1995 - The UnDutchables (4 page)

Nowhere is the sense of claustrophobia more pronounced than in the water-closet. The Dutch have taken the term literally and made that most private of rooms the size of a cupboard. Once you’ve managed to get inside the thing, you then face the problem of turning around to close the door and adjust your clothing. Before seating yourself, you face the dilemma of deciding whether you want your knees pressed tightly against the door or rammed under your chin. Any sense of relief on completion of your duties is counteracted by the realization that you must now find a way to manoeuvre yourself up and out again.

By far the most distressing feature of the Dutch WC is the toilet itself. The bowl is uniquely shaped to include a plateau, well above the normal water level. Its purpose becomes obvious the first time you see (or use) one. Why the worldly, cultured Dutch have this sadistic desire to study the recent content of their stomach remains a mystery. Perhaps it is not the sight of the deposit fermenting on the ‘inspection shelf,’ but the personal aroma that emanates from the depths and lingers in the closet for hours after the offending substance has been launched on its final journey.

The flushing system is a technological wonder—not so much a miracle of hydraulic genius, but more a case of ‘
find-the-flusher
’. The Dutch seem to derive some form of sadistic pleasure in constructing the most bewildering launching mechanisms. Be prepared for any of the following:

• a button on the pipe leading to a high cistern
  
• a button at the front of a low cistern
  
• a button at the top of a low cistern
  
• a lever at the side
  
• a chain, rope or length of string
  
• a foot pedal
  
• a fish whose tail needs wagging
  
• a little boy whose tail needs wagging
  
• a linear motion, vertical action, flapper-valve actuating device (i.e. ‘knob’) that needs pulling.
  

If you don’t find one of these, check for a spring-loaded pipe extending from the bowl to the cistern. If you find one, pump it—don’t worry about your hand getting wet; it’s all part of the game. If nothing works, return to your original location and complain about unhealthy people clogging up the works. Under normal circumstances, it’s good sport; however, combined with the aforementioned aromatic horrors of the venue…enough said!

Whatever happens, don’t pull the pipe extending from the front of a high cistern. This is an overflow pipe which will christen you with a large quantity of unblessed water for the duration of your occupancy. Even if it dripped on you earlier, please don’t break it off now.

The toilet brush is another compulsory component. It is necessitated by the
inspection shelf
and is included in the whole spectrum of Dutch dwellings, both permanent and temporary. After using the toilet, a well-behaved guest will always clean the toilet bowl meticulously with the brush and chemical cleansers provided. From the poorest houseboat to the most exclusive and elegant hotel, the trusty toilet brush will always occupy a meaningful space in the chamber. It is an item accepted by all, mentioned by none, seen to be used by none, yet always wet.

Typical WC decor consists of a birthday calendar affixed to the door; the compulsory plant (heaven help it); reading matter; a can of ineffective air freshener; and an aged, corny sign or cartoon requesting men, pigs or bulls to lift the seat.

Second place for the smallest-room award goes to the kitchen, if indeed a separate room exists for it. This room, or area, epitomizes the Dutch gift for efficient space utilization. In lower income homes, the whole area is cluttered with cooking pots, utensils, house plants and beer crates. An aging, white four-ring gas burner (
gasstel
) sits atop the refrigerator. In higher income homes, the whole area is bedecked with modern appliances (microwave oven, blender, juicer, food processor, etc.), house plants and beer crates. A stainless steel or brown four-ring
gasstel
sits proudly atop the smallest refrigerator.

Also prominently featured/displayed: a wide selection of exotic and ethnic herbs and spices (usually supported by wall charts and guide books), even if they never use them.

No Dutch kitchen would be complete without the coffee corner, a sacrosanct area displaying a drip-type coffee maker (
koffiezetapparaat
), an array of jars and cans, an abundant supply of condensed milk (
koffiemelk
) and a collection of coffee cups, saucers and miscellaneous dwarf spoons. A pack of coffee filters is loosely pinned to the wall.

A small gas water heater (
geyser
) is usually mounted on the wall above the sink and provides hot water for the entire home. This configuration works well, provided only one hot water outlet is used at a time. If you take a shower and the water turns cold, it is probably because someone is filling a kettle in the kitchen.

Favourite pets (
huisdieren
) include:

• cats (to catch mice)
  
• dogs (the smaller the abode, the larger the dog)
  
• fish (observation of which supposedly curbs violence)
  
• rabbits (for the children to cuddle)
  
• guinea pigs (for the rabbit(s) to cuddle)
  
• rats (to carry about town on owner’s shoulder)
  
• exotic birds (to feel sorry for, locked in their cages).
  

A popular pet in country homes is the female goat, an ethnic symbol, to provide milk and cheese (
geitemelk, geitekaas
).

There are about 2,400 houseboats (
woonboten
) in Amsterdam alone. Houseboats became prevalent due to the extreme housing shortage at the end of World War II. They are ideal living places for those who find the average a dutch home 35

Dutch house or
flat
too spacious. A houseboat is usually a shabby, converted canal barge which provides one or two cheap accommodation units. In general, canal boats have no rusty hook hanging from a gable; the
trap
is replaced by an unstable, narrow gangplank; the furnishings remain typical but fewer due to weight and structural limitations; the toilet cupboard is even smaller; and raw sewage drains directly into the canal in which the boat sits. Ventilation is generally poor, heating is by means of an oil-fired stove, and cooking is done on a butane or natural gas hob. All this makes the habitat a potential floating-bomb, and a houseboat home on a busy waterway adds a whole new meaning to the word HANGOVER.

Despite these minor inconveniences, it remains fashionable to reside in a houseboat. Perhaps this stems from nautical traditions. For many, it provides temporary escape from the surrounding brick and concrete. In any case, houseboat living is ‘
ethnic
.’ Even though most houseboats have been permanently retired from their conventional roles and never go anywhere, the owners tend to work incessantly to keep the propulsion system in pristine condition.

In Utrecht, the red-light district basically consists of a row of houseboats.

A GROWING CONCERN

If you want to express thanks, gratitude or sympathy to a
cloggy
, give flowers (
bloemen
, sounds like ‘blue men’). If you would like to apologize or patch up a quarrel, resort to flowers. If you are invited to dinner at a Dutch home, be sure to arrive bearing flowers.

The Dutch offer flowers to each other on all sorts of occasions. Where some nationalities would send a greeting card or others would arrive with a gift or other token, the Dutch say it with flowers. A
cloggy
on a Bicycle with a large bunch of flowers is as symptomatic as a Frenchman carrying a long, thin loaf of bread.

Bunches of
bloemen
should ideally be carried petal-down, in order for the excess water (from their previous abode) to leak through the wrapping and run down your leg. Display the wrappered, soggy bundle in front of your hosts immediately upon arrival. They will transform before your eyes, as the essence of their
cloggy
-being is reflected in an expression of ephemeral euphoria on their faces. A flower-grooming and -rehabilitation ceremony will take place before you are invited to join them in their humble dwelling.

When you enter a Dutch home, be certain to take a machete with you to hack your way through the growth. The Dutch are proud of their obsession with plants and flowers to such a degree that the average living room resembles more a sub-tropical jungle than European living quarters.

When you finally find a place to sit, your gaze will undoubtedly fall upon additional vases of freshly cut flowers, prominently and strategically enshrined in highly visible locations. Further growth is nurtured just outside the windows, in both the front and back gardens where available or, in flats, on the window ledges or balconies. Given the diminished dimensions of a Dutch dwelling, the lovely leaves limit
Lebensraum
to ludicrous lengthlessness.

The image of horticultural Holland is the tantalizing tulip. Yet these tulips are less visible than the purely green goddesses in the domestic environment. Tulips are bought by the bunch, box and bushel, mainly for the benefit of others, or as a showpiece. As with so many other things, the tulip has been made a symbol of Dutchness…
of the Dutch, by the Dutch and for the non-Dutch
. Chapter 19 explores this myth in greater detail.

Needless to say, the flower industry thrives and therefore is a major source of revenue for the country. In parts of the remaining countryside, flower fields resemble a colourful patchwork quilt. Colder months and temperamental genuses are no obstacle to the industry, thanks to greenhouses.

In towns and cities, flower shops, stalls and barrows are abundant—with prices to suit every pocket. Holland is the largest exporter of cut flowers in the world. The flowers are sold daily to vendors at a large flower auction in Aalsmeer. The method used is the democratic ‘Dutch auction’ (called ‘Chinese auction’ by the Dutch) whereby the sellers bring the price down until someone makes the first bid.

Every ten years, a huge horticultural exhibition called the
Floriade
is held in Holland. This is a doubly-joyful occasion for Hollanders since they can bask in the excitement of two of their favourites: flowers and money. Or can they? The 1982
Floriade
lost approx.
HFL
9 million and despite this, it was considered an outstanding success. The reasoning (
clogic
) was that as the actual cost was
HFL
36 million, they enjoyed a
HFL
36-million show for only
HFL
9 million. The 1992 spectacle boasted 2 million bulbs and 3.3 million visitors, but the outcome was still a negative profit. True to form, there immediately followed a simultaneous outpouring of feeling over:

• discontinuing the event, due to the magnitude of the successful losses.
  
• continuing the event (hopefully with less successful losses next time).
  

Amongst the latter clan, there is the characteristic in-fighting over who should be blessed with the prestige of paying host to the next
Floriade
, an event which many
cloggies
perceive as an eighth wonder of the modern world, reborn every decade.

A far more popular event (for the locals) is the
Bloemen-corso
, an annual flower-float parade following a route through Aalsmeer, Amstelveen and Amsterdam, and which takes place in September (outside the normal European tourist season). It is a heart-warming moment to watch the local inhabitants delight in the colourful procession of flowered chariots as they pass by—enthusiasm due mainly to the magnificent arrangements, but also because they are free to behold.

With such large amounts of finances flying, flower filchers have inevitably entered the arena—big time. Organized crime has extracted much profit from the leaf-thief/petal-pusher circuits by stealing bunches of bouquets from flower cultivators and selling them anywhere and everywhere they can.

Horticultural hysteria is not the exclusive domain of petals. Anything green and growing is a certain money-spinner. Plants for home use and vegetables for export also command a large space in the fields and markets.

Acquiring a budding new family member is only the start. Plant paraphernalia (an ornate pot, special soil, humidity gauge, various types of plant foods, leaf shine, etc.) is purchased/upgraded without a great deal of thought for the purse. Whenever necessary, the household horticultural library expandswith do-it-yourself books such as
CARING FOR YOUR FAVOURITE HEVEA BRASILIENSIS
and
1001 FIRST NAMES FOR YOUR NEW EUPHORBIA PULCHERRIMA.

It has yet to occur to the Dutch that all this growing of flowers and house plants wastes good soil that could otherwise be used to grow crops. The crops could be sent to the starving masses in Africa, a popular subject for more protests in Holland (see Chapter 11). The world now waits with bated breath for the Dutch to protest this abuse of their assets.

One may think that incessant production of tulips, trees, tomatoes, turnips and ‘taters would have rendered Dutch soil almost barren by now. Indeed not, for the regular application of cow crap (
mest
) and other fertilizing agents has kept their hallowed ground rich—until recently, at least.

Fields are becoming polluted with the residue from the 95 tons of manure, annually donated by the 17 million cows and pigs (four-legged variety) that inhabit Holland. There’s just too much
shit
there.

Eager to capitalize on the prospect of florins for free faeces, provincial authorities have set up ‘manure banks’ for deposit and withdrawal of the stinky stuff. To guarantee success, bank charges are levied on all transactions, and the whole nonsense is government-subsidized. The latest word is that the
shit
banks are becoming a nationalized industry ‘…to promote efficient use of the surplus.’

The whole issue of the
mest
mess commands more news space in Dutch dailies than the greenhouse effect (which some learned circles believe is partly caused by those same animals and their bovine belches).