Windmills at Kinderdijk

Jack arrived at our B&B the same time Saturday morning and we headed south to Ablasserdam, the town where my Oma and father lived before immigrating to America. Jack went into a furniture store to ask a gentleman he had met on his last visit where the county courthouse was so we could look up records of our ancestors.  Unfortunately, it was Saturday and the courthouse was closed.  In lieu of finding where our family might have lived, we walked the narrow brick paved sidewalks searching for salty black licorice.  While looking for the licorice we came across a bakery and purchased some freshly baked speculaas cookies. The Sweetie Shop, a little candy shop a few blocks away had an assortment of at least twenty different licorices.  The young lady didn’t speak English and didn’t understand that we wanted salty licorice. In sign language, by putting our fingers to our lips we asked if for a taste of the different licorices including a black diamond shaped licorice imprinted with the letters ZOUT, meaning salt in Dutch. It was just the licorice I was looking for, so I purchased a pound, hoping it would last me for a while after I returned home.

Kinderdijk (pronounced kinderdyke) was next on the itinerary.  The famous Dutch windmills were only a few miles away from Albasserdam. We arrived in time for a movie about why the windmills were built and the origin of the name Kinderdijk, which there are about four different stories. The one I liked revolved around the St. Elizabeth flood in 1400. A child was floating on one of the canals during the flood and a cat rocked the cradle back and forth to keep in from sinking. In a small museum, Cliff discovered four authentic wood spades with metal edges hanging on the wall.  He’s been researching how to make the same shovels for a customer who wants them for reenactments, but had never seen one first hand.

As we enjoyed a picnic lunch of liverwurst and hot mustard sandwiches on whole grain bread and apples, Jack and I talked about how different our lives might have been if our father hadn’t passed away when we were young.  I wondered if my Dutch Oma might have brought my father to Kinderdijk as a child to see the windmills, since it is so close to where they lived.  I thought about how pleased our ancestors were been that we made the journey back to our motherland.  I felt honored to have a rich cultural heritage.  My heart was full of gratitude for all the people that preserved this part of history for us to experience, share and enjoy.

The windmills were built in the 1700’s to pump water into the canals to keep the land from collapsing and going undersea. One of the windmills where the miller and his family actually lived was open to the public. We climbed narrow wood steps to view areas for the children. As we strolled the pathway with people on bikes, families with children and the three story windmill equipped with a kitchen, sitting room, bedroom and play tourists groups, Cliff and Jack counted nineteen windmills along the canals. People from all over the world visit Kinderdijk to see how the Dutch ingeniously manage water.