Bloemenveiling Aalsmeer

Billing itself as the “global marketplace for flowers and plants”, the daily Bloemenveiling (flower auction) at FloraHolland is truly something to see. That’s just what we did early on Friday morning. (“Early” being the operative word. The auction begins in the wee hours so distributors can take possession and get the flowers to their final destinations as soon as possible.)

Waiting for distribution

Located in Aaalsmeer, south of Amsterdam, the Bloemenveiling has become a tourist destination, but

long before that it established itself as the largest flower auction in the world. Every day flowers arrive from all over including Kenya, Ethiopia, Israel, Ecuador, Germany, and, of course, the Netherlands; and every day some 20,000 varieties of plants are sold at auction and exported to world-wide destinations. (The FloraHolland website lists the following top five destinations: Germany, Great Britain, Italy, France and Russia. Germany made both lists? Seems odd!)

Let the bidding begin!

It moves fast...real fast!

I’ve seen the operation and I’m not sure I believe it! Under the fourth largest (by floor space) building in the world (10,600,000 square feet; 243 acres!) literally millions of flowers are delivered (a seemingly endless convoy of tractor-trailers), graded (30 separate inspections), packed on to multi-tiered palettes, and attached to a monorail. The endless stream of palettes wend their way in front of one of two auditoriums of hundreds of bidders who have literally seconds to decide and bid. Quickly tagged by auction employees, palettes are detached from the monorail and quickly retrieved by employees using electric trolleys and taken to designated areas (depending on the distributor) throughout the warehouse. From there, rows of similar varieties of flowers are arranged, and when a full caravan is collected, the palettes are attached to one another, and larger fork-lifts are used to pull the loads to waiting trucks on the premises. In what appears to be an incredibly complex process, the math is fairly simple, by virtue of the volume—(deliver, grade, auction, take possession, distribute) X millions = a daily routine that almost defies description.

Gwaz on the tourist catwalk

Later in the day on Friday as Gwaz and I wandered through a street market in Amstelveen, we noticed at one of the vendors the by-now familiar FloraHolland logo on the crates of flowers. Gwaz pointed it out to me, reached down to a bundle of tulips and said, “Oh hello; I think we saw you a couple of hours ago!”

Ant hills aren't this busy!

                   

      

Alphons Freijmuth

Not long ago it warmed up long enough, barely long enough, for one truly enjoyable afternoon at an outdoor café. That was the collective signal for winter-weary Amsterdammers in every corner of the city to hit the bricks. That’s exactly what we did. In fact, by the time I showed up, Gwaz was wedged in among the sun-cravers sipping the countless variety of available beverages; and she wasn’t alone. Unbeknownst to either of us, then, she was talking to Alphons Freijmuth.

Who’s Alphonse Freijmuth? I might have wondered the same thing if I hadn’t spent the better part of the next three hours talking everything from Rembrandt to Nazi occupation during the 1940’s to his art. You see, Alphonse is a preeminent Dutch modern artist. In his circles, Alphonse is well known. To us, he is yet another exceptional Dutchie, one willing to share a few hours and seven decades of his life experiences.

I fully intend to take him up on his offer to narrate a tour of the Frans Hals Museum in his hometown. I fully intend to take him up on his invitation to call him and visit his studio, which luckily for me is a short walk from our apartment. And, most importantly, I fully intend to use my short time with him as inspiration the next time I stare at a blank canvas with a brush full of paint.

On that sunny March afternoon, sharing a beverage or two, listening to Alphons, I was well aware of our good fortune. Alphons is not shy. In fact, he is as bold as his art. Blessed with a keen intellect and sharp memory, he described his art and his world travels. As he told us one particular story, Alphons laughed out loud. He remembered the day in the 1960’s when he told his New York audience where he was born. The Manhattan modern art crowd had a hard time believing him when he told them he was born and raised…in Haarlem!

http://www.freijmuth.nl

http://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alphons_Freijmuth

http://www.galeries.nl/mnkunstenaar.asp?artistnr=1870&vane=1&em=&meer=&sessionti=347773334

Requiescant

“We strongly advise you to co-operate in your own interests.” 

–The Jewish Council. 8 Jan 1942 in letters to those Jews 

identified for transport to “Dutch relief camps.”

In a living example of the “rock and a hard place” metaphor, the Jewish Council of Amsterdam was given the impossible responsibility to identify Jews for transport according to the parameters and quotas of the German occupiers. As such, thousands of Jews reported for “unavoidable duty” lest they suffer “worse measures”.

"Jewish Quarter"

It is important to differentiate between the Nazi death camps (Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen, Mauthausen, etc.) and the labor camps like Drendt in the Netherlands. In early 1942 the Jewish council was issuing what they described as “urgent advice” that failure to comply with the German orders was by far the lesser of two evils. The labor camps, despite evidence of increasing brutality, had yet to earn the reputation they deserve. One Jewish Council member reported that, “all in all, the workers are very satisfied with the conditions and the treatment they receive in the camp.” An inmate wrote in a letter home that the food was “fairly good under the circumstances.”

“We repeat, what you are asked to do is ordinary relief 

work in ordinary Dutch camps under ordinary Dutch instructors” 

–The Jewish Council.

Jews did as they were told.

Did the council know the truth? Did they believe unfulfilled promises that “leave” would be granted to deserving workers? Did they know the alarming mortality rate due to starvation and exposure? Certainly they knew that things were worse than they appeared; but it is imperative to remember that they faced the same reality of non-compliance in addition to owning the responsibility to reduce the inevitable “worse conditions”. In other words, they filled the German quotas by selecting Jews who would most certainly die. Failure to meet quotas meant retaliation resulting in the mass slaughter of many, many more. The rock and the hard place.

Bikes were confiscated

 In January 1942 100,000 copies of a supplement to the publication De Vonk (The Spark) informed its readers that “the so-called unemployed (Jews selected for transport) had been sent to what amounted to concentration camps” furthermore that they and eventually all Dutch Jews would be sent to Poland for extermination. Regardless of what the Jewish Council knew or believed, their efforts on behalf of the Jewish population can simplistically be labeled as a futile series of stalling tactics. They filed formal complaints regarding the German failure to grant leaves from camp. They were told that when Jewish reaction improved, leaves would begin. Again, it is impossible to know what the Council actually believed.

 “If you refuse, we shall no longer be able to do anything for you, 

and you yourself must bear full responsibility for the consequences.” 

–Jewish Council, April 1942.

By April the tone of the statements released by the Jewish Council had changed. With the hindsight of 71 years we know that the vast majority of the people transported did not survive, and we know the fatal consequences for those who refused and were captured. There is little wonder why those who refused chose one of only two alternatives to transport: suicide or hiding. By May it was ruled by the German Delegate’s Office “no Jews fit for work and below 60 or 65 years would be allowed to remain in Amsterdam.

Nazi Recruitment Poster

Until July 31, 1942 the Jewish Council fulfilled its gruesome task of selecting people to fill the German quotas. (One estimate suggests 4,500 per month.) By then the Council’s delay tactics and persistent appeals for clemency grew tiresome to German authorities, which ruled that the selection process would become the responsibility of non-Jewish doctors. Efforts to avoid transport included everything from supplying urine from diabetics to bribery; but quotas were filled. As Jacob Presser, author of Ashes in the Wind: The Destruction of Dutch Jewry and a person selected for transport, wrote, “If Nazi doctors got the job every examinee would have been given a one-way ticket to Mauthausen.” (In fact, later, when Nazi doctors did make the selections, no medical exemptions were granted.)

On page 111 of Ashes in the Wind, Presser writes, “In the light of the approaching catastrophe, all the other German measures during the first half of 1942, however unpleasant, can only be regarded as so many pin-pricks.” He continues, “(The Dutch Jews) would have to die, all of them, some almost at once, but none before they had been driven to extremity, humiliated and robbed of their last belongings.”

Almost every day, and certainly every day I pass the Jewish Lyceum behind our apartment, I consider the horrors of Nazi occupation. The damage is irreversible, and the scars are invisible. The more I know, the more I want to know; then, I almost wish I didn't.

Olympisch Stadion

In 1928 Amsterdam hosted the games of the IX Olympiad. Evidence of those games remains in the form of the Olympisch Stadion, built just for the occasion, and the tiny museum inside. With an original capacity of over 31,000, Olympic Stadium seems small by modern standards. In 1937 seating was increased to over 64, 000 when a second level was added, however the latest renovations  (1996) reduced the stadium to its current capacity of 22,000. It is now used mostly for track and field events.

Over the years, Olympic Stadium has hosted events in track and field (the introduction of the 400 meter track became the international standard), field hockey (India won its first-ever gold medal in men’s field hockey in the ’28 Olympics—and the next five!), cycling (the ’54 Tour de France began here!) and football (home to several important “football” clubs including AFC Ajax, which last used the stadium in ’96). Perhaps the most famous football match ever played at Olympic Stadium was the 1962 European Cup final in which Benifica bested Real Madrid 5-3.

The 1928 Olympics saw the debut of the Olympic flame, a staple of every games since. (The torch—used to light the flame—was first introduced in the ’36 Berlin games.) For the first time the parade of nations began with Greece and ended with the host nation. Even Tarzan (Hollywood’s Johnny Weissmuller) won two gold medals in swimming. The ’28 games was the first Olympiad in which women participated in track and field events (despite the protests of the French president who cited the possible negative impact on the child-bearing capabilities of female athletes!) The Amsterdam games featured 2,883 athletes (2,606 men/277 women) from 46 countries. (Compare those tallies with 2012 London games: 204 “Olympic committees” and 10,000 athletes!)

Koninklijk Paleis Amsterdam

The Royal Palace in Amsterdam

The massive building now known as the Royal Palace in Amsterdam was built in 1648 as the town hall, place administrative and judicial authorities maintained offices. It was conceived by local architect, Jacob van Campen who was commissioned to design a larger more suitable town hall, one that reflected the city’s impressive status as the prestigious financial center in the most powerful trading nation in the world. Van Campen’s task was to proclaim the city’s supremacy and prosperity as a reflection of God’s creation, and believe me, one tour of the first floor (which is what is available to tourists these days) is proof enough that he fully understood his mission.

The Grand Hall

The renowned sculptor, Arus Quellinus and a small army of artists, sculptors, and masons worked for 14 years to produce a truly astounding display of artistry—making reality from van Campen’s designs. When it was finally opened for business in 1655, the building was locally referred to as the “8^th wonder of the world.” The Dutch poet Joost Vondel called it the “Crown of Creation.”

As the town hall, the building belonged to the people. According to our audio tour, it would not have been at all unusual for the great hall to be completely full of Amsterdamers on rainy days, which as you know can be quite often around here. All legal matters were handled in the town hall—crimes/executions, civil disputes, tax collection, debtors’ court, custody of orphans, etc. In fact, in 1656 Rembrandt himself appeared before the authorities in this very building because of overwhelming debt. Thanks to the ruling, a complete inventory of Rembrandt’s possessions was ordered. That same inventory serves as an important historical reference for art historians (although one might forgive Remmy if he failed to consider the future benefits. Declared bankrupt, he lost his home and all of his possessions.)

Left behind by Louis Napoleon

In 1806 Napoleon’s brother, Louis Napoleon was proclaimed King of Holland. In 1808, he converted the prestigious town hall into his residence. The transformation from municipal offices to royal residence included millions of guilders worth of decorations and adornments. Offices became bedrooms; cells became wine cellars, and all of it at the expense of the Napoleonic Empire. In 1813, the French Empire expired, and Louis left behind a wealth of opulence including priceless art, furniture and furnishings; furthermore, the building was returned to the city of Amsterdam. The new Dutch King, Willem I used the building as his residence at the prompting of the city council.

Because of shared use and minimal interest shown by the Royal Family, by the 1900’s the legal question regarding ownership of the building became a public debate. In 1935, the city of Amsterdam sold the building to the State of Netherlands for ten million guilders. The State, in turn, offered permanent use to the Royal House.

Solomon knew best

These days the Koninklijk Paleis Amsterdam is one of three palaces used by the Dutch Royal House, mostly for state visits, awards ceremonies, and official receptions. The Royal Palace in Amsterdam has also played a major role in royal weddings, abdications, and royal inaugurations, as it will again on April 30, 2013 when Willem-Alexander, Prince of Orange assumes the crown from his mother, Queen Beatrix.

(Willem-Alexander will become the first male monarch to accede to the Dutch throne since 1890 when King Willem III died leaving the throne to then Princess Wilhelmina. She abdicated in 1948 and was replaced by her daughter, Juliana. Juliana abdicated in 1980 allowing Beatrix to become queen. The official shindig marking the inauguration of Willem-Alexander as King of the Netherlands will happen, as it has so often in the past, right here in the Koninklijk Paleis Amsterdam on Dam Square.)

Princess Maxima and Prince Willem-Alexander

Leiden and "Het Leidse Loper"

Burcht van Leiden

Knowing that it received “city rights” in 1266 almost makes it easy not to realize that the rich history of Leiden is much older. The earliest reference to “Burcht van Leiden” (Castle of Leiden) was around 860. Leiden’s old. Like almost every Dutch town, it has its share of waterways including rivers and canals.

Located at the confluence of the old and new Rhine Rivers, Leiden is home to about 120,000 people unless you count the roughly three times that amount that live in the surrounding area. Leiden is not tiny by Dutch standards, but it feels small. Like so many places in Holland, it is easy and perhaps quite natural to miss completely the historical, social, economic, or artistic significance of the places along the way. Our day trip to Leiden showed us first-hand how easy it would have been.

  

Because Leiden is the birthplace of its most famous native son, Rembrandt Harmenzoon van Rijn, I wanted to find (if possible) where that was. (First an interesting clarification: his name tells everything needed to know in those days—the ones before surnames. He was given the name “Rembrandt”. The suffix “–zoon” indicates “son of”. He was “Rembrandt, son of Harmen”. Which Harmen? The last two words tell where Harmen lived—“van Rijn” (of Rhine). Rembrandt Harmenzoon van Rijn, was “Rembrandt, son of Harmen, who lived by the Rhine River”. Cool, right?) To find my man’s stomping ground, we checked out the Tourist Information Office. I’m glad we did because that’s where we learned of The Leiden Loop.

Sometimes keys...

The Leiden Loop is a walking tour. It is perfect for tourists, like us, who want to know what they’re missing. "Het Leidse Loper” is a series of 30 sites, which took us three hours to find (including two “warm-up” stops and some elbow exercise). Along the way we couldn’t help but notice two icons of Leiden: keys and sheep. The Loop helped us understand why these two images appear so frequently around town. In 1121 the Count of Holland built a chapel dedicated to the apostle Peter. The Pieterskerk (Peter’s Church) became Leiden’s first church. The keys so often associated with St. Peter as the keeper of the pearly gates can be seen in the coat of arms of Leiden as well as all over town. (Our walk became a Where’s Waldo game for Gwaz…”I know those keys are here somewhere, now let me see…”)

It might be hard to find an American who is completely unaware of the Pilgrims who traveled to the New World on the Mayflower and landed at Plymouth Rock in 1620. It might be just as hard to find those who know that those same Pilgrims began their journey by sailing from Leiden before stopping in Rotterdam for provisions. The Pilgrims worshipped in The Peter’s Church and met there one last time before departing. See? Who knew?

Het Lakenhal

sometimes both!

Here’s one…in addition to the images of keys throughout the city, we saw sheep. Sheep in statues, in paintings, on buildings…sheep obviously meant something. On our tour of the loop, we learned that Leiden was famous for its cloth industry. Before being shipped, cloth had to be approved by inspectors. In 1639, the Lakenhal (cloth hall) was built for this purpose. Today it stands as a museum dedicated to the proud heritage built on the backs of…you guessed it…sheep.

Het Waag

Because Leiden has no central market, goods entered Leiden on flat bottom boats. Before distribution, there was always the issue of taxes, therefore everything had to be weighed. Famous cities like Amsterdam have just such a place, so it was no surprise that Leiden’s Waag (weigh house) stands in testament to the clothing industry. Again, the casual tourist might miss the significance of this once essential building.

Without the Loop we wouldn’t know how the Van der Werf Park came to be. On January 12, 1807 a ship fully loaded with gunpowder exploded, destroying an entire residential district. With thousands injured and many dead, the site of the disaster remained undeveloped for many years. In tribute, “the Great Ruin” was converted into a park in 1884. (At the center stands a statue of Pieter Adriaanzoon Van der Werf, a hero of the Spanish siege of Leiden in the 1500’s.)

Leiden University

Holland’s first university was founded in Leiden in1575. Its very first building, a chapel of the Dominican nuns, is still used for lectures and special occasions. As is sometimes the case on our excursions, something special happens, as it did when we approached the university. With my face pressed against the viewfinder of my SLR and Gwaz reading the text from our tour book, we barely noticed the two men standing on the bridge adjacent to the school. It was the formal attire of the younger man that first drew my attention. He was wearing a tuxedo with tails and no overcoat, which was far more conspicuous on a cold day in February. He held a bouquet of red roses and a green packing tube while his companion took his photo. I was busy being nosy when he turned to me and asked if I would use his camera to take the picture of both men. He said, “And make sure you get the building.” Slowly (no one ever accused me of being an astronaut) I realized the importance of their circumstances. One thing led to another and he explained that he had graduated from the school of music—the tails, the roses…the tube (containing his diploma)…duh. His “companion” was his father—the pride on his face proof enough.

February was the wrong season for the Hortus Botanicus, canal cruises, or outdoor cafes, so Leiden is back in the rotation, for sure.