THE DUTCH DIARIES — PART 1
4 min read·Just now
I will never forget the day my husband came home unexpectedly one lunchtime. His face, all churned up, into such a grin that his cheeks overtook his eyes. I knew something good had happened, and I was right! In his hand, he excitedly held an acceptance letter for a fantastic job!
The new position was not just a humungous step up on his career ladder but the jump in salary, to us, seemed like winning the lottery and a new adventure relocating overseas.
The day came when our little family including a toddler, aged two and a baby, four months, packed up our car and left the UK to live in The Netherlands.
We did not have much, we had all of Twenty-Seven Pounds in our pocket! Our belongings were being stored with family who planned to bring them to us when we were settled. Nevertheless, we felt excited about our new adventure. We felt strong, almost invincible at the thought of our new lives!
Aah, youth.
Having driven onto the car ferry and situated ourselves in the lounge on the boat with the rest of the passengers, we realized that this was not going to be a pleasant journey. A few weeks prior to our trip there had been a dreadful catastrophe. At the port of Zeebrugge, Belgium, a ferry boat sank and most of the passengers and crew perished in the icy waters of the North Sea. This was due to the vehicle entrance door not being closed properly. I’ll never forget the anxiety of sitting on that boat with my four-month-old baby strapped to me and my husband clinging on to our two-year-old. It was only when the announcement of the “vehicle entrance door was now securely shut”, that my nerves were soothed, and the adventure began.
Ten minutes later, the reality of spending eight hours in the lounge with alcohol-induced highly spirited individuals, public toilets, and sleep-deprived babies was too much.
We marched off to the reception desk, armed with our twenty- seven pounds, and enquired about the cheapest cabin available. We were in luck, not only was there a cabin available it was only twenty-two pounds! The sound of fireworks and a Heavenly Chorus went off in my head as I almost skipped down the stairs toward our private room. The skipping slowed down as we passed level 4, faded at the sign for level 5, no, not for us. Exhaustion set in at Level 6. Surely it was here! No. Level 7 was to be our home for the next eight hours.
To say the cabin was small and very grey was an understatement. This did not matter. There were two bunk beds and a teeny-tiny bathroom and most of all, not a single highly spirited individual in sight. The fireworks and the Heavenly Chorus in my head began again, This was home.
Even the constant hum of the very close engine room sounded like ‘white noise’. Absolute luxury.
Aah, youth!
The crossing from Harwich to the Hook of Holland was uneventful I would even go as far as to say, relaxing.
We and the babies slept for most of the journey. The two-old thought it was a real blast to see his toy cars roll from side to side of the cabin with every wave that hit the boat. Our little family felt content and cozy in our tiny grey cell. Surely the whole adventure would feel like this?
Ahh, youth.
The journey back to the car was not at all relaxing. Armed with a nappy bag, toy bag, picnic bag, bag bag, and two babies, we ascended the stairs which felt like climbing the North side of the Eiger. (Level 7!)
Not only did we not think about the return logistics to the car we also did not think about the rest of the passengers taking the same route to the car deck.
It was bedlam!!
(Every time we subsequently made that journey across the North Sea, a little older and wiser, we waited for the rush to the car deck to subside before we left our cabin!)
Anyway, we made it. The babies were strapped into their car seats and my husband and I were ready to take our family in our Datsun Cherry onto Dutch soil.
What can be so difficult driving on the ‘other side of the road’?
Our nerves were shot! The journey from the Hook of Holland to our destination of Noordwijk took about an hour of many new milestones. We mastered driving on the right (the UK drives on the left) and narrowly escaped driving into the sea when the road ahead lifted up to let a passing sailboat underneath the road. As you can imagine this was unnerving. We did not understand Dutch and had no idea of this procedure. Even though there was a poster clearly showing the road lifting and a car falling off the edge!
Another lesson learned.
We finally arrived in Noordwijk, exhausted and tired. A couple of dear friends of ours had offered us a place to stay whilst we waited for our rental to be available. My husband turned to me, his face beaming with that same grin that concealed his eyes. Our five-year adventure of brand-new challenges and experiences was just beginning and we both could not be more excited.
ahh, Youth.
Stay tuned for our adventures in The Netherlands. Learning Dutch, the importance of learning Dutch names of animals, Oh, and then there is, of course, DRIVING!
Anyway, if you have enjoyed this blog please feel free to comment. I’ll see you next time for more “THE DUTCH DIARIES”
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