Day 26 - Haarlem

It doesn't take long to clear ourselves of the city's busy-ness. Past Scheveningen we enter the Hollands Duin, beautiful wild dune lands spotted with lakes and the occasional beech forest. There's another interesting story here about how the Dutch work with water. In the 19th century, the city of Den Haag drew from these sweet water lakes to service its growing population. By the 20th century the lakes were going dry and the remaining water no longer good to drink. Since the Dutch are good at moving water around, they started diverting water from the river that flows through the city back into these lakes. The water filters through the sand base, where it's collected as sweet clean water that can be used by the city residence. Thus these wetlands are sustained both for wildlife and human needs by a bit of clever Dutch ingenuity.

It's Sunday and the fietspad and walk trails are full of people. A sense of nostalgia accompanies our ride as memories of all the places we've seen and stayed waft through our memories. It's hard to imagine not getting up every day to go on a long bike ride to some new destination.

The fun puppet sculptures at the beach in Scheveningen

Hollands Duin

Lunch in the dunes.

We take an instant liking to Haarlem. In 1202, the city got its start with a population of just 9,000 people. For the next seven centuries its residents numbered in the tens of thousands. Today it sits around 160,000, still big but not as overwhelming as The Hague (800k+) and Amsterdam (2m+). Back in the 1800s, when Amsterdam's waterways were getting too putrid (fresh sewage and other garbage), the rich moved to Haarlem, which got dubbed the "bedroom community" of Amsterdam. Today, it appears to still be so: full of elegant two and three story houses dating around the 19th and early 20th centuries, lovely old parks, and a thriving center that's managed to keep its old world charm -- and the towering sky-scrapers out.

The massive De Grote of St. Bavokerk te Haarlem, a five hundred year old gothic style church plopped in the center of the town square, is currently surrounded by vibrant outdoor restaurants and bars, cackling with people. Back in the 18th century, Mozart and Handel visited the church to play its phenomenal organ. "Let's go inside," I proclaim, having seen a u-shaped arrow leading around the church to an entrance. A placard in front of the formidable wooden doors announces evening Vespers services at 7pm on Sundays throughout the summer. We're in luck! It's Sunday and it's 6:45pm! We accept the offered program, find a seat midway back and take in the august surroundings.

Three white-robed women line up holding musical scores. A suited man stands at a small organ. A black-robed young priest sits to the side. As the service commences, all in Dutch, the three sopranos send their a capella chants high into the rafters -- angelic. Midway through the service, the centrepiece: the Invocatio: "Dona Nobis Pacem" for viola and organ, composed by Heinz Wunderlich (1919-2012). The female violist and a hidden organist playing the grand church pipes toggle stanzas of one of the most moving organ pieces we've heard. The music sails through the church interior, singing off its thick stone walls and landing smack in the center of our beings.

"Dona Nobis Pacem" for viola and organ, composed by Heinz Wunderlich (1919-2012)

We're not quite sure how to move or to be in this world when it all comes to an end. But our original intent was to find a place for a final dinner, the last supper of our trip. Re-entering the exterior world, with all its noise and distractions, food and alcohol, and people making merry on a Sunday summer's eve takes some time and a reality check (which was more real??). But eventually we find an elegant Indonesian restaurant with a sumptuous menu and a quiet outdoor setting. We toast a round to the last night of our amazing journey.