My hotel room in Zaandam overlooked a square featuring a statue of Tsar Peter. Tsar Peter? As in, Peter the Great? In the Netherlands?
In the late 17th century Tsar Peter spent some time here, under a pseudonym, as he toured western Europe on a quest to modernize Russia. The monument in the center of the square features the young tsar practicing the craft of shipbuilding.
The weather today, unfortunately, was more of the same. I could not get enthused about biking in the cold and damp, under more gray skies. The forecast included some afternoon sunshine; maybe I would rent a bike near Zaanse Schans later.
I set out to cover the 6 km on foot, through residential neighborhoods that turned industrial. The dramatic Prince Bernhard bridge is a modern drawbridge over the River Zaan, complete with separated cycling lanes and paths for pedestrians.
The streets were deserted on a Sunday morning; even the churches seemed quiet. Shop windows were decorated with Sinterklaas and Piet.
What better advertisement for maternity care than a picture of a stork bearing its precious bundle?
The windmills restored at Zaanse Schans were at the forefront of the industrial revolution, which made the location seem particularly fitting as I passed modern plants. I picked up the scent of chocolate a few blocks before I passed some chocolate-related factories, and thought back to a video I'd watched on the plane that included a piece about an artist who builds “smell maps” of cities (including Amsterdam).
Zaanse Schans is for the Netherlands what Colonial Williamsburg is for the eastern U.S.—a place that re-creates and preserves an older way of life. At Zaanse Schans, there were artisans demonstrating the making of cheeses and wooden shoes. Some groups have restored the old windmills and keep them running.
Like Colonial Williamsburg, Zaanse Schans was a bit touristy. But you can avoid that.
After walking through De Huisman, where I learned about spice grinding, I chose well in touring De Kat.
De Kat is set up to pound bark and other materials to create pigments for paint. This being Europe (not the litigious U.S.), it was possible to climb the steep ladder to reach the balcony for a close look at the sails. (And to descend, backward, its equally steep counterpart.) I was surprised to discover the outside covered in thatch.
It didn't take much of a breeze to send the sails spinning. Inside, I watched the massive gears turn, catching and releasing a heavy post to pound the pigments.
Had I given much thought to it, I might have realized that the sails are not fixed in a particular orientation. To take best advantage of the shifting winds, they can be “steered”—rotated around the tower to catch the wind. These original windmills translated wind energy directly into mechanical force—to pound or grind, or even to saw logs into lumber. Ingenious.
The shop at De Huisman sold little bags of the button-sized cookies I'd seen Piet and his helpers hand out yesterday; no need to feel left out any longer! I sampled a few different cheeses at the cheese-making shop, and sat down at the bake shop to enjoy a warm waffle slathered with Nutella.
I learned that it was once traditional for a man to carve elaborate designs into a pair of wooden clogs for his bride.
Outside, I spotted a heron in the marsh and watched a cat skulking through the grass, its eye on a crow.
That weather forecast I mentioned above? Total fiction. There was no sign of the sun; in fact, my umbrella saw more action. I've come to think that they throw a little sunshine into the forecast just to give you hope.
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