Day 356 – Haarlem, the Netherlands & Köln and Burgen, Germany (by Lindsey-Lady-Love)
Posted by Lindsey Taylor on Thursday, June 23, 2011
The Events of Thursday, June 16, 2011
“Good morning to you! Boop, boop! Boop, boop! Good morning to you! Boop, boop! Boop, boop! We’re all in our places, with bright shining faces and this is the way, to start a new day!” Mom sang out as she pulled the curtains open. Through my closed eyelids, the morning light was red and bright. While Daddy only switches on the lights and pats us softly, this is our typical wake-up call from Mom. It brought back memories of home and earlier times when Mom was actually awake before the rest of us.
After showering, we went downstairs to the breakfast room. There were only a few other people there, so we enjoyed a peaceful breakfast consisting of cereal, juices, bread, cheese, ham, jam, yogurt, tea, and sprinkles. Why sprinkles? We’re not quite sure, but Caitlin saw a picture in a store in Haarlem that showed sprinkles on butter on bread. Maybe it is a secret Dutch tradition, but this was one tradition that we weren’t too interested in trying. Instead, we put the sprinkles in the plain yogurt to add some crunchy sweetness to the otherwise sour yogurt.
After we gathered for devotions and family prayer time, we held a brief family meeting to figure out how to get our luggage out to the car in an orderly and timely manner. It was raining at the moment, so it seemed like the best option would be to form a “bucket line”. Mom passed the luggage out to Caitlin, who then ran it down the hall to the stairs. There, Daddy would take the piece down the stairs to the lobby where Abby would bring it to the entrance doors to the hostel. Ben would then carry it quickly out to the car in the parking lot and I would put it in the car and position it all so that it would fit. Our laundry has been slowly accumulating over the past week (since our last two lodgings did not come with laundry facilities), so we had a little difficulty fitting that into our trunk. But, soon we were pulling out of the lot, the rain pelting the windshield, back onto the streets of Haarlem.
Bouncing along on the cobblestone streets of Haarlem made it almost impossible to write or read anything, so we just soaked in the flat scenery of the Netherlands. Abby mailed off a letter to the States and then we headed to the motorway, each of us engrossed in our own individual activities. About an hour or two later, we passed a sign that read in German, ‘the Great Republic of Germany’. Mom, who took five years of German, was able to translate most of the signs we passed in this new country. The rain gave our car a thorough washing as we drove and listened to a Rick Steve’s Podcast called “Postcards from Europe.”
We stopped for groceries and lunch in a little town. Ben (who is our German tour guide) and Daddy bought some local produce – gooseberries and cherries. Ben got to try out his German skills and he reported that he successfully communicated with the berry seller about the sweetness of the berries. Then, Daddy and a proud Ben left for more grocery shopping.
We had a little bit of trouble finding a suitable place for lunch, but after three spots that were voted unworthy of a Taylor picnic, we finally found a spot that the majority of us approved. It was a lovely park. Thick, old green trees created a dry atmosphere from the ever-present rain. After crossing a stream on a quaint little bridge, we settled onto two benches for our thrown-together meal of flat bread, crumbly Dutch cheese, salami, apples, pickles, chips, and cookies.
While we ate, we watched the stream slowly pass us and the little ducks swimming around in it. At one point, a huge blue heron came swooping down on the stream, scattering the ducks with his powerful wings. Then, we watched as he elegantly stooped down into the water and came up with a long slithering worm. Nature at work is beautiful to watch.
After driving for another couple of hours, we reached Köln. Germany’s fourth-largest city, also known as Cologne, is most well known for its cathedral, the Gothic Dom. All of us kids learned about it in in the architecture section of the ‘What Your blank Grader Needs To Know’ book. The distinctive gothic arches and windows, we learned, were supposed to draw your eyes up, and to what church is all about: God. No matter how high man builds, God is always higher.
As Germany’s most amazing church, our expectations were high as we exited the parking garage and the cathedral came into view. (Actually we had first seen it from outside the city, more than 10 miles away.) We stood in awe, looking up and up and up. The Dom was a dark grey and black color, matching the equally foreboding clouds above. Behind us was a perfectly proportioned model of the finial on top of the cathedral towers in its original size of 9.5 meters high and 4.6 meters wide. To our left was the original Roman arch, the entrance to (and all that’s left of) the ancient Roman temple that stood here, dating back to A.D. 50. The clouds above threatened to let loose, so we scurried inside the church.
“You are small,” thundered the 140-foot tall ceiling. I know. Our eyes went up and up and up. (That seems to be the theme here.) There is enough stained glass in the windows to cover three football fields. The “swallow’s nest” organ above us was installed to celebrate the cathedral’s 750th birthday in 1998. So, that makes the cathedral … 763 years old, which means that it has been here since the year 1248. That’s a long time. To our left was the Chapel of the Cross, featuring the oldest surviving monumental crucifix north of the Alps, from the year 976. Walking over beautifully detailed mosaics, we made our way towards the high altar.
Behind the high altar there was a glass case containing a big golden reliquary, the Shrine of the Magi. Supposedly containing the bones of the Three Kings, it made the church and the city famous. The Three Kings were the first to recognize Jesus as the Christ and the first to come as pilgrims to worship him. Many pilgrims, since the middle ages, have come to Köln in order to see this reliquary.
After this, we wandered under the dazzling light from the stain glass windows to the exit. Around the side of the church was another entrance. Here was the entrance to the church spire climb. The height of the tower is 475 feet, the number of steps to the top is 533, and the height scaled in the climb is 332 feet. With confidence, we began our ascent. Our feet went up and up and up. The spiral stairway swirled above our heads. The ceiling was short, and the stairway was dark. It felt like we were walking in very small circles around the center of the spiral. The entire area stank of overpowering body odor. I decided to count the steps on the way up. One, two, three, how many steps did they say this was? At about step number 391, we exited to a side hall. The passageway was skinny and dark, so when we stepped out, it took a while for our eyes to adjust.
A huge window of clear glass illuminated the chamber. In the harsh light, we could see one gigantic bell looming in front of us. This bell is known as “Dicke (or fat) Peter” and weighs 24 tons. It claims to be the largest free-swinging church bell in the world. And looking at the size of the thing, I believe it. A total of 48,000 pounds, you could fit 400 Bens in there! We took a few pictures, having difficulty fitting the entire bell into the viewfinder, then, took a stroll around the rest of the chamber. There are a total of nine bells in the bell chamber, including Fat Peter. It was around four when we were about to continue our ascent, when Fat Peter let loose. Actually it wasn’t Fat Peter (he was under scaffolding), but the sound was so loud, that I would be afraid to hear Fat Peter ring! We stood only a few feet away as two of the nine bells rocked back and forth. The sound of the bells rang in our ears. It was an amazing experience.
140 steps later (by my count) we reached the top of the spire (I was only two steps off from the correct amount). The view of the city spread out for miles all around us. The dark smaller spires that circled the larger crown had graffiti from many years of tourists and pilgrims. The Rhine River was a thick squiggle through the building-spotted landscape. After more pictures, we headed back down a different way. I counted the steps again on the way down, but this time, since we descended different stairs, my count was off by 22.
Hot and sweaty, we climbed back into the stuffy car and hit the road again. We drove for another hour and a half before reaching the little Mosel River town of Burgen. It looks like it escaped from a picture book. The little village was framed by the thick forested hills on all sides. Once we arrived inside the town, the quaint, small houses, decorated with flowers and the skinny streets reminded me of where we stayed outside of Florence, Italy. When we arrived at number six, Daddy quickly found a parking spot along the road and he and Ben went to investigate our new house.
The white, cool, three-story house was like heaven. Our last two lodgings have been less than hospitable and this spacious house was amazingly welcoming. It even had a little garden and mini backyard bar and restaurant hut. The only problems were that two things were missing: a dishwasher and a laundry machine. We had dealt with the lack of a dishwasher for the majority of the US part of our trip, but the fact that we couldn’t do laundry was frustrating. We have been accumulating laundry for over a week, not having had facilities since we arrived back on “the Continent”. So, Mom asked for us to gather the bare necessities and threw them into the bathtub to hand wash. We found some string and hung the dripping undergarments out to dry.
Then, Mom and the girls cooked up a fabulous spaghetti and meatballs supper which we all enjoyed immensely. As the sun sank behind the dense tree covered hills, we headed to bed to dream of flowers, quaint houses, cobblestone streets, and a lazy life on the Mosel River.
“Good morning to you! Boop, boop! Boop, boop! Good morning to you! Boop, boop! Boop, boop! We’re all in our places, with bright shining faces and this is the way, to start a new day!” Mom sang out as she pulled the curtains open. Through my closed eyelids, the morning light was red and bright. While Daddy only switches on the lights and pats us softly, this is our typical wake-up call from Mom. It brought back memories of home and earlier times when Mom was actually awake before the rest of us.
After showering, we went downstairs to the breakfast room. There were only a few other people there, so we enjoyed a peaceful breakfast consisting of cereal, juices, bread, cheese, ham, jam, yogurt, tea, and sprinkles. Why sprinkles? We’re not quite sure, but Caitlin saw a picture in a store in Haarlem that showed sprinkles on butter on bread. Maybe it is a secret Dutch tradition, but this was one tradition that we weren’t too interested in trying. Instead, we put the sprinkles in the plain yogurt to add some crunchy sweetness to the otherwise sour yogurt.
After we gathered for devotions and family prayer time, we held a brief family meeting to figure out how to get our luggage out to the car in an orderly and timely manner. It was raining at the moment, so it seemed like the best option would be to form a “bucket line”. Mom passed the luggage out to Caitlin, who then ran it down the hall to the stairs. There, Daddy would take the piece down the stairs to the lobby where Abby would bring it to the entrance doors to the hostel. Ben would then carry it quickly out to the car in the parking lot and I would put it in the car and position it all so that it would fit. Our laundry has been slowly accumulating over the past week (since our last two lodgings did not come with laundry facilities), so we had a little difficulty fitting that into our trunk. But, soon we were pulling out of the lot, the rain pelting the windshield, back onto the streets of Haarlem.
Bouncing along on the cobblestone streets of Haarlem made it almost impossible to write or read anything, so we just soaked in the flat scenery of the Netherlands. Abby mailed off a letter to the States and then we headed to the motorway, each of us engrossed in our own individual activities. About an hour or two later, we passed a sign that read in German, ‘the Great Republic of Germany’. Mom, who took five years of German, was able to translate most of the signs we passed in this new country. The rain gave our car a thorough washing as we drove and listened to a Rick Steve’s Podcast called “Postcards from Europe.”
We stopped for groceries and lunch in a little town. Ben (who is our German tour guide) and Daddy bought some local produce – gooseberries and cherries. Ben got to try out his German skills and he reported that he successfully communicated with the berry seller about the sweetness of the berries. Then, Daddy and a proud Ben left for more grocery shopping.
We had a little bit of trouble finding a suitable place for lunch, but after three spots that were voted unworthy of a Taylor picnic, we finally found a spot that the majority of us approved. It was a lovely park. Thick, old green trees created a dry atmosphere from the ever-present rain. After crossing a stream on a quaint little bridge, we settled onto two benches for our thrown-together meal of flat bread, crumbly Dutch cheese, salami, apples, pickles, chips, and cookies.
While we ate, we watched the stream slowly pass us and the little ducks swimming around in it. At one point, a huge blue heron came swooping down on the stream, scattering the ducks with his powerful wings. Then, we watched as he elegantly stooped down into the water and came up with a long slithering worm. Nature at work is beautiful to watch.
After driving for another couple of hours, we reached Köln. Germany’s fourth-largest city, also known as Cologne, is most well known for its cathedral, the Gothic Dom. All of us kids learned about it in in the architecture section of the ‘What Your blank Grader Needs To Know’ book. The distinctive gothic arches and windows, we learned, were supposed to draw your eyes up, and to what church is all about: God. No matter how high man builds, God is always higher.
As Germany’s most amazing church, our expectations were high as we exited the parking garage and the cathedral came into view. (Actually we had first seen it from outside the city, more than 10 miles away.) We stood in awe, looking up and up and up. The Dom was a dark grey and black color, matching the equally foreboding clouds above. Behind us was a perfectly proportioned model of the finial on top of the cathedral towers in its original size of 9.5 meters high and 4.6 meters wide. To our left was the original Roman arch, the entrance to (and all that’s left of) the ancient Roman temple that stood here, dating back to A.D. 50. The clouds above threatened to let loose, so we scurried inside the church.
“You are small,” thundered the 140-foot tall ceiling. I know. Our eyes went up and up and up. (That seems to be the theme here.) There is enough stained glass in the windows to cover three football fields. The “swallow’s nest” organ above us was installed to celebrate the cathedral’s 750th birthday in 1998. So, that makes the cathedral … 763 years old, which means that it has been here since the year 1248. That’s a long time. To our left was the Chapel of the Cross, featuring the oldest surviving monumental crucifix north of the Alps, from the year 976. Walking over beautifully detailed mosaics, we made our way towards the high altar.
Behind the high altar there was a glass case containing a big golden reliquary, the Shrine of the Magi. Supposedly containing the bones of the Three Kings, it made the church and the city famous. The Three Kings were the first to recognize Jesus as the Christ and the first to come as pilgrims to worship him. Many pilgrims, since the middle ages, have come to Köln in order to see this reliquary.
After this, we wandered under the dazzling light from the stain glass windows to the exit. Around the side of the church was another entrance. Here was the entrance to the church spire climb. The height of the tower is 475 feet, the number of steps to the top is 533, and the height scaled in the climb is 332 feet. With confidence, we began our ascent. Our feet went up and up and up. The spiral stairway swirled above our heads. The ceiling was short, and the stairway was dark. It felt like we were walking in very small circles around the center of the spiral. The entire area stank of overpowering body odor. I decided to count the steps on the way up. One, two, three, how many steps did they say this was? At about step number 391, we exited to a side hall. The passageway was skinny and dark, so when we stepped out, it took a while for our eyes to adjust.
A huge window of clear glass illuminated the chamber. In the harsh light, we could see one gigantic bell looming in front of us. This bell is known as “Dicke (or fat) Peter” and weighs 24 tons. It claims to be the largest free-swinging church bell in the world. And looking at the size of the thing, I believe it. A total of 48,000 pounds, you could fit 400 Bens in there! We took a few pictures, having difficulty fitting the entire bell into the viewfinder, then, took a stroll around the rest of the chamber. There are a total of nine bells in the bell chamber, including Fat Peter. It was around four when we were about to continue our ascent, when Fat Peter let loose. Actually it wasn’t Fat Peter (he was under scaffolding), but the sound was so loud, that I would be afraid to hear Fat Peter ring! We stood only a few feet away as two of the nine bells rocked back and forth. The sound of the bells rang in our ears. It was an amazing experience.
140 steps later (by my count) we reached the top of the spire (I was only two steps off from the correct amount). The view of the city spread out for miles all around us. The dark smaller spires that circled the larger crown had graffiti from many years of tourists and pilgrims. The Rhine River was a thick squiggle through the building-spotted landscape. After more pictures, we headed back down a different way. I counted the steps again on the way down, but this time, since we descended different stairs, my count was off by 22.
Hot and sweaty, we climbed back into the stuffy car and hit the road again. We drove for another hour and a half before reaching the little Mosel River town of Burgen. It looks like it escaped from a picture book. The little village was framed by the thick forested hills on all sides. Once we arrived inside the town, the quaint, small houses, decorated with flowers and the skinny streets reminded me of where we stayed outside of Florence, Italy. When we arrived at number six, Daddy quickly found a parking spot along the road and he and Ben went to investigate our new house.
The white, cool, three-story house was like heaven. Our last two lodgings have been less than hospitable and this spacious house was amazingly welcoming. It even had a little garden and mini backyard bar and restaurant hut. The only problems were that two things were missing: a dishwasher and a laundry machine. We had dealt with the lack of a dishwasher for the majority of the US part of our trip, but the fact that we couldn’t do laundry was frustrating. We have been accumulating laundry for over a week, not having had facilities since we arrived back on “the Continent”. So, Mom asked for us to gather the bare necessities and threw them into the bathtub to hand wash. We found some string and hung the dripping undergarments out to dry.
Then, Mom and the girls cooked up a fabulous spaghetti and meatballs supper which we all enjoyed immensely. As the sun sank behind the dense tree covered hills, we headed to bed to dream of flowers, quaint houses, cobblestone streets, and a lazy life on the Mosel River.