G and I took our time this morning getting out of the house, despite the fact we wanted to take a small trip. We left around three and walked to Noordwijk’s shoreline. We spotted a cheesy tourist market nearby the hotels, with lots of expensive items. Nothing there was noteworthy or really touristy, but overpriced candy, toiletries, sunglasses, clothes, etc. Once we came into the dunes, we came to the Atlantic Wall museum. It was a restored network of bunkers built during the occupation of the Netherlands by Nazi Germany. Afraid of Allies invading from the West, Germany built tons of defenses throughout the country and shoreline.
The museum itself was empty when we got there, and even the ticket admissions lady was sleeping in front of the entrance. It was small, but interesting. There were a lot of photographs, trinkets, and pieces of original plane wreckage. When we first came in, G arranged (and I paid) a tour of the commando bunker in English. However, a sudden storm of people came in and there were fourteen other people who signed up for a tour. The museum then completely ignored the request for English, and led us around with a guide speaking Dutch. G helped where he could to tell me what was going on. We were led up to 4 m underground through the bunker. The bunker was only recently restored in 2004. Up until then people snuck into the bunker, especially children. A child died by falling through an upper hatch, and subsequently the bunker was filled with sand. The walls are filled with decades of graffiti, ranging from dates to the star of David to swearing at Hitler. The neatest part was the ammunition and canon firing area, which was used to take down a few reconnaissance Spitfire planes during the occupation. Dozens of these litter the western European coasts.
When we returned home, G, his dad, sister and I went to the restaurant Paal 14 on Katwijk’s shore. I had a run-in with the menu, the waitress bringing me a platter loaded with mushrooms. I have a vague idea these were partially responsible for the night’s bellyache. The rest of the meal was pretty good, and we had fun making faces out of our leftover fruit. Late in the evening, we pulled up a movie to watch on the PlayStation. “A Bridge Too Far” is a movie about Operation Market Garden. The past week’s trip came alive, and made everything very very real. I don’t think I’ve been this affected by a movie in a while. When you have seen the graves, the bridges, the wreckage…watching this saga replayed is mind jolting. The most memorable scene was the DC-3 planes dropping Paratroopers onto the Germans below.
This is my last evening in the Netherlands, I don’t look forward to leaving tomorrow.