By five o’ clock in the afternoon on 29 June, I was ready to set off. The car was fully serviced and had four brand new tyres, the suitcases were loaded and the ferry ticket was booked. A turn of the ignition key and I was on the road again, this time to the European mainland. I experienced an enormous uplift and a sense of coming out of exile. The countries that I intend to visit are all familiar to me from previous travels, but it has been a long time since I was in any of them; apart from that, there are always new corners to be discovered.
The traffic on most roads so far has been mercifully light; much lighter than I had any right to expect. That’s a blessing, as I don’t actually like driving very much. It calls for too much concentration and you don’t have chance to look around at the scenery. I prefer it when someone else is doing the driving, such as a train driver or the captain of a ship, and I can relax, look around and read. On the P&O ferry from Hull to Rotterdam, smokers still have their own area on Deck 11, and so I naturally gravitated there and quickly got into conversation with a German couple who were returning from a visit to their daughter in Lincoln. I had not spoken German for many years and was pleasantly surprised at how quickly it came back to me. Many mistakes, but at least I made myself understood.
My first destination was the Netherlands, where I have friends and business relations. These are not separate categories; in my work as a freelance translator (which I consider the best job in the world), I am blessed with marvellous clients. We work fanatically in support of each other in a symbiotic relationship. Some of them I had already met in person, but there were still many whom I knew only from contact via the internet or telephone. After too little sleep (they wake you up on the ferry at 6 in the morning, which is effectively 5 am by UK time), I treated myself to a full English breakfast and went outside to smell the salt air and view the Dutch coast as it came into view. I know the Netherlands and its people almost as well as I know England and the English, having lived and worked there for 5 years. It has mixed memories for me; good, bad and indifferent. I like the people, who tend to be humorous, steady, hard-working and reliable, but it is such a crowded land that I wouldn’t choose to live there again.
My friends and colleagues at vertaalbureau.nl. I have been working with this translation agency for over 10 years now, with enormous pleasure. Thier office is located on Steigerijland ('Jetty Island'), a relatively new development in NE Amsterdam. From left to right: Karine, Sandra, Lucille, Wouter, Carla and Susan.
Frits and Myoken at the TXTworks Communications office on Nieuwe Herengracht in the centre of Amsterdam. I have been working with this company since 2007. The work is often of an urgent nature and we encounter some pretty mad situations, but we always get things done on time in the end!
I have never lived in Amsterdam, although I visited it many times before. It is a huge, bustling metropolis that combines centuries of history with constant change, innovation and expansion. The ancient heart of the city was built on wooden piles driven into the soft, waterlogged ground by the banks of River Amstel and you can see the history of expansion in the concentric rings of canals that are now plied by water taxis instead of trading barges. So many old buildings are preserved that you get an enormous sense of continuity. Unfortunately, this impression is jarringly disturbed at present by the cacophony of the traffic and the ubiquitous roadworks and building renovations. The view is blighted in so many places by scaffolding and heavy equipment that the entire city resembles a construction site.
There is also a terrorism problem – from the cyclists. These arrogant and inconsiderate pests ride just about anywhere they like (including pavements), ignoring every rule of traffic and forcing pedestrians to constantly look around in order to avoid being ridden down. What is worse, the pavements are often so blocked by parked bicycles that you have no choice but to walk on the cycle paths!
There is also a terrorism problem – from the cyclists. These arrogant and inconsiderate pests ride just about anywhere they like (including pavements), ignoring every rule of traffic and forcing pedestrians to constantly look around in order to avoid being ridden down. What is worse, the pavements are often so blocked by parked bicycles that you have no choice but to walk on the cycle paths!
Despite these inconveniences, I had a thoroughly good time there with my friends, many whom I saw face to face for the first time, having only corresponded previously via the internet. On Saturday morning it was time to move on. I had stayed for two nights with friends (Susan and Pauline) and they were bound for Groningen for the weekend. Although I had lived in the Netherlands for five years, I had never seen this part of the country so far, so I offered to drive them there. Part of the journey took us across the area known as Flevoland. This is completely man-made, having been reclaimed from the water to provide new land for agriculture and housing. Less than 100 years ago, it lay below the surface of the Zuyder Zee. Surrealistic monuments to the side of the motorway reminded us that boats used to float well above the level of our heads a century earlier. The road continued through the province of Friesland and into the province of Groningen through a flat landscape of fields, woods, farmhouses and small villages, until we arrived at the city of Groningen where I dropped Susan and Pauline off at the railway station. It was difficult to find anywhere to park in the centre of town, so after a brief stop for refreshment I decided to carry on into Germany.
After crossing the border, I headed on a whim for the small, coastal town of Emden. This was for no other reason than the stories I had read about the warship of the same name, a successful commerce raider in WW1. Emden turned out to be a pleasant, well-kept little town. It is in the Ostfriesland region of Germany and quite proud of its Frisian heritage. Although quite ancient (you can still make out the zig-zag pattern of 17th-century fortifications in the town plan), almost all of its buildings today are post-1945 due to the attentions of the RAF during WW2. The Town Hall, fortunately, has been rebuilt almost exactly as it used to be and now functions as the Ostfriesisches Landesmuseum (East Frisian Regional Museum).
On first approaching the town centre, I pulled up at a bar to get some directions and information on parking. The Old Grey One was definitely looking after me again (and perhaps applauding the whimsical choice of destination), because the bar was welcoming, had free internet and – you could have knocked me down with a feather – you were allowed to smoke inside! I returned to it later in the evening after settling into a hotel. It was the rough-and-ready, genuine sort of pub that I like: old men played dice at the bar, two Russians from Siberia played pool and good naturedly fended off a septuagenarian loony who insisted on telling them what shots to make, and a medley of old-time songs blared from the sound system. I heard the locals mention me (“Ja, er ist Englander”) but I was left in peace to compose my blog. The landlord even served me beer at my table.
On first approaching the town centre, I pulled up at a bar to get some directions and information on parking. The Old Grey One was definitely looking after me again (and perhaps applauding the whimsical choice of destination), because the bar was welcoming, had free internet and – you could have knocked me down with a feather – you were allowed to smoke inside! I returned to it later in the evening after settling into a hotel. It was the rough-and-ready, genuine sort of pub that I like: old men played dice at the bar, two Russians from Siberia played pool and good naturedly fended off a septuagenarian loony who insisted on telling them what shots to make, and a medley of old-time songs blared from the sound system. I heard the locals mention me (“Ja, er ist Englander”) but I was left in peace to compose my blog. The landlord even served me beer at my table.
Some views of Emden
Before leaving Emden, I spent a couple of hours soaking up history in the East Frisia Museum. The museum has 4 floors covering the region’s development from the earliest times, through the Middle Ages to the present, with a special exhibition on the lifeboat rescue service. Right at the top you can ascend the tower for a spectacular panoramic view of the surrounding area. In one of the local parks I also found another poignant reminder of Germany’s recent history: a memorial stone listing all the provinces that the country has lost as a result of the two World Wars.
After lunch it was time to hit the road again for a rendezvous with my South African friends Yvette, Fred, Franz and Corli in the neighbourhood of Celle near Hanover. The afternoon was rainy and the motorways very busy, so I was relieved to eventually pull up at Hotel Leisewitz’ Garten in Celle. My friends were still on their way back from Berlin, so I settled and then took a walk around the old town centre. In contrast to Emden, the historic buildings of Celle are remarkably well preserved, with many finely decorated facades as well as the Schloss and the old Rathaus (town hall). The next evening, after I met up with my friends, we dined at the Rathaus Keller among beautiful, antique surroundings.
The next couple of days were spent at their rented apartment in Unterluess. Like many white South Africans these days, they are dismayed by the deterioration of South Africa since majority rule came in 1994. Crime, especially, has reached alarming proportions. Fred, who is of German extraction anyway, has found a good job in his own field of expertise in Germany, and so the family can look forward to a safer and more secure future in Europe. We spent many happy hours together in the evenings, watching the herons, jays and bats fly around as the day drew to a close.
(Photo: Fokuhl public internet in Germany)
During the daytime I worked on translation assignments, although there was a brief but fruitless excursion into Hanover in search of a mobile internet solution. When I immediately found the pub in Emden with free internet, my expectations had been raised. After all, I have found that many pubs and cafés in the UK, the Netherlands and Iceland (at least Reykjavík) have WiFi internet for customers. For the price of a cup of coffee, you can sit in comfort and catch up on work or personal correspondence. Not so in Germany, it seems. Some of the motorway halts have an internet hotspot, but only against payment, and none of the bars or cafés in Celle had internet. In Hanover I looked in 5 separate shops for a ‘surf stick’ that would give me connectivity in Germany and in other countries, but was told that no such service was available. In the end, I marked it down to experience and ordered a package from Abroadband.com to collect when I return to the UK.
During the daytime I worked on translation assignments, although there was a brief but fruitless excursion into Hanover in search of a mobile internet solution. When I immediately found the pub in Emden with free internet, my expectations had been raised. After all, I have found that many pubs and cafés in the UK, the Netherlands and Iceland (at least Reykjavík) have WiFi internet for customers. For the price of a cup of coffee, you can sit in comfort and catch up on work or personal correspondence. Not so in Germany, it seems. Some of the motorway halts have an internet hotspot, but only against payment, and none of the bars or cafés in Celle had internet. In Hanover I looked in 5 separate shops for a ‘surf stick’ that would give me connectivity in Germany and in other countries, but was told that no such service was available. In the end, I marked it down to experience and ordered a package from Abroadband.com to collect when I return to the UK.