Missing Holland
July 14, 2009“All the pathos and irony of leaving one’s youth behind is thus implicit in every joyous moment of travel: one knows that the first joy can never be recovered….”
— Paul Fussell
(Todd Duren) We’ve been home over two weeks now, and it’s good to be back. Karen is happy to have me home, and I see my daughters every morning, not just via Skype or The World’s Worst Cell Phone Connection. Home is where the heart is.
Home also means comfort. Our screen porch in the morning, the din of birdsongs, coffee steaming in the porch swing. My roomier shower. My free wi-fi. My air conditioning, my car, and my flip flops. By now I’ve unpacked, filled in the rest of my journal, tallied receipts, told stories, and shown pictures to friends. Things are back to normal. Almost.
This morning after coffee I found myself posting to my Facebook page that I’m “heartsick for Holland.” Wow. I wasn’t expecting this. Our Going Dutch trip was a great experience—one that I’ve been planning for a year. Why then am I surprised to miss it so much?
There is no reason to be surprised at the tug of beauty, pleasure, and friendship. It’s no surprise to miss the murmur of several languages at the breakfast table, and the cheerful “brrinng brrinng” of bicycle bells: “Goedemorgen! Step aside or be run over!”
And it’s no surprise to miss the magnificent view from the Westerkirk belfry, the quiet beauty of a Vermeer, the bright Modernism of a Mondrian, or the soaring sculpture of the Erasmus Bridge.
Also the Dutch people are also worth missing with their eager English, practical bicycles, and friendly, open manner. There’s Tomas Mahu, the design educator we met in Breda who gave us a personalized tour of the Gaphic Design Museum. Or Borris and Fabio, two Rotterdam artists who took me to a Rockabilly festival wearing powdered wigs. And there’s Sergio, the Vondelpark bartender whose parents named him for the Brazil 66 bandleader.
And it’s no surprise to miss teaching bright, funny, and engaged students—any professor’s dream. All our students came with impressive accomplishments and future prospects: Lindsey who’s turned a failing first semester at a community college into a full scolarship at Vanderbilt. Teela and Lydia, former students of mine who won National Addy Awards while we were abroad; Farmer, who talked his way into shooting photos from the tallest building in the country; and Matthew and Trinity, both attending prestigious schools in the fall. If a teacher, as Emerson wrote, is an opener of doors, these students have flung doors completely off the hinges.
And anyone who knows me understands why I would miss a sparkling Glass of Leffe Tripel Bock, fresh from the tap, the foam raked off flat with a paddle. They might understand too why I would miss calling out typefaces as I walk past signs, seeing bicycles locked to every post and railing, watching windmills, eating salami for breakfast, keeping track of two time zones, and even the minimalism of living out of a suitcase for a month.
So I check my Facebook page again to find a sympathetic comment from Teela. I guess it’s no surprise after all that my heart aches for Holland.
August 18th, 2009 at 12:33 pm
As I look back on my summer experiences, I too find myself nostalgic for the time we all spent together in Holland. I want to thank you, Todd, for all the work you did to make the trip possible for all of us. The friendships made and the experiences shared will stay with us forever and will continue to influence us for a lifetime.