Windmills and Tulips (Part 2)

The morning had gone well. Surprisingly well. Our trip to see windmills at Kinderdijk had produced history, art, culture, and some really cool photographs. Being on a bus and using the radio ear thingie was kind of against how I like to do things, but it paid off in the long run. Private tour with slower pace is my preference whenever possible. A little bit of control feeds my inner freak.

My inner control freak was nagging me over lunch on the boat that if we waited too long to get to Keukenhof we would get caught in the rain that was forecast from this morning and not get the pictures of this annual kaleidoscope of color that so defines the Netherlands. Radar is showing green and a little bit of yellow moving our way. Not the kind of colors that I want to see.

The announcement comes over the PA system that we are to join our bus for the afternoon trip to see what most of us have come here for. They did name the itinerary the Tulip Serenade didn’t they? Grey skies with patches of white and blue. Hopeful. Always hopeful.

It was a half hour drive out of Rotterdam past the cube houses again to get to Keukenhof Gardens. Nearly eighty acres of seven million tulip bulbs carefully choreographed to bloom right now. Growers from all over vie for the opportunity to present their flowers at this special place. The garden designer dcreates the palate of color and shapes that we see and a section of the garden is reserved for each of the one hundred growers. They place a small sign in front of their display in an effort to market their own special bulbs. They have been cultivated since 1595 and there are new offerings being designed every year. The colors, sizes, petal shape, are all unique to their breeding formula. Each of the custom bred tulips is given a name, much as roses are, to identify them and often add an expectation of how special they are.

The last kilometer into the park looked like a day at Disney world. Bus after bus and car after car all streaming into the massive parking lot. There were only eight more days until the park would be closed for the year. Tourists from around the world and locals desperate for a final look at these beauties were flocking in droves to the same place that I had chosen to be right now. We parked in a long long row of busses and were directed to memorize our location to return in just a few hours. The hundreds of people clustering around the dozen entrance gates appeared to be actually making their way into the gardens. And it was not raining! Yes. There was hope.

After explaining to our Brazilian friends to not stop at the bathrooms on the way in (they would be in line for a half hour) and stick together until our guides had gotten us through the front gate we followed Diana through the first display of tulips to get ourselves oriented. Entering the gates led us to a huge open area with a cacophony of color. Bright tulips in near random massive mound allowed each bloom to cry out with its own voice. She led us into the original garden of the estate with varieties of wild tulips and early cultivars from over 100 years ago. She got us oriented and suggested checking out the indoor displays before wandering the nearly eighty acres of manicured gardens.

Dusty and I entered the the gymnasium sized display barn complete with food court and quickly decided that flower arrangements and artwork by people could not complete with the outdoor gardens we had already started to explore.

Without a firm plan or even looking at the map we set out in the direction away from the entrance and let the designs of the planners and the spirit of our senses take us forward into what felt like Alice Through the Looking Glass. There were near black tulips checkerboard with pure white. Brilliant reds in clusters and some that looked like flames lapping at the sky. The designers had placed row upon row in groups that would make rainbows and waves and other imaginative designs to show off the diversity of the flowers and to bring them together in a way that was artistic and harmonious.

Between the displays were pathways that were nicely marked and bordered with knee high ropes to keep wandering visitors out of the flowers. Unfortunately there were a number of social media divas who felt the need to show how they were the center of the gardens and not the flowers. Some would climb over the ropes to lay against the flowers while their personal photographer would snap away for the adoring fans out there somewhere. Others would just have their minion video them walking next to these floral beauties as they walked along brushing their hands over the delicate blooms as if to pet them. People are weird.

After a few shots of the freaks pandering to their viewers I got back to recording the real stars of the show. Some of the views made you stand in awe of both the flowers and the brilliant way the designers of the gardens had laid them out. Dusty pointed out that there were bougainvilleas, hyacinths, azaleas, daffodils and more. She felt they did not get the respect they deserved. The park also recognized the little visitors to the gardens and tipped their collective hats with giant wooden shoes and life sized Miffy cutouts for the kids to enjoy. One of those kids was Dusty.

As we worked out way to the back of the park it began to rain and I feared that my day in Keukenhof was coming to an end. We covered up with our windbreakers and Dusty found a bench out of the rain to wait it out. Soon it passed and all was fresh and clean. For a short while afterwards we even had a bit of sunshine that caused me to bounce around trying to capture “good light” the photographer’s friend. Toward the back of the park we came across a group of tulips of a stunning fuchsia color with a single red one standing just one head above the rest. It seemed a metaphor to me that it is alright to be yourself and stand out among the others. You don’t have to be the same to be special. Or… Conformity is highly overrated.

Our rain break had ended. Our time had come to an end. It was time to tuck my camera under my windbreaker and work our way back to the entrance. When we got to the bus all were there except for our table mates from the cruise. Fortunately we had been sharing photos by messenger and so I sent a message that it was time to go. Soon they arrived and we were on our way.

On the way back our asian friend with the terrible cough sat behind me and suffered much to breathe without much labor, coughing, and sneezing. Two days later I was in bed in Amsterdam sweating out a fever. When I got home I tested positive for Covid. Travel is not without it’s challenges. But I did get my pictures of Keukenhof!