Along the Oudegracht

At the end of the school day, Jani and Rolf rode their bicycles through the polders to Rolf’s boathouse in the Oudegracht. The sun shone brightly, bringing people out to enjoy the day.
In the old canal, boats shared the waterway like cars on a street. Motorized boats buzzed along the narrow river as paddleboats weaved between them. In the riverside cafes, people ate and drank while they shared the comfort of conversation.
People crowded the streets, too. Jani and Rolf dodged in and out of traffic, passing bicycles and pedestrians alike. Crowds gathered on the bridge overlooking the river. Jani and Rolf stopped their bikes atop the bridge and leaned over the stone guardrail.
A paddleboat drove in small circles on the water below. It was a muziekboat. The boat’s captain brought a trumpet to his lips and began to play. His trumpet sounded out a waltz, which bounced off the walls of the canal and echoed through the Oudegracht. He finished a verse, then put down his trumpet. He quickly pulled a tin whistle from his vest pocket and played another song, like a chickadee twittering in the trees.
“I love this,” said Jani.
“They do this all the time,” said Rolf.
“Here in the Oudegracht, but we never get this kind of excitement near my house.”
“We get it every day and every night,” said Rolf. As music played, people crowded towards the guardrail. Jani and Rolf jumped off their bikes and walked them along the Oudegracht.
Draft horses clopped along as they pulled a barrel wagon. Just in front of the boathouse where Rolf lived, the barrel wagon stopped near Rolf’s boathouse. A man in tuxedo and top hat hopped down from the carriage.
He went around to the side of the barrel wagon and pulled out a bench. He sat down and began to play on a piano built into the side of the barrel wagon. Instead of piano, the sounds of a calliope rang out.
A semi-circle of onlookers pooled around the man and his calliope. His music reminded Jani of the merry-go-rounds, with all the bells and whistles.
When four o’clock came, the bell tower at Dom cathedral chimed out in the distance. Heavy church bells boomed out harmony to the calliope player’s melody. Rolf and Jani locked their bikes to a streetlamp and left the calamity of the Oudegracht. Inside the houseboat, it was a different world.
“Goede Avond,” said Rolf as he entered the houseboat.
“Hallo, Rolf! Hallo Jani! How was your day?” she asked.
“Good. The Oudegracht is busy today,” said Rolf
“It’s always busy,” sighed Mrs. Van Heeswijk.
“There was music in the air,” said Jani.
“That too,” sighed Mrs. Van Heeswijk.
“The muziekboot was in the canal and there was a barrel wagon just down the street. I really do like the calliope,” replied Jani.
“If you think the calliope is exciting, you really should watch a carillonneur.”
“What is that?”
“Not a what, but a who. The carillonneur is the one who plays a giant piano. Instead of striking strings when she presses the keys, the hammers strike heavy bells.
“We heard the church bells, too,” said Jani.
“Actually, the bell tower is a giant carillion.”
“Someone sits in the bell tower all day and all night?”
“Nowadays a machine plays the carillon in the bell tower. But, sometimes there are exceptions. Instead of gently pressing the keys, the musician pounds the keys with the sides of her closed fists.”
“I guess that would be something,” said Jani.
“It’s just so noisy,” said Mrs. Van Heeswijk, “there’s never a moment’s rest.”
“You don’t like it?” asked Jani.
“Like the rest of the low country, everything is crowded together. Houses and people packed together like books on a shelf.”
“It’s not like that in the polders,” replied Jani.
“The polders are a different story.”
“What do you mean?”
“A good deal of the polder isn’t suitable for building.”
“Isn’t the Oudegracht part of the polder?”
“The Oudegracht was one of the first pieces of land reclaimed. The Netherlanders built canals throughout the country to drain the water back to the sea. We fight the battle with the sea every day.”
“But we live in a houseboat?” asked Jani.
“It’s a friendly fight. The Oudegracht is part of the old Rhine River. It connects Rotterdam and Amsterdam to Utrecht. All the major rivers, like the Maas and the Stelde, connect each part of the country to another. Your father does business because of the water.”
Like Jani’s father, Mr. Van Heeswijk worked as a truck driver. Instead of the smaller single-load truck, Mr. Van Heeswijk drove a heavy tractor-trailer, often gone from the houseboat for days at a time. Mostly, he transported tulip bulbs from the inland flower farms to the major ports, like the Hague and Amsterdam.
Because of the water, the soil was moist. Because of soil, flower bulbs could be planted. Because of the bulbs, tulips could grow. Because of the tulips, the Dutch became traders, known for their world famous seaports.
“That reminds me! Where is Mr. Van Heeswijk?” asked Jani.
“He’s making a delivery in Amsterdam.”
“Oh?” asked Jani.
“Did you need him for something?” asked Mrs. Van Heeswijk.
“No, not really,” said Jani as his mind wandered aimlessly.
“You could leave a message if you want.”
“It’s getting dark, I think it’s time to be getting home,” said Jani. His voice trailed off.
“I’ll see you soon. Have a safe ride home.”
Jani nodded and walked outside. Rolf went with him, unlocking the bikes. “Were you thinking about Ajax and Utrecht?” asked Rolf.
Jani nodded.
“Well get going. If you find out anything, be sure to give me a call, okay?”
“You know I will,” Jani reassured him.
Rolf stood by the boat, watching Jani’s bike speed into the night. Jani pushed on the pedals with all his might, sprinting towards his house. Instead of Rolf’s cross-country path, Jani cut through the cobbled back streets. He drove his bike up and down curbs, through alleys and between buildings. He reached his house with little energy to spare.
He walked straight through the house and pushed the door to the workshop wide open. Mr. Van Heeswijk and his father jumped excitedly. They stood on opposite ends of the workshop. Each man working on a separate piece of household furniture.
“You’ve got to quit doing that, Jani,” sighed his father.
“I’m sorry,” said Jani, “I just wanted to know if you bought the tickets.”
“What tickets?” said his father.
Jani frowned.
Mr. Van Heeswijk reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out four blue stubs. “These tickets?”
“Yes, those tickets,” smiled Jani.
“Do you think I was going to pass up an opportunity to go to a match?” said his father.
“I wasn’t sure.”
“Now that we did this favor for you, you have to do a favor for us.”
“Sure,” said Jani.
“Don’t tell your mother anything you’ve seen in this room.”
‘You got my promise.”
Mr. Van der Veld smiled at his son as he rubbed his mop of hair. The men had a laugh until the sound of footsteps came from the stairway. The men hurriedly flung plain sheets over the furniture. They folded their arms and leaned against the cloth-covered squares.
“What’s going on down here?” asked Jani’s mother.
“Nothing,” said Jani. Mr. Van Heeswijk and Mr. Van der Veld simply shrugged their shoulders.
“An awful lot of commotion for nothing,” grumbled Mrs. Van Heeswijk. She approached the cotton covers. Her husband stepped forward, guiding her away.
“Alright then, I’ll fix dinner, but don’t expect me to make it taste good.”
Jani followed his mother into the kitchen. Mrs. Van der Veld turned to him. “What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” answered Jani.
“You just remember what your Great Grandma Gertrude used to say, ‘Stubbornness is only good for mules,” she said with a huff. Jani remained silent.
By the time Mr. Van Heeswijk left for home, Jani went to his room and relayed the good news to Rolf by phone. Although they were both Ajax fans, neither one had been to a match in Amsterdam.
Mr. Van der Veld found out a long time ago that Mrs. Van der Veld was not good at keeping secrets or being patient. Her curiosity always got the best of her. So much so that Mrs. Van der Veld ruined more than one birthday during mid-afternoon searches for hidden presents. In an attempt to outwit her, he wrapped one gift and taped it to the inside of the chimney. Unfortunately, he lit a fire, burning the new leather jacket to a crisp.
Hopefully, the gift for Mrs. Van Heeswijk would be different. Mr. Van der Veld had another surprise, too. Mr. Van Heeswijk was safely keeping mother’s Christmas surprise.
While mother cooked in the kitchen, Jani finished his homework. The smell of baked food filled the house. Jani hoped that dinner tasted half as good as it smelled, because it smelled like the best dinner she ever made.
Jani poked his his head into Trudy’s room.
“I think dinner’s ready.”
“I’ll be there in a moment,” she replied.
In fact, mother had cooked a fantastic bilkerbrij, one of Mr. Van der Veld’s favorite dishes.
Mrs. Van der Veld picked up a spatula and divided the casserole dish into squares. She placed the mash of liver, cheese and potatoes on each family members plate. She picked up the platter of haddock, and ladled bits of buttered fish beside the bilkerbrij.
As everyone dug into their meals, Mrs. Van der Veld looked over her happy eaters. Mr. Van der Veld finished his beer, but before he could ask for a refill, Mrs. Van der Veld got up and went into the kitchen.
Moments after she disappeared, a series of sounds came from the back of the house. First, there was the jiggling of a metal hinge. Second, two loude booms, as if a klompen was kicking at the woodshop door. Thirdly, a shout.
“Gil!” she shrieked. Mr. Van der Veld just shook his head and chuckled. Mrs. Van der Veld popped around the corner and glared at her husband. Her fists balled and her arms straightened.
“Don’t you trust me?” she asked.
“Of course I trust you,” answered father.
“Then why is the workshop door locked shut?”
“Why were you back near the wood shop?”
“I just…I…um…Oh!” Mrs. Van der Veld clunked over to her chair and sat down, folding her arms in front of her. Mrs. Van der Veld was a cunning gift-spy. Luckily, Mr. Van der Veld had figured out most, if not all of her tricks.
Jani snickered first, followed by a giggle-snort from Trudy. Soon, the entire table, including Mrs. Van der Veld, was laughing heartily.
“You got me this time Gil, but you better be careful.”
“I think I’ve seen all your tricks, dear.”
“You haven’t seen all of them,” she smirked.
The lines had been drawn. Whenever the Christmas season neared, Mrs. Van der Veld would begin her quest. This year, the battle of Christmas Surprise hide-and-seek had begun a month earlier than usual. In the coming days, Trudy and Jani would be in for quite a few treats.