Land of Dreams
Here, by the old Zuider Zee, the horizon seems to stretch to infinity. This huge expanse of water, now known as the Ijsselmeer (an inland lake), was once open sea that the ingenious Dutch have enclosed in an intricate system of dykes and concrete. You can see for miles. The distance is pregnant with possibilities. Traditional Dutch communities, with their wooden, painted houses, share the horizon with lines of gigantic, twirling, modern windmills – old and new in an intriguing blend, so typical of the modern Dutch landscape.
Those flat, wide, open spaces imprint themselves indelibly on my mind’s eye. This huge stretch of water, surrounded by a tiny ring of land, is adorned with a low strip of houses around the basin’s rim. Above them are vast expanses of sky with low banks of white cloud. We call them this land the Netherlands – the flatlands of northern Europe – with their well-known landscape that the old Dutch masters loved and made forever famous. Jacob van Ruisdael and Aelbert Cuyp, to name just two, had a profound influence on the way we view the Dutch landscape even today.
It’s a land for dreamers. Nothing is distinct; the sunlight glints on the water and the waters are whipped up and ripple in the cool, brisk breeze. But the view is a distant one and there is plenty of scope for speculation. What is out there, beyond the rippling water and the colonies of seabirds bobbing up and down on the waves? What will I find if I journey to the distant horizon?
Dreams are always best, I find, when you cannot see too clearly. Too much detail and my dreams are shattered. Too much reality and I lose faith – there are too many obstacles in my way; too many flaws in the raw materials of my imagined future. If I half close my eyes and squint into the distance all things are possible. There are a myriad of possibilities and the horizon is a circle of gold where the rainbow ends. But all that glisters is not gold and if I open my eyes wide and peer too hard I discover all that is wrong, inadequate, impractical and badly thought out in my precious dreams.
No, the Netherlands is a good place for dreamers. Those big, wide skies hold out vistas full of hope. There are no mountains to climb, no valleys to cross, only a clear, flat run at my far distant goal. Let us hope that the wind is behind me as I run for it is my only obstacle. But it is a long way to the end of the rainbow.
No, I must keep looking ahead, my eyes focussed on that far off, misty horizon, not paying much attention to the detail on the way, if I am to reach my goal, fulfil my dreams.
Here, by the old Zuider Zee, the horizon seems to stretch to infinity. This huge expanse of water, now known as the Ijsselmeer (an inland lake), was once open sea that the ingenious Dutch have enclosed in an intricate system of dykes and concrete. You can see for miles. The distance is pregnant with possibilities. Traditional Dutch communities, with their wooden, painted houses, share the horizon with lines of gigantic, twirling, modern windmills – old and new in an intriguing blend, so typical of the modern Dutch landscape.
Those flat, wide, open spaces imprint themselves indelibly on my mind’s eye. This huge stretch of water, surrounded by a tiny ring of land, is adorned with a low strip of houses around the basin’s rim. Above them are vast expanses of sky with low banks of white cloud. We call them this land the Netherlands – the flatlands of northern Europe – with their well-known landscape that the old Dutch masters loved and made forever famous. Jacob van Ruisdael and Aelbert Cuyp, to name just two, had a profound influence on the way we view the Dutch landscape even today.
It’s a land for dreamers. Nothing is distinct; the sunlight glints on the water and the waters are whipped up and ripple in the cool, brisk breeze. But the view is a distant one and there is plenty of scope for speculation. What is out there, beyond the rippling water and the colonies of seabirds bobbing up and down on the waves? What will I find if I journey to the distant horizon?
Dreams are always best, I find, when you cannot see too clearly. Too much detail and my dreams are shattered. Too much reality and I lose faith – there are too many obstacles in my way; too many flaws in the raw materials of my imagined future. If I half close my eyes and squint into the distance all things are possible. There are a myriad of possibilities and the horizon is a circle of gold where the rainbow ends. But all that glisters is not gold and if I open my eyes wide and peer too hard I discover all that is wrong, inadequate, impractical and badly thought out in my precious dreams.
No, the Netherlands is a good place for dreamers. Those big, wide skies hold out vistas full of hope. There are no mountains to climb, no valleys to cross, only a clear, flat run at my far distant goal. Let us hope that the wind is behind me as I run for it is my only obstacle. But it is a long way to the end of the rainbow.
No, I must keep looking ahead, my eyes focussed on that far off, misty horizon, not paying much attention to the detail on the way, if I am to reach my goal, fulfil my dreams.
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