We had rented bikes at a sort of wildlife reserve and recreation area outside Amsterdam with the small tour group we were leading. The weather was nice -- something not to be taken for granted, even in an early Dutch summer.
We enjoyed meandering through the polders (land reclaimed from the sea by the use of dykes, that marvel of Dutch engineering), pedaling along paths through grassy areas, along canals and around small lakes. We then found ourselves out in the open on a rural road that took us through a number of small, quaint villages.
And then the fine weather turned not so fine, and we were caught in a downpour just as we entered one such village. One staple of Dutch culture is the omnipresence of snack bars, small shops that sell the iconic "patat" (French fries) with mayonnaise, or even better, pindasaus, a delicious Indonesian peanut sauce -- along with other deep-fried delights. But I digress.
We entered the snack bar for a reprieve from the rain. The only other customer was a solitary older gentleman, with whom I struck up a conversation. (Seems I am much less introverted in foreign countries than I am at home, something my psychologist brother or son might need to help me unpack. 🙂)
I wish I could recall more detail of that conversation, but the impression it left on me has remained since that day in 2010. We were clearly off the beaten path, away from the tourist trail, and I was a captive audience to this gentleman's stories that reached back all the way to the second World War. He spoke of the Nazi occupation, food rationing, and how the Germans confiscated all the meat the local farmers could raise. He spoke as if all this were so much more recent than the 1940's.
What my wife and I carried away from that conversation is this: the mark left on Europe by the horrors of Nazi aggression is still very much there.
It would be hard for a tourist just passing through to notice this, as the Netherlands rebuilt fairly quickly and efficiently after the war. But a sudden downpour afforded us the opportunity to connect with someone whose path we would not otherwise have crossed, and the perspective he brought has reminded me how fortunate and sheltered we in the US are. 9/11 definitely brought a jolt of reality to us Americans, but many in other parts of the world live with even greater, more constant reminders of the horrors of war, on their own soil.
Grateful to have gotten wet that day.