I took Michael to Maastricht for his birthday. Maastricht is a town in the south of Holland that is heavily influenced by its surroundings, that is to say, Belgium. We stayed at an amazing hotel, the Herenkruis hotel, which was once a church and a convent. You walk through a shiny-penny copper tunnel which opens into what was once the main processional church area. Below is a red velvet bar, above is the restaurant. The ceilings paintings are preserved .There are these sort of jelly-fish/white-blood-cell looking lighting fixtures hanging from the ceiling. The woman who checked us in also escorted us personally to our room to make sure it was to our liking. The rooms are where the nuns used to live. You still feel there presence there. However, I don't think the nuns got to enjoy double thick frosted glass sliding japanese-style doors or the exquisite bedding or rain shower.
We went to dinner at Au Coins des Bon Enfant and chose the six course option. Every course, every flavor, was surprising, exquisite, bright, artful. It was one of those experiences in life that you'll remember forever right along with your first crush, a big promotion, those rare and indelible moments. The service was precise, attentive, formal, but not hovering. We ate outside like everyone else else that night. It was one of the top five best meals of my life and even with wine one of the most reasonably priced.
We were on a high for several days after that dinner and not just from the calorie intake. We discussed and wrote down every ingredient we could identify in every course. Maastricht is a two hour drive from Amsterdam and just to know it is there saves me from getting depressed about dining experiences of ALL price ranges in Amsterdam, where sushi is served buried under mayonnaise, that water you asked for is never remembered, and where restaurants like the lovely Siempre in de Pijp employ waitresses that need to be chased down where you ask ever so timidly if you might finally order, where an order for flan is recorded, but runny creme brulee is presented instead (when this is brought to the waitresses attention, she claims she was "confused", that they don't actually have flan, and will not care to admit that she truly, utterly, and thoroughly does not give a shit, and that any egg-based dessert at all should be good enough...), and where you feel grateful that the bread was finally brought to the table after having to ask for it only three times, not four.
Anyway.....
Michael and I went through these caves created from quarrying stone. It's a 25 kilometer labyrinth, completely dark, and filled with stories and charcoal artwork on the walls. A guide takes you through with lanterns. It was a hide out during WWII where a system of was created for water and food sources, as well as a system to find the other people in your tiny village within the complex maze. We ended our weekend at the top of a foothill overlooking the gentle waves of meadows and countryside.
I was making conversation over lunch with some colleauges including someone working from our corporate offices whose mother had recently passed away. We were discussing the merits of cremation vs .burial. One of my colleagues mentioned that she intends to be buried and already bought her plot outright . She's in her early 30s. She explained that by far she is the youngest in her family and she bought her own plot to ensure in the future she would not be dug up by strangers .
Naturally, we asked for an explantion.
She told us that in Holland, if you choose to bury someone, you can rent the space out for a limited amount of time, or buy it as a permantent space. That way, if the family would like to visit departed oma resting comfortably her six-foot under accommodations, they may do so during the grieving period, perhaps a year or ten years...there are options. Then after the time is up or no one cares to renew, the casket will be exhumed, cremated or perhaps otherwise disposed of, and a new tenant moves in.
This is yet another example of the Dutch's relationship with the land. It is something to be utilized, manipulated, and shared. It is also an example of Dutch practicality. It's nice to be able to visit a dead relative at a grave site but let's face it, it's a tiny country with a dense population. You can't keep dredging water just to produce more below-sealevel graveyards. And when no one who knows you is still around to lay a tulip on your tombstone...time to vacate.
