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“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.

—Trinity Falter

Our hostel in Amsterdam was located inside of Vondelpark, a wonderful location, because if there was nothing else to do you had a gorgeous park to just chill out in. There were people from all over the world staying in our hostel. We were making new friends every day! Most people only stay in hostels for up to a couple of days, but we were there for two weeks, meaning everyone working there was on a first name basis with us. I really enjoyed our stay at the Stay Okay, they were very hospitable and helpful. Amsterdam was very touristy, but you never found yourself without something to do. If you have a chance to go, I advise that you take it.
After our two weeks in Amsterdam, we packed up our bags and headed for Rotterdam, the shopping capital in Holland. Rotterdam was not at all as tourist-oriented as Amsterdam. There was still plenty, if not more things, to do there though. We stayed in another Stay Okay (The Cube Houses), which were very nice, especially since we were the first group of people to check in to them. We very quickly felt at home in the hostel and with the employees. If we were not out shooting, on excursions, sitting at the hostel or shopping you would most likely find us at our favorite place, Bagels and Beans. They have some of the best bagels and I would not be surprised if the staff could name what drinks most of us order each time we are there.
I have become very use to living with the group of students on this trip. It will be weird to be back home, waking up and not having breakfast with them every morning. I have completely adjusted to the Dutch lifestyle and do not want to convert back to my old ways. This has been a fantastic experience and I would highly recommend it to anyone who asked me.

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(Matthew Zing) I think that this is the most interesting, or at least the most difficult aspect of Europe to understand and relate to: the fact that not but sixty years ago, World War Two was raging on here in Holland. How could we possibly know what that must feel like, us being from such a inexperienced country, relatively speaking? How could we know what it is like to have grandparents, or mothers and fathers, that realized and survived the Nazi occupation of their country, the carpet bombing of their city? I think that I never thought about the proximity of the war to our own generation for precisely the fact that the United States, save Hawaii, were unaffected by it, never touched by a holocaust or an invasion by a foreign army. But here, there is the very house Anne Frank hid for her life (I almost cried), German bunkers, scorched clock towers and completely rebuilt cities. What do we have at home that could remind us of such a past besides vague stories from veterans, stories that seem to come from an alien world, a time detached? In the states, the war comes off as legendary, almost mythological, and I certainly don’t mean in a entirely positive sense. But there is a deafening truth behind these stories that we might never be able to understand. They are not stories but actualities that define the lives of millions. I feel lucky, as if I’ve grown up among various advantages. Yet guilty as well, as if my life might be incomplete, and it scares me to think, that to be whole, I need horror, trauma and death. But these are the things, that without, our lives would lack in beauty.

It worries me too that I never thought about this when I was in Slovenia. Let me be clear. It does not bother me that I never thought of the second world war while I was visiting Slovenia, seeing as it wasn’t as affected to the same degree. Rather, being fully aware that Slovenia and the rest of Yugoslavia was very recently embroiled in civil war and genocide, I failed to grasp the scope of what that meant to the country and its people, how that must have altered their culture and overall idea of life and humanity. And now I feel like I missed out on a large part of that trip. However, I believe I’ve made up for it, taking careful precautions to be perceptive to Holland‘s history, and it is not easy. You must be open to it; your heart must be as wide as possible. Sometimes it is hard to imagine, and when I look around me and try to piece together a suitable interpretation of the past, I get dizzy. It is like being in the presence of an impossibility, an intangible force, and coupled with the fact the this past was indeed a reality, that there are living and breathing people, buildings, non-buildings, museums and bunkers that can testify to it, my emotions, and my conceptions, have become unbelievably acute.

My advice: learn some of the language, not out of necessity or convenience, but out of kindness, respect and love. This is the true value of travel, to communicate and in doing so, you discover that there are all kinds; all kinds of people, good and evil, foods, cultures, music that, while varied, share a quality that is beyond any translation and is sufficient without words.

—Matthew Zingg

This was an amazing experience. Being immersed in another country has given me a better understanding of the world we live in. It is so surreal to be here so far from home. I am so thankful for the eclectic mix of personalities and how well we all mended together. This was quite a bonding experience. Everyone got along so well and we could all go out as one group. Everyone here was so easy to talk to. The instructors were flexible and catered to our needs.

By now (the last week), everyone is so comfortable here. We can all get around and know how to navigate in and out of the city. Being here for a month, you really begin to feel a part of the culture and no longer a tourist. You don’t get in the way of the bike lanes and understand the nature of the flow of traffic which can be a little overwhelming when you first arrive here. I am so thankful for being able to partake in this amazing trip of a lifetime and making the friends that I did. I still can’t believe it went as well as I did and even my high expectations were surpassed by the reality of this trip. Thank you so much Emily for being such a great instructor!

—Dylan Kahn

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Here is a series of photos that I have photographed over the course of study here in the Netherlands, so needless to say, I can be thrifty, or I might be cheap, but it never stopped me from taking great photos of this terrific country.

—Ryan Farmer

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— Andy

—Todd Duren