Thorn Around the World
Hague Recollections
Traveling around the world is my favorite way to meet people. Playing darts doesn't hurt either. And, after forty years and more than forty countries, I'm proud of my long list of long lost and long lasting friendships. There's nothing better than seeing old friends anew. And, it's always a peculiar feeling to see them in a new corner of the world.Robert and Patricia are from the capital of the Netherlands, The Hague, and they love to travel too. I met them two years ago on Caribbean Cruise, and we became fast friends hanging out at sea and on shore.I first met them playing darts on the ship. (You can read about that adventure right here: "In The Bullseye of a Hurricane, Parts 1-8") Patricia works for the government and Robert's a former emergency medical responder-he even answered a call to Raymond Van Barneveld's residence a few years prior! But today, I was in their country and-even thought they had just returned from their own overseas adventure-they promised to show me their home town, jet lag or not!
Standing on the cobble street in Delft, Robert pulled up wearing his usual smile. After a quick exchange of handshakes, man-hugs, and what-a-small-world sentiments, we stuffed my bags in his car and rolled out of Delft. I watched the antique architecture of the town disappear and a more modern mix of a city appear as we zoomed down the freeway, skirting downtown to the dense suburbs.
Patricia was waiting for us on the sidewalk near their apartment, and we whisked her up with another round of hellos, hugs, and so-good-to-see-yous. It was early afternoon, and we were headed to the open air market to explore the culture.
The Hague, or Den Haag, has a much different look than Delft. The buildings and apartments are taller and twentieth century, the streets are wider, cars and public transportation rule the roads instead of bicycles and canals, although there is no shortage of pedestrians. Half the population is immigrant, and every color of humanity mixes and mingles together. As we parked near the market, crowds of worshipers were leaving a mosque after midday prayers. Crossing the street, I nearly got swiped by an electric train humming around a turn. And, among the maze of stalls, people from Africa, Asia, Europe and the West went about daily life, buying and selling goods and foods.
After sampling a local treat or two, we ambled back to the car to visit Robert and Patricia's home. They have a fabulous apartment overlooking the residential area of The Hague. They gave me a bottle of Bacardi, a memento of our times in the tropical islands. And, Robert whipped up a delectable lunch that we enjoyed in their glass balcony. Their hospitality and friendship went beyond words, and we had a great time catching up on each others' lives and adventures.
Time flew, Robert and Patrcia soon drove me to the door of the hostel, the original beach Jorplace in Scheveningen, a town on the coast just north of The Hague. Once I was checked in, Robert and Patricia stayed for more drinks and revelry with me, the crew, and a handful of backpackers.
Entering Jorplace I was greeted with candles and cupcakes-not for me, but an employee having a birthday. Right away, the staff welcomed me and made me comfortable in a fabulous private room on the top floor. It wasn't long before I had a whole new set of friends-both the workers and world wanderers, and the first night of partying ensued.
There was a large firepit on the back patio where we hung out and talked, drank and sang songs. A multi-colored volkswagen van-which is also a 'room' to rent-sat in the garden. Extreme sports enthusiasts, especially surfers and kiteboarders, came and went-the owner of Jorplace, Jordi, is an avid athlete and supporter, and some of his inner circle was on hand making publicity videos of the hostel and its atmosphere. (In fact, I have a double cameo in the promotional film for the Delft Jorplace! Thanks Anders!) Inside, there was a large bar and dance area, seating for meals, and couches around the large flatscreen. A piano rested in the middle, and a wonderful world of seafarers, seafood and thrill seekers were just outside.
The 2011 World Grand Prix was on this week, and more than once I sat there with others, watching the matches, and spreading the love of darts. One of the two dartboards I acquired in Delft was already here, waiting to be hung in just the right spot. At other times, I sat and played piano during the quiet days, or I would walk the streets to the shops and beaches, watching skateboarders shred up a park or seagulls attack a returning fish troller. The weather wasn't great-often rainy and always windy-but nonetheless, I loved browsing the town. When Mother Nature really wasn't cooperating, I'd huddle in the hostel, writing updates to DartsUnderground, checking in with friends back home, or researching where to go and what to see between Holland and Spain over the next two weeks.
At nights, things usually got intoxicating. The staff or some travelers and I would make a big meal and eat together-never without a steady supply of beer. Disc jockeys or bands would play, and people danced with abandon. And, each night we'd wander to the beach in the dark and breathe in the fresh air gusting in off the Atlantic.
I remember, vaguely, sitting on the couch late on one of those first nights. I saw the dartboard leaning uselessly against the floor wall. I stared at it, secretly hoping we could put it up tomorrow.
Over and double out.
