Purely dutch vacation
Do not go on vacation for Dutchman – disgrace for life. I was told about the family, which, without sure to get money on vacation, held it along with the children in a specially equipped cellar in the depths of the garden, – if only the neighbors did not suspect that they spend a vacation at home. The Dutch is craving for outdoor activities.
Unlike us, which during the holidays would lie somewhere and so that no one touches, the Dutch is terribly animated for a month in a year and eager for the feat and overcoming obstacles. As soon as leave comes, the soul of the Dutchman boils up with a bubble passion, and the ashes of old pirates, adventurers and seawozers knocking in his heart.
In short, when my friends Anna and Simon invited me with them on vacation, I experienced something like a sacred trepidation, for was admitted to the most important area of Dutch life. Holidays My friends are equally carried out equally, for it is inextricably linked to the Hobby of the Head of the Family – "in peace" architect.
Simon collects. ships. Not toy, but the most real – those that furrow the water of the seas and oceans, as well as Amsterdam canals. I must say that there can be no question about any investment of capital here, because more than once, Anna grumbled on her husband, all means exof of the subsistence minimum of a sweeping in his flotilla. Currently, Simona has five ships – from a small rusty sudine, on which he bypassing the canals, to a huge sailing schooner, one hundred years ago transported goods of the Ost-India Company. In winter, this shelling monster stands on joke near the house, which is a part of the picturesque Amsterdam landscape. And in the spring, Simon negotiates with the municipal authorities about the extracurricular raising of the bridge, and the ship goes to the open sea.
On this ship and conduct Anna’s vacation with Simon and two of their children. Previously, they took with you two cats – one with the mysterious name of the floor of Europe and her mother, which, in accordance with the circumstances, is called that Muder-Pus (which means the cat-cat), then Puder-Mus (which means something intuitionable). However, the cats used to run to the shore or climb on the very top of the 13-meter mast and do not desire from there, and in general turned out to be in the most unsuitable places. Last summer, a short-sighted Anna when leaving the gateway, he found an ebony sculpture on a post-gateway post, which the cutlery accepted for the ever-faded floor of Europe. Dangerous hanging over the water, she grabbed the sculpture for the shkir, which was really a cat, but only someone else’s. Almost all vacation they shouted to the rugers with all the oncoming ships, did they disappear with their cat. In the end, the wind submits to them, that somewhere next door swims the ship with a luckless lady, mourning a missing loss of his cat. The ships managed to meet, the transfer of the cat occurred, on a solemn case, the captains crushed the bottle of the National Dutch Drink Yenverver, but from now, Anna burned to bind to the sea with cats.
Little Lady Company as part of Anna, I am with my daughter and girlfriends Annina younger daughter with a strange name Shura left the Amsterdam early in the morning to get to the ship drifting somewhere in the North Sea, for the vacation of Captain Simon began a week before. Our path lay on the north of Holland – in Friesland, where Friezy live, still talking in the language, which no one, besides them, does not understand, and where heat and romantic, as in the former Jurmala. This is the Northern Province of Holland, where the time of the centuries came out the most zealous jealous of the Calvinist faith, which in the forgotten civilization of Friesland nobody prevented sullenly and conscientiously to establish relationships with all the dissatisfied Calvinist God.
An hour later, we left for the famous barrier dam, a 30-kilometer ray binding the province of Nord-Holland with Friesland and the allocating the whole country from the permanent Nautical Sea. This, in my opinion, the most amazing work of the Dutch, in the creation of the Earth who assigned the Lord’s authority to themselves, structured from 1923 to 1933. During the war, part of the dam was attensely blown away by the Germans, from which about half of the country almost instantly went under water, as the main territory of Holland on average three meters below sea level. Only being on a barrier dam, you understand that there is Holland in fact, as unreliable and zyibko, its existence: a country that gave the legend about the ghost ship, herself at the time of the evil location of the creator risks turning around the waters of the revenge of the sea. We rushed along the launched computerized rollers; on the left, holding back the North Sea, tesuled somewhere over our heads, a steep embankment went up for several meters up, on which, not embarrassed by her steepness, walked well-keeled, like a doodle fur coats, sheep, and the horizon spread the same color as the right Ghostly-ghostly waters locked in Eiselmer Bay.
During all 30 kilometers of the dam, the Gulf Gulf of Bay foamed from the shore with white swans – they, then fascinating the feeling of eternity, frozen a snow-white faience on a gray water, then suddenly smoked up up with thick duck ass with red lapties.
Moving a complex system of gateways, we drove into Harlingen – toy outpost on the tip of Northern Europe, all in the tile and lace gingerbread houses. On the falling out of the gingerbread ensemble of an ultramodern marina already prisonered a buzzed cloud of chaps a powerful ferry. On the ferry Anna, smiling slyly, warned that we will be morally preparing: the ship stands on the sea near the deserted shore of the island of Flield, and, if there is a sampling, you will have to get to him on foot – "Mercian", Raspitously rolled it Amsterdam "R". And in the case of a tide, Simon with all the amenities will take us to the ship by boat. In general, no problems. Very romantic. This is an adventure! In any case, there was nowhere to retreat.
Shocks began at the pier where Simon met us. For a week from a decent man in a tie, he turned into a completely wild Robinson: His usually laid gray hair was filmed with a juniper bush, and the gaze was burning with Flibuster fire. Our non-stroke cavalcade has reached along the only street village Ost-Flyland, "capital Cities" Islands Flyland. Motion of vehicles on the island is prohibited, tourists move here either on their two or bicycles, or on semi-sides, decorated with bows and ribbons. Having leaving all things in the cart, Simon performed in the role of the horse himself. At the same time, for some reason he did not pay any attention to my hefty suitcase, – probably because he was also on the wheels, and I walked it myself followed by a sharp pirate in the allyur. Passing the village, we went out in "Pure field".
Tight arc of the coast hugged the sea – or rather, the fact that he left him, for the sea rigged his waters somewhere behind the horizon, near the line whose black point loomed. As we approach the shore, she gained the outline and eventually made a very small ship on the distant horizon. Topping the highest point left the nude seabed – a Skilisian meadow, whisked by residences, whether algae, whether some naval worms and wilderness of seashells swollen up up with sharp jar of sash.
– undress! – Having fun Anna and, noticing my frozen glance, picked up: – Well, isn’t it romantic.
– By the way, – simon picked up, meanwhile in colorful cowards of a poorest color, – for the local dirt on the resorts they pay a lot of money.
– And things? – I thought squeaks, vividly presenting himself bonding on the belt in healing dirt with a damn suitcase on the head.
– Let things stay here, – Anna replied with a smile. – After three hours, the tide will begin, and Simon will take them to the ship on the boat.
Simon, cheerfully shipped down the stone plates, the pioneer stepped into the dirt, which, greedily choking, immediately saw his leg on his knee. Waving a bag with foods on the feeder, it, with every step, feeling in front of him the foot of a press space, duck down towards the ship.
And we had to drink this bowl to the bottom.
Removing everything below the belt, except, sorry, panties, we walked "grin" Holy Breyghel Verena. Over us, silence of gogoze, circled cloud chaps. As the suitcase is removed, the ship was approaching, and did not go and half an hour, as his bloated side Navis over our heads. Next to the ship by Drachlova Pug, drawn by the leash of a honeymoon owner, in a muddy puddle launched on the chain boat. Climbing the ship was supposed to be closed on a narrow rope staircase, and, without trusting anyone from the bottom, I climbed the last crossbar, ranked four couples extended from dirt feet.
On the launched deck of everyone expected a bucket for the abyption of the limbs and "Borrelety" – "Ryumashka" – in honor of the arrival on board expensive guests. Watches at nine in the evening the ship swung, and, choosing from the melting machine oil, the captain’s cabin, we are dumbfounded. All the mud space tightened the clear waters of the sea, on the waves of which hedied seagulls and wicked ducks with famously swirling crested, explained to us, explained to us Anna, who was found only at the coast of the Flyland Island, announced by the National Reserve, and therefore, the birds shot here forever Forbidden. From the distant shore, despair Simon with our things.
In a day, refueling food, as if for around the world, we went out into the open sea, holding a course on Amerend Island. Our ship spread the sails and, in the literal sense, rocking the old man, went to cut the waves, why we took the spirit and we felt like heroes Jules Verne. Behind the steering wheel, Captain Simon, who looked into binoculars and served the team Anna, who performed the functions of the Boatswain, Lotsmana, sailor and jungs, not counting the Holy Debt of Wife Captain and Ship Coca. Anna Snokovisto spun and twisted thick ropes, as a result of which a huge sail moved from one shipboard side to another, not clinging, as we, land, for which it fell, ripped out from the stern on the nose and back, while not forgotten to bring the captain "Borrelety", So that the orange buoys in the water seen the water – Dutch, by the way, the word. Both of them were what they also needed with a map of nautical shames and a little careless, as the kneading sea wolves, explained to us who were in full admiration than they are currently occupied.
Then the wind verse, the sails were removed, Simon turned on the antediluvian motor who sawing the voice of nervous vapor, and our captain’s cabin was shook, as in Luchanka. The journey on the motor lasted more than an hour, when we suddenly, the battered from the roar, found that hearing only splashes waves, and the ship stands on the spot as the inspected. At the deck in the extreme embarrassment, Simon was fusing, and Anna, elegant in the pose of the fashion model for a folded sail, in a feline shouting through the cigarette smoke, said that "Our valiant captain put the ship on the sandy back".
Very soon we guessed that "Zandrew" – literally "Sand back" – in our means "Mel". From the horizon blinked to us by the Lighthouse of the XIV century Island Tershelling, in still other parties as far as the eyes poured the North Sea, indifferent to our problems. Simon, having shifting the mountain of reference books and cards, with a guilty smile reported that the level capable of removing us from the meli, the water will reach only in two weeks. In the meantime, we have to cook in the middle of the sea, unless, of course, enough fresh water stocks. I did not decide to ask what happens if there was not enough fresh water. On the tiny outbreaks flooded in the distance, they have repeatedly reflecting the sunlight of the glass, – we looked at us in binoculars, which was terribly injured Simon. "Think, like, fetching apartments, once in the sea, nothing is sense", – quietly mumbled, pouring himself "Borrelety" per "Borrelety".
Summary began, and soon our ship was in the heart of the island rising from water. In perfect purity, the sand was flickering the pearl of shells, and we, shocked by the stored beauty by beauty, wandered all the evening by shames among albatrosses from the size of the Zaradanaya turkey.
On the third day we lost the bill. Simon ended Portverin, and he closed in the sullen silence. My daughter for the third time with disgust began to read "Robinson Cruzo", as if in a mockery of the closed ship. The island with our ship on the crest of a sandy wave, then pop up from the sea, then again divered into the water.
Salvation came on the fourth day in the form of a huge orange inflatable boat, which abundance of antennas and blinking buttons brushed to a spacecraft from a science fiction film. The boat was four grenadier growth of Krasavtsev-Rangers, as it turned out, a few days we have looked at us from Tershelling. They wondered through the mouthpiece whether we were delivered to the sandy back or, maybe we will get to drown from there? Simon Shearagteel Something quickly quickly in the seabed, the handsaws moved to our board and for a long time folded the numbers: for salvation it was necessary to pay. Simon cleaned in the back of the head, poured rescuers "Borrelety", eventually hit hand. The boat was thrown on a hefty rope and included the installation, which, lifting the clouds splashes, began to blow off the sand from under the bottom of our ship. All operation took about an hour. First, our ship rocked, as if the tooth in the gum, and then with a heavy sigh bucked forward for the Ranger boat sinking. Under our thanksgiving screams, rescuers were smelled, and we continued our way.
We spent the rest of the vacation, drift in very warm waters of the North Sea near Amelend Island, created by the creator clearly in the excellent location of the Spirit. On the palm of the island lay a tiny, who did not change from the Middle Ages the town, and the locals in the national costumes, as if the mystery of eternity was solved by the mystery, spent each tourist with a smile of Dutch Sphinx.
Golding a couple of days in the harbor and enjoying all the joys of a civilized holiday, we again walked on anchor in the healing dirt among the chaps and other lovers of romance, which in Holland, as it turned out in the end, like the rest, had quite materialistic roots: in the harbor for Parking required to pay. And in the healing dirt romance got nothing. That is the main pleasure for the nursed in the saline water of the village of practical Dutch soul.
