Or Truth Be Told.
Morning arrival: 4:58 am. Sunday, NO trains run at 5:30 on a Sunday.
Take a taxi to here? ‘m too ‘Dutch’ for that, [translation = frugal]
I didn’t have luggage, only a small carryon as I use ‘send my bag’ service. There are some things they won’t allow you to ship, so those you schlep.
None of the airport services were available except, bless-their-corporate-heart, Starbucks; the only service available at Schiphol. Even the folks that work the customs inspection were absent.
Eventually the train does arrive but work is being carried ‘somewhere’ on the rail line, so, in addition to the train one leg of the trip was on a NS bus – another good reason not to have luggage. That was a 45 minute ride. This bus dropped us all off at the final station to catch the last half hour of the train ride.
Finally home, just another five minute walk from the train station.
Arrived at the house, which had been occupied by the owner over the summer.
Unlocked and opened the door- new lock — as the owner had finally changed it after 10 years of renters and keys on the old lock. The new one worked flawlessly.
As a lovely gesture, the owner left a garden bouquet on the glass dining table.
However, many days had passed since she put flowers to water and the odor of stagnation, was, you can imagine.
Set everything down that I was carrying, opened the back door to facilitate a fresh air breeze, opened the front door carrying the offending stems, walked outside, crossed the brick road to deposit the offending bouquet in the berm
And then you hear it!
That sudden, solid, singularly recognizable sound.
The door shutting and locking you out.
Of course I had hidden a spare key in the plants prior to leaving. But that was for the OLD/other lock
There I stood. Tired, rather raw, and completely shut out!!
The tale has a wonderful end; the short version: how to meet your neighbors on an early morning on a Sunday.
After considering what it would cost to break the small window pain of antique glass and deciding not to, the early morning dog walkers were my first line of attack .
Accosted a couple of male dog walkers, guess I’m too old for the damn-sel in distress not one of them could help. One reminded me it was Sunday and of course no lock smith was available. Wouldn’t you know, it was the sole woman dog walker who came to my aid. We walked together along side her two chocolate labs, to her boat to retrieve her flower arranging roll of wire to see if we could use it, like one would use a coat hanger.
Soon, two other neighbors joined in; one who was observing all this from the other side of the harbor while sitting on his boat. [Don’t know if he heard my initial reaction!]
A grand time was had by all! Much laughing and clucking and being neighborly- there are some funny little offshoot stories.
But at last, the door was open with wire from the woman dog walker, with the aid of a hand-held a mirror through the door’s mail slot by a neighbor who has until now been distant and unfriendly.
The actual work done was accomplished by the handsome man from the boat.
The wire pulled the lock open.
The rest of the day i carried a key in my pocket,
All this time the neighbors cat was winding his way through my legs because no one had fed him shrimp in the three months I’d been gone and he was desperate for some.
It was a chaos.
There is a Dutch saying: Better to have a good neighbor than a distant friend.
In the afternoon, a neighbor on whose door bell I had pulled, plied me with coffee and said they didn’t answer my bell-pulling because they thought it was the Jehovah Witness folks.
That evening another invited me for a glass said it had been a long day?
Now two days later, a key is buried outside…
I think I’m going to sow more along the berm…
