talents and hard work to get where they are now, serving other people and society on top level. From the U.N. housemate I learned “how to behave like a gentleman”, from the president judge I learned how to persist and not to have my opinion ready the first time I hear or read something. 100 Meters further to the Southe in this street there is a graveyard next to (again) a monastery, guarded by angels, one of them pictured by me.

Then we drove home, experiencing the “East-West, Home Best” poverb after our arrival.