Photos of me getting lost in The Hague (until I was saved by an Afghanistan refugee)
Blazing Reader,
The other week, I had to make a trip to The Hague. It's the capital city of the province of South Holland and the seat of the Dutch federal government. It's famous for its Japanese Garden, a miniature park, Vermeer's famous "Girl with a Pearl Earring" painting, the Netherland's most popular beach and the UN's International Court of Justice at the Peace Palace.
It's also where one will find the Embassy of Canada to the Netherlands, which is why I ventured out of the small village I live in to the country's third-largest city. As part of my immigration process, I needed some documents certified by the Canadian government.
My train arrived in The Hague's downtown station around 11 am. That's when everything went awry.
The Google Map I had printed out — showing me how to get from the train station to the Embassy for my 12:30 pm appointment — had a few inaccuracies, sending me in the complete opposite direction. The matter of finding my way was further confused by the way street signs work in the Netherlands. I've since caught on that the street running parallel to most signs is actually bearing the name of the perpendicular street it is fronting (the opposite of North America).
By 1 p.m., rather than finding myself at the doorsteps to the Canadian Embassy, I was standing on a bridge in the middle of the woods on the edge of the city:
So I turned back.
Fortunately, I enjoy running. Unfortunately, it was quite hot and I had a full backpack.
Giving up on the map, I resorted to asking people for directions. This is always fun and led to a good tour of the city — which was what I planned on doing anyway.
Here are some photos from my wanderings...
By three o'clock, I found myself back at the train station. Here's a photo of one of the more modern buildings directly next door...
...where I humbly knocked on the window of the first taxi cab I saw. A driver from Afghanistan stepped out, opened the back door for me, and in good English asked me where I would like to go.
"Canada," I replied.
As we slowly headed through rush hour traffic to the Canadian Embassy, my Afghan driver told me he'd been living in the Netherlands for thirty years. He escaped Afghanistan in the 90s. By coincidence, my wife and I have been reading The Kite Runner in English and Dutch. I asked what he thought of the novel's fictional account of another young man fleeing from his homeland.
"Good book! 90% true. 10% exaggeration."
I also asked him how long it had taken him to learn Dutch.
"Niet lang. Slechts tien jaar." (Not long. Only ten years.)
That made me feel better (about my slow progress) and worse (about how long it might take) at the same time.
Upon arriving at the Canadian Embassy...
...the guard welcomed me in Dutch, English and French. He asked to see my passport. After identifying me as a Canuck, he proceeded to treat me like a terrorist by confiscating my laptop and x-raying my whole body. He then escorted me to the waiting room.
Realizing I was now on Canadian soil, I looked for signs I was truly in Canada. Alas, the illusion was shattered by the European outlet that protruded from the walls. You would think that with all the money the Canadian government wastes, they'd have converted the electrical system of the Embassy over to Canadian NEMA standard.
They were, however, still accepting payment in Canadian dollars — $300 to be exact — for apostilles on six documents. It seemed a little steep but I decided I shouldn't discourage them from earning money by providing an actual service, rather than extracting it through the institutionalized system of violence known as taxation.
On my walk back to the station, I purchased some handmade licorice for the family and some wooden hearts for my wife.
Oh, and I ran into this fellow who looked even more out of place than me...
Next time, I'll check out those Japanese gardens and Vermeer's paintings.
John C. A. Manley
P.S. For more about my life in the Netherlands, check out our visit to the local windmill or our harrowing trip to Helmond Castle.
P.P.S. And for more about The Kite Runner check out my previous post: One of the world's bestselling novels is also one of the most banned books in America
John C. A. Manley is the author of Much Ado About Corona, All The Humans Are Sleeping and other works of philosophical fiction that are "so completely engaging that you find yourself alternately laughing, gasping, hanging on for dear life." Get free samples of his stories by becoming a Blazing Pine Cone email subscriber.
