The “Strippen Kaart”, A Nostalgic Look At A Dutch Legendary Treasure.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The last thing that I want to talk about from our visit to  “Het Haags Openbaar Vervoer Museum” (the Hague Public Transport Museum) is a metal yellowy-orange box that anyone who has lived in the Netherlands will recognise instantly.

It’s the stamp machine that was used to stamp the famous “Nationale Strippen Kaart”.

For decades these cards could be found in millions of Dutch wallets and bureau drawers to be used as payment for rides on the busses and trams all around the Netherlands. They were also valid payment for a few train lines too.

On each tram or bus (and information board at each halt) there would be a list of all the halts on that route.

The stripper card system was that you would count the number of halts to your destination, add one and then stamp of that number of strips from your strip card.

So one halt would be two strips, two halts would be three strips etc. Additionally there was a time element and a zone element to the system as well.  Between two and  four strips (1 hour /between 1 and 3 zones), five and seven strips (1.5 hours / between 4 and 6 zones), …between seventeen and twenty strips, (3.5 hours / 16 or more zones).

It sounds complicated but if  you have to travel into the centre of the city and the journey would cost you four strips, but your errands there took less than one hour, you could either return home on the same strips without re-stamping, or go on to a new destination (worth four strips or less) within three zones of the original stamp.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

An inspector on the tram would be able to look at the time on the stamp and know where (which zone) and when you got on the tram, thus work out if you needed to stamp again or not.

Of course there were fare abusers, they were often conspicuous by the fact they that would prefer to stay standing as close to the stamp machine as possible, even when seats further down the tram were available.

Their standing position meant they could see if uniformed inspectors where waiting to board at the next halt to inspect the tram, then they would quickly stamp their cards to avoid a heavy instant fine.

The inspectors often boarded trams in mufti and knowing this trick pounced on these people first when doing an inspection.

Of course I heard the fare avoiders say ” it was only this one time” but everyone knew they were lying through their teeth and they dodged fares constantly.

Before we saved up and bought our car, I used the tram to go to work and saw more shenanigans than you could list. Certain routes and particular halts were prime targets for fare dodgers, raids by inspectors were carried out accordingly.

On one of the trams I took to get to work, the same girl got caught four or five times in a month,  the spot fines exceeded at least six months of travel, so cheating the system certainly wasn’t cost efficient, for her at least.

Later on I got an “abonnement” where you paid for a monthly card and could have unlimited travel within the zones you had paid for, within that month.

I eventually switched to the car after having children because getting to the daycare centre that my work subsidised, was so far out of my way via public transport that it cost me an extra hour each way. By car it cost me about fifteen minutes.

The “Strippen Kaart” came in three sizes: the blue Fifteen and Forty-five strip cards for adults, a pink half priced Fifteen strip card for senior citizens and children eleven years of age or younger, and finally, a small two strip card that the driver would issue if you came to him when you got on because you didn’t have a card.Getting a strippen card from the driver was by far the most expensive way to travel so was to be avoided where ever possible.

The regular blue and pink Strippen Kaarten were available to purchase from every tobacconists, supermarket and bookshop, so most people bought two cards at a time, you used one, and as soon as you started the second one you would buy a new “spare”.

Although I used the car for work most of the time, occasionally Himself would need the car and I would use a strip card for the tram. I still had a “spare” adult and child card in the drawer when I had my accident, and I haven’t been on a tram since, so after the Strippen Kaarten were phased out I was left with a couple of pristine cards that might well be worth something one day.

Today the Dutch travel on public transport with electronic “OV Chip” cards, which I have also not used to date because the nearest tram halt is beyond my pain threshold on crutches. Himself and the kids do use the new ones though, especially for trips to the centre of town where parking can be a nightmare. In the meantime I find a certain nostalgia in these old cards… as do many Dutch people I suspect.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Photograph above: (old) 45 strip adult card, photograph below: 15 strip child/senior citizen card…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(New) 45 strip adult card, note the black edging…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(old) 15 strip adult card…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Next… the card(s) you buy from the driver… if your fare falls between card values ie 5 strips, there will be no change given, you pay for three cards (six strips). Not a cheap way to travel…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The first OV Chip cards (these are one time use paper ones) there are plastic ones that can be topped up…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The two new 15 strip cards I found with the rest… I will keep them for nostalgia’s sake…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

15 strip adult cards… three different editions, fare increases and different styling…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

15 strip kid/ senior edition, price increase and new styling…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The oldest card in my collection… sadly used and not in mint condition…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The stamping machine, usually 3 (or four) in each tram… in stations also outside at tramhalt… everyone remembers jumping on a tram in the rush-hour and the flurry of “peep” noises that the machine gave when each card was stamped successfully one after another. You had to fold the card over in the right place to put it into the machine, that’s why so many of my strippen kaart are bent up…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Calculating the number of stops and thus how many strips to stamp off…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The Water We Play With And Then Throw Away…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Today’s post is a yet another illustration of something else very typically Dutch: the aqueduct.

The national stereotype  of a country filled with canals is there for a reason, because the country is filled almost end to end with canals and waterways of all shapes and sizes.

Most people of course know about the famous Dutch sea defences, that’s lesser known is that in a country that is largely below sea level and thus with a water table that’s higher than the surrounding land, that it’s necessary to continually pump water off the land twenty four hours a day, three hundred and sixty five days of the year. And the extra day in Leap years.

There’s an entire Government department dedicated to water management. During storms, cloud bursts and long periods of rain, teams of experts monitor water levels around the country.

If it rains hard in the upper reaches of the Rhine River in Germany and flooding starts, all that water has to go somewhere, and that somewhere is going to to be further down-stream in The Netherlands. Every single Low tide, water that has been pumped off the land is emptied into the sea.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The Netherlands is like a little boat with a slow leak that’s always requires bailing.  That’s why  twice a year we have a problem with the high Spring and Autumn tides. If these occur at the same time as large storms the sea level will be so high a low tide that the pumping out of the stored land water can not take place.

Many of the Dutch waterways are also used as commercial and recreational highways.  I’ve lost count of the amount of times in the last twenty years I’ve sat at a car at red light with the roadway in front of me tilted up to allow sailing vessels to go by. Sometimes though, when the road concerned is a motorway, a better solution than a tilting bridge has to be found, and this alternative is the aqueduct. This is basically where the canal goes over the road, ( or the road goes under the canal, take your pick) not a drinking water canal as per aqueducts of Roman times, but to carry  boat traffic. The one in my photographs is in Gouda (Yes, where the famous cheese comes from).

Make no mistake though, these canals are also very expensive feats of engineering and are not just there to benefit the whims of recreational boaties, the water in them is also very conveniently some of the water extracted from the land and is on it’s way to the sea to be pumped out when the next low tide comes around.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

 

I Need To Chat To A Ninety-Nine Year Old Builder About Our Stairs…

(photograph © Kiwidutch’s Neighbour)

Living in a 1930’s apartment presents  a few problems from time to time.

When you want to move in large furniture you do the normal, logical things like measuring the width of the stairs to check that said article will fit up the tight upper staircase.

When I found an antique sideboard on-line, we measured and re-measured just to make certain it could go up the stairs, and arranged for some willing family members to be present when it was delivered.

They got it up the first staircase with ease, that’s the communal staircase and is easily wide enough. Then came the second staircase leading to our upstairs living and dining rooms.  The narrower one that we had measured and remeasured.

The first part of the operation went well, the banister had been removed especially for the entry of my sideboard, there was about 1.5 centimetres each side of the large base, just enough for fingers holding it … so it was a shock when about one meter up the staircase there was a strange grinding noise and the sideboard was well and truly stuck.

I kept the children out of harms way at the top of the stairs, whilst below us at the base of the staircase where the spiral part is, came more and more mutterings, some grunts and eventually a few expletives.

The atmosphere changed perceptibly, something was definitely wrong. More grunts and mutterings confirmed that somewhere our carefully calculated plan was coming unhinged. I went to to top of the stairs and looked down: the base of my sideboard was in the stairwell, one short end of the rectangle being held by himself and two brother-in-laws, and yes there was indeed several centimetres clearance just as we had measured.

Then my eye travelled up the length of the cupboard, to the top where the top end of the rectangle was nicely wedged into the sides of the stairwell near the ceiling. The men tugged the cupboard downwards in order to free it, pieces of plaster from the stairwell followed and inspection revealed large scratch marks on both walls near the ceiling. We all looked at it in dismay.

The awful truth sank in: the stairwell was about five centimetres wider near floor level that at ceiling level. Unfortunately it was impossible to tell if it was something that had happened over the eighty-odd year life of the building or if some carpenter in 1930 had been somewhat hung over on the day that the stair walls were meant to be measured as plumb.

(photograph © Kiwidutch’s Neighbour)

Either way the nasty truth was now staring us in the face, the main body of my almost one hundred year old cabinet was never going to fit up this set of stairs. Himself started to entertain ideas, all of which included the use of a hacksaw, being all too familiar with his carpentry skills (or rather lack of them) I freaked out and firmly vetoed every one of his “let’s cut it until it fits” suggestions.

Then one brother-in-law asked Himself if we had any rope. His bright idea involved manually heaving it over the balcony and in via the French doors. This method however required more manpower, the sideboard being solid wood and very heavy.

Neighbours were enlisted and rope found: trussed up like a chicken my now upside-down sideboard went out through the French doors on the second story and with two men pushing it off one balcony and four heaving it up from above.

One neighbour used a broom handle to help push it out far enough to clear the ledge. I prayed that the rope and knots wouldn’t fail, if this plummeted into our downstairs neighbours garden Himself and I would become the proud owners of ninety year old kindling wood.

Fortunately the ropes held, we had enough muscle power and soon the sideboard was disappearing into the dining room upstairs.  Yeah!!! Cheers and cold drinks all round!  Bravo. Needless to say it’s not a piece of furniture that’s going anywhere else any time soon. The wife of one of the neighbours (not below us, but next door) took these photographs from their garden.(Edited by me for internet privacy).

Since this is an archive post I can tell you that it’s been sitting upstairs for a good few years now… but we learned our lesson for any other large piece of future furniture: in an old house that sports a narrow staircase never assume that the top of the stairwell is as wide as the bottom.

Fortunately a few willing neighbours coming to the rescue saw a happy ending to our removal problem,  and all that was left was for Himself to repair the scratch marks and fallen plaster in the stairwell. My sideboard says Thank You to the plaster for the sacrifice it made.

(photograph © Kiwidutch’s Neighbour)

(photograph © Kiwidutch’s Neighbour)

(photograph © Kiwidutch’s Neighbour)

(photograph © Kiwidutch’s Neighbour)

(photograph © Kiwidutch’s Neighbour)

Babies In Blankets, Lined Up In Rows…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

I’ve written about a few Dutch baby traditions before, and here are a few archive photographs of yet another one.

Once your new arrival has made their entrance into the world it’s customary in The Netherlands to offer your family and friends something like these sweet treats when they come and visit your new arrival for the first time.

Of course these are not the only type of  baby treats available… almost every local bakery has their own style of baby snacks, usually heavily featuring chocolate and/or  fondant and/or blue / pink “muisjes”.

“Muisjes” , although the word literally translates as “little mice” are sugar coloured aniseeds outlined in the link below, pink and white for girls and blue and white for boys.

They get their name because the seeds have nano sized stalks on them and when they are coated in the sugar, a little “tail” of sugar can form at one end of the seed.

More information on Muisjes, and better photographs can be seen in the link to the other post at the end of this post. I particularly like the fondant “babies in blankets”, I hadn’t seen this sort before. Also, at thirty Euro cents each, they are not expensive.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

A Dutch baby Tradition: “Beschuit met Muisjes”

The Blast Wall Stands Ready And Waiting: Just In Case…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

On the journey south to Zeeland we decide to take the ferry over the Maas river.

As the crow  flies it’s not too far from the outskirts of the port of Rotterdam and there’s a  feature here that I’ve tried to explain in a previous post but not managed to photograph very well until this trip back in the autumn of 2013.

The port of Rotterdam is vast, in fact they have been busy reclaiming some sixty kilometres of land and recently opened another of a series of extensions.

There are petrochemical plants,  massive container terminals and storage areas, and rows and rows of  gas and petroleum storage silo’s as well as the storage of various chemicals on an industrial scale.

The big rivers in the Netherlands are not just vital as access to the port and carry millions of tons of barge shipping deep inland into Germany and beyond, they also have a serious role to play in the network of dykes and levies that help protect hundreds of kilometres of low lying land around and between them.Therefore it’s hardly a surprise that  contingency measures have been put in place to protect the surrounding area should a worst-case scenario situation ever come to pass.

By the bridge and along the river, huge concrete towers  stand as a blast-wall defence against the shock waves that would be produced should any of the storage tanks ever explode. The first set of towers are wide, have curved front edges and flat backs, the second set are smaller and rounder, but there are twice as many of them. The idea is that should there be an explosion in the petrochemical area close by, that these reinforced concrete columns can absorb the bulk of the shock-waves so that the dykes, river and surrounding land on the other side suffer the least amount of damage.

They stand like silent sentries, just a tiny part of how the Dutch national flood defence system, ready for their moment if ever needed.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

 

An Awful Idea… Or Rather Brilliant?

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

All around Europe, supermarkets are full of fresh fruit and vegetables, a good proportion of which have probably been grown in Dutch glasshouses.

Many flowers in shops around the world also possibly originated in one of the glass houses too, so intensive agriculture under glass is a massive industry in the Netherlands.

Sadly our country doesn’t  have a Mediterranean climate so the rapidly shortening days of autumn and the ever cooler temperatures of the approaching winter mean that not only are these glass houses  very brightly lit with row after row of  electric lights, but they are  very well heated as well.

As we drive home though some of back-roads via the Westland area,  (one of the most prolific areas of glasshouses in South Holland) we pass by row after row of glass houses.

At this time of year the lights need to be put on fairly early in the afternoon and as we drive by it’s like an early Christmas light display on steroids… I lost count of how many of these we passed by… so here’s a bad pun: is these buildings an awful idea… or rather brilliant?

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

 

 

 

Are You My Winner? Let The Drumroll Begin!…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

On the fourth of May I ran a competition for a surprise package of goodies from Kiwidutch.

All you had to do to be in to win was to make a comment telling me which has been your favourite recent post, and why.

I’ve packed a bag with some Dutch goodies and all it needs now is the address of the recipient.

Since I was delighted with all of the replies and never want to play favourites, I used a random prize selector (i.e. my impartial children) to assign each comment with a number and then used the programme to pick one of those numbers at random to select my winner.

The kids persuaded me that all comments on posts I posted during the time that the competition was running should count, with the logic that if people cared enough to take the time make a comment, then they must have really liked the post.

Arm twisted by my two kids and two visiting cousins who were here for a sleepover,  we scribbled all the names on bits of paper, put them in the hat  one of my baking bowls, and after some squabbling about who got to make the draw, got the littlest kid to draw a name.

Thereafter (Drumroll…) I am delighted to announce that :

 NAVY WIFE CHRONICLES …

of    http://navywifechronicles.com/          is my lucky winner!!!

Congratulations to her and a huge Thank You to everyone who took the time to make a comment… (there will definitely be more competitions in the future on this blog, so for those of you who didn’t win this time, please  do try again!) . I appreciate each and every reader to visits my blog and for me there’s as much pleasure in running these competitions as there is for one of you to win them.

For Navy Wife, I will be contacting you to get your address and then your package will be in the post soonest. Yeah!!!! I hope this makes your day 🙂

                                         Congratulations!!!!

                                         Congratulations!!!!

                                         Congratulations!!!!

Ok, A Furtive Look Around: … err…When Do I Panic?

If you are visiting the Netherlands on the first Monday of any month, or came to live here recently you may be forgiven for a startled glance around you when at 12.00 noon you suddenly hear sirens going off everywhere.

When I first arrived in The Netherlands and heard these for the first time I was in the middle of a busy shopping street and looked around nervously to see if other people were doing things that I should maybe take notice of and follow suit.

Hmmm… they didn’t skip a beat, no one flinched or did anything. I was passing a bakery so ducked into the shop and asked the assistant if she knew what was going on please? She grinned and told me not to worry, it’s a normal part of Dutch life, the sirens are tested on the first Monday of every month at noon and if you hear them going off then, then it’s only the test.

If  however you hear these sirens at any other time then it’s a signal that some sort of emergency is at hand. You should turn on your radio and look for directions of what to do from police, Government, the national flooding agency or whichever appropriate agency  is taking control of the emergency situation.

Duh, silly me forgot that the movie feature only shows a horizontal photo so the video clip is side on because I had the camera up the wrong way. Since it’s the sound that’s the most important part of the clip I didn’t think it was worth making the video all over again (yep, if I’m honest I was feeling lazy).

Out With The Queen, In With The King … Takes A Bit Of Getting Used To…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Today is big day in The Netherlands… it’s the celebration of Koningsdag (King’s Day).

This year it feels rather strange for much of the Dutch population because this is the first “Koningsdag” in living memory.  This is because when the Dutch Queen Beatrix abdicated in 2013  for the first time in four generations the crown passed to a male member of the Dutch Royal Family.

Wikipedia tells me:  “The holiday was first observed on 31 August 1885 as “Prinsessedag” or Princess’s Day, the fifth birthday anniversary of Princess Wilhelmina, heiress to the Dutch throne. On her accession, the holiday acquired the name, “Koninginnedag”. 

When held on 31 August the holiday was the final day of school summer vacation, leading to its popularity among children. Following the accession of Wilhelmina’s daughter Juliana in 1948, the holiday was moved to Queen Juliana’s birthday on 30 April.”

Therefore until now we have always had a “Koninginnedag” (Queen’s Day)… and it was always celebrated on the birth-date of Juliana as an expression of continuity rather than switching it around during the thirty years of Beatrix’s reign.  Now things have been turned a little topsy turvy and not only has the name of this annual celebration changed but the date has too.

To be honest I preferred the old date, the last day of the month was easy to remember and organise for and since April is April the weather was always a gamble but at least you have a chance of fair weather. Moving it backwards in the calendar even just by a few days seems even on a physiological level to be like stepping back towards winter.

Fingers crossed that the rain holds off because today is a very busy day indeed. Hundreds of thousands of children (and their parents) around the Netherlands will be spreading out  their worldly goods on blankets as what’s probably the world’s biggest flea market takes places over the length and breadth of the country.

In some ways there is just too much stuff at once… it drives prices down for a start, as the only official day that is tax exempt on anything earned, some people do try and make money, others just take the opportunity to clear out the clutter and get rid of toys and clothes that children have grown out of.

Himself and I learned early on as parents that any cash you make from a sale generally stays in the parental pocket for a very short time as children beg for money to spend on  the mountain of “treasures” all around them.  For parents the main goal of the day is to get rid of more stuff than your kids would like to drag home.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Also traditional is to celebrate dressed to some degree in the national colour: orange, and as pocket-money enhancing endeavours, children often bake cupcakes for sale (Ok, yes the parents actually do the real work)…  or there is the old favourite : “grabbelen” (to grab).

This is where small gifts  (wrapped sweets / old toys/  stickers etc) are wrapped up and buried in something.

The “somethings” I’ve seen so far have been a wheelbarrow of sand, boxes or baskets full of shredded paper, Styrofoam packaging chips, sawdust or balls of scrunched up newspaper.

Other kids pay a nominal fee to grabbel…. which means reaching in an arm and fishing around for a little package that is then their prize.

Often if it’s a busy street a band will be playing,  some enterprising adults may have set up a BBQ and be sizzling sausages to sell, and generally the streets will be packed with sellers and bargain hunters.

The golden rule is that if you are a seller you have to set up your pitch very early to get a good spot, if you are a bargain hunter you will also have to rise with the dawn to snare your bargain. Be sure to take small notes and change, be prepared for the hustle, bustle, noise and crowds of people. Except with the smallest of children be prepared to haggle, wear at least one small item in orange and get out onto the streets and have fun!

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koningsdag

Music Pulls Young And Old Onto The Streets…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Recently during my posts on Delft I showed you a wagon-style street organ that was pulled by a horse with the best hair-do in The Netherlands.

It’s the most common sort of street organ: horse drawn, highly decorated with wooden figures and beautifully painted.

There is however another sort of street organ that is less regularly seen and that is the hand cranked one that is on a far smaller wagon.

They are privately owned, as far as I know by a few elderly gentlemen and they are just as delightful as their larger horse drawn counterparts.

I was fortunate to have my little camera with me  whilst out and about when this gentleman passed by with his, and a lady outside on the street we were in told me that she had the man’s card and that she had called him to come and play for them (for a small fee I assume). He certainly attracted plenty of people from the surrounding houses once the music started playing, young and old were enchanted. Playing his music on all the streets on the way home from his “gig” most surely earned him a few extra Euros to top up his pension.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)