Agra and The Taj Mahal

As we rolled toward Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, stops were made to check out the roadside stoneworkers and visit Fatehpur Sikri, Akbahr the Great’s failed palace.

Although it is an impressive piece of architecture it’s was built to far from any dependable water source and was abandoned after Akbahr’s death.



Fatehpur Sikri was also where judgment was rendered. Capital punishment was performed by elephants who would step on the criminals’ heads. The tusks of those elephants adorn a tower on the edge of the palace grounds.

Initially we had planned to get up early enough to see the Taj Mahal at dawn, which is supposed to be quiet a sight but the early morning was set for fog so instead we timed it just early enough to beat the throngs and catch some good post sunrise light.
To get there our tour bus had to drop us off at a depot a bit down the road from the Taj. Polluting vehicles are not allowed within 2kms of the sight but a variety of electric vehicles run from the Depot.

My experience with the Taj was a lot like my experience with Michelangelo’s David. It had been so hyped-up I decided to keep my expectations low to ward off the possibility of disappointment. In both cases the effort seems to have been unnecessary. The Taj has presence. The way it looms large against a wide blue sky provides a sense of the epic.

In the end the Taj Mahal is simply a mausoleum, the kind only the conspicuous wealth of an emperor could provide. The emperor was Shah Jahan and he built it to fulfill a deathbed promise to his wife who died giving birth to his 14th child. This probably didn’t sit well with his other 2 wives but history tends to glaze over that little issue.

Jahan himself was eventually also laid to rest in the Taj after living his last eight years imprisoned by his son in a cell facing the Mahal. Apocryphal stories abound about how that came to pass. Some say the son was trying to stop his father from bankrupting the kingdom with plans to build an equally large structure facing the Taj for symmetry. Some say it was simply a power grab. I say the son just had a real knack for creating a good narrative for marketing purposes.

Either way, Lauren, Cheryl and I spent the morning clicking away with our cameras trying to capture the monument in a way that did justice to the way it felt in person.

Some small confusion arose from the fact that many official guards don’t have real uniforms so it became hard to distinguish them from hucksters who were trying to get you to give them a few rupees for a little tour guiding. I gave one guy about a dollars worth for guiding me to some good photo spots.

We took the time to wait in line to see the inner sanctum, which was not nearly as exciting. All the charm of the place is worn plainly on it’s facade. We walked out about 11 am feeling satisfied like you would after a great meal.



Speaking of which I went for lunch in a neighborhood just behind the Taj. A small group of us had entrusted Justine (a Kiwi) to suss out something authentic to eat. She navigated us to Shankara Vegis, a tiny family restaurant with good food and a fantastic view of The Taj Mahal in the unusual context of being framed by scenes of real Indian city life.



We achieved a new Tuktuk record by squeezing in 5 passengers. Andre and I got to sit in the front on either side of the driver while holding safety handles on the vehicles exterior.

We met up with the rest of the tour group at the Agra Fort where Shah Jahan had been imprisoned for his final years. The place is a great labyrinth well worth getting lost in for a while. Like the Taj it attracts as many India tourist as is does foreign ones, many of whom have never seen a white person in the flesh before.

It’s not uncommon to find an Indian person sideling up next to you, only to realize he’s got a friend trying to get a picture of the two of you. When I catch anyone doing this I just pose with them and force them to take a picture with my camera too.

Because of an unexpected and particularly bad traffic delay we were tight on time for our last 2 stops of the day. So Perry put it to a vote and a group decision was made to limit our visit to the “Baby Taj” to just 5 minutes. This was fine. Although interesting and ornate it’s really just another mausoleum.

In fact it has no relation to the Taj Mahal other than being in the same architectural family. “Baby Taj” is just a nickname and the structure actually predates the Taj by a century or so.

So we all ran in, clicked away and ran back out … and then waited because Nick decided to use the washroom despite knowing we were in a hurry. Nonetheless we managed to cross the river and situate ourselves on the banks for a view of the real Taj by sunset. The fog had started to return but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Back at our hotel Lauren (the 95lb junk food queen) was jonesing for McDonalds. Usually I avoid American fast food when I’m doing the world travel thing but there is a limit to how much Indian I can eat without a break and the local McDonald’s menu is really interesting.

I tried the McAloo Tiki, which has a potato patty instead of beef. It was surprisingly good. I think if McDonalds really wants to offer veggie alternatives they should just import their Indian Menu to North America instead of their usual wilted lettuce salads.
Up next: Orcha.

Abhaneri and Bhandarej

We’ve begun a journey away from the big city centers and into more rural parts of northern India. Lazy hours sitting on the coach have been spent switching from conversations to naps to listening to music.

On our way to the remote village of Bhandarej we stopped in Abhaneri home to a well preserved “step well.” It looks like nothing much from the outside, frankly I wondered why we were stopping at this spot but once inside I was confronted with a massive structure that cracked the earth open in a way that would make M.C. Escher proud.

The step well is a deep man made pit with shallow steps leading downward in layers toward the bottom were the water seeps in. Rain collects in the pit as well. This meant that the people of the village could always come and collect water no matter how much the level would raise or lower.

Also acting as a temple, one side is built up with viewing platforms and audience chambers. The structure is lined with ornate sculptures.
The well is situated on the edge of what could barely be called a village, not much more than a handful of small structures on a crossroad, but I think the race is on to start capitalizing on this forgotten marvel as a tourist destination. The place we had lunch was a plush dining room in a resort that was still being built. The tourists will be coming soon, and in droves.

Bhandarej was significantly bigger but still very much a village. The bus barely managed to navigate its narrow streets to transport us to our accommodations, a modest palace, converted for guests. I felt just a little like Indiana Jones in Temple of Doom as we basked in luxury behind the walls as simple village life went on outside.



After getting settled Perry took us on a walking tour through the town. We were as much a source of curiosity to them as they were to us. As touristy as it felt for a gaggle of westerners to travel in clump with our cameras clicking away it also felt like we were having a glimpse into a more authentic portion of India.











Although the school kids were all over us for pens and chocolates, the constant hawking and salesmanship were at a near silent minimum. Then as quickly as we had invaded, we disappeared again behind our high palace walls.











That night was Christmas Eve so the courtyard overlooked by the dining room was strung with lights and decorations, which didn’t quite say Christmas, but they were festive.
Dinner was accompanied by musicians playing traditional local music.

The music was good but the vocals were sometimes actually quiet grating and the songs went on at quite some length.

There was also a lone male dancer, a slight, twisty little man who moved emphatically. I hesitate to call his dancing girly, but it really was. After dinner was done he and the band try to get us to get up and dance around with them. Everyone was resistant at first but soon enough even Lauren who swore they couldn’t get her off her chair was up and moving.



The entertainment ended with a “Christmas Cake” whish was heart shaped, kind of tasteless and said “Happy Xmas” on it. Which, I found much more entertaining than a successful simulation of a western Christmas.

For most the night ended there but I decided to take the stairs to the rooftop and enjoy the view. Tatiana, a medical worker from a small island in Denmark, joined me for star gazing and quiet conversation.

The music in the distance just seemed to punctuate that for the first time in a long time the night sky was open and the world seemed … calm.

Jaipur (J-eye-poor), Elephants and Bollywood!

The journey to Jaipur started with the arrival of our tour bus. Not a full size one like we’re used to in Canada but a surprisingly comfy mini bus about ½ the length of a regular one and only wide enough to fit three people across instead of the usual four.

Because of Indian traffic the 270km drive to Jaipur was slated for 6 hours. Including short stops for “Fine Dining” and photos of the statues of Rama, his wife Sita and other attendant gods.



Arriving at our hotel, the “Fort Chandragupt” we were greeted with garland necklaces and “teeka’ marks on our foreheads, which are considered a mark of good omen upon greeting.

After dropping our bags, Perry arranged a fleet of bicycle rickshaws to take us to see the moon temple. Somehow I got seated with another big guy and a 12-year-old boy as the driver. That obviously wasn’t going to work so after a little switching around we were off.

Jaipur is the Pink City, the City of Victory, home to the Amber Fort and the Palace of Winds, a big draw for tourists and just as crazy busy as Delhi.
To get to the Moon Temple we had to get into the walled off, old part of town known as the “Pink City” by passing through the Moon Gate. The name comes simply from the rusty pink stone that the entire old town is made of. The temple itself sits on a roof over a row of shops overlooking a central Jaipur square.

The rest of the evening consisted of a leisurely dinner at a fairly fancy and place that featured after dinner performances of puppetry and Indian dancers. One dancer worked with an ever-increasing number of pots on her head. It felt a bit gimmicky but it was entertaining nonetheless.



The next day, after a breakfast on our hotels incredible terrace we went to see Jaipur’s main sights, starting with the Hawa Mahal. The name means Palace of Winds and it’s called his because of the cooling breeze generated inside by screens of it’s hundreds of windows.

It was constructed this way so that the many wives and concubines of Akbar the great could each have their own view of the many parades that occurred below. Heaven forbid these women should actually be allowed outside! Ironically we weren’t allowed inside but I think the facade is the main draw anyway.
In just the few minutes we were there we were swarmed with store owners and beggars wanting our attention. When I was warned of culture shock on this trip I expected to feel it right away or not at all. I’m finding it’s the ongoing havoc of every person on the street wanting my attention and in turn my money that creeps up on you and starts to jangle your nerves. But I think there will come a point where it just starts to slide off my back as par for the course.

Next it was the Amber Fort, an immense yellow stone hilltop fortification. We had a choice to take a jeep, walk, or ride an elephant to the top. You can guess what I chose. It was a little silly and in hindsight I realized it would have been a short walk but how often do you get to ride an elephant into a fort?

Of course the one thing that took some air out of it was that once again, the elephant driver hit me with a surprise demand for a tip before we got to the end. As cheap as he rupee is I couldn’t begrudge him something but not double what I initially paid for the ride. Luckily I’ve learned everything here is a negotiation.



The fort itself overlooks a majestic expanse and the interior is filled with intricate gardens and is decorated with bits of inlaid mirror to lighten the dark corners.

On the way out we saw a real traditional snake charmer. I took lots of pictures for my mom who can’t get through the opening scene of Raiders without leaving the room.

On the way back into town we made a quick stop at the Floating Palace, which is inaccessible by any means but boat. Apparently it has a restaurant but it’s not open at this time of year.

The last stop on our scheduled tour was the City Palace Museum. As you’d expect it was the ruling seat of Jaipur and is now preserved as a historical building with artifacts on display. I was particularly fond of the peacock gate.

With our free afternoon a group of us attempted to go shopping back by the Palace of Winds with only minor success. The constant hard sell made it difficult to appreciate anything and more often than not I just walked away. Every store had some guy racing out of it to tell us to come in. The amazing part was that once I had made it know I was looking for a T-Shirt with an Ohm symbol in my size the word went out all up and down the street. Every shop along the road had someone come running out at me holding a shirt trying to convince me that this shirt was better than the one I had wanted. In the end I did end up with a shirt but I think it will shrink too much. Either way it was an adventure.

On the other hand the tuktuk ride back was a better adventure. We bargained a driver down to 100rps to take the four of us back to our hotel, which was pretty good because it was rush hour and rates tend to rise. As we were zipping along, starting and stopping abruptly in the usual Indian way, I realized the tuktuk ahead of us had just stopped and was getting closer, quickly! Bang! Bu-Bang! We bounced bumpers and the motorcycle behind us hit our side, leaving his handlebar jammed in our wheel well. It was all very minor really because the crowded traffic can’t really get moving that fast.
But it didn’t end there. After quick words between our driver and the motorcyclist we were moving again. Just 5 minutes later a cop (the first one we’d seen take an active role in traffic) pulled us over. We couldn’t understand exactly what the discussion was about but I did recognize the word “permit.” So the driver got out of the tuktuk and walked off with the cop, just leaving us in a running vehicle in traffic.
That’s when the vehicle started, almost imperceptibly at first, to roll backwards! Thankfully Andre, a very tall Belgian, leaned over the front seat to grab the steering bar and hit what we think was the break, or possibly the clutch. Either way the roll stopped for a bit. As we wondered if the driver was coming back we had one more little backward roll before he returned. I feel pretty sure he paid off the cop.

Happily we didn’t miss out on our evening entertainment, a Bollywood movie at the Raj Mandir cinema. It was similar in many ways to movie theatres from home but only the one screen and a capacity for 1200, which actually isn’t that much more than some of the bigger ones, back home. Surprisingly though, the snacks were not overpriced or oversized. One odd the thing was the disturbingly stern bust of the theatres founder sternly overlooking the grand lobby.

Bollywood films average about 3 hours and include an intermission. This one was called De Dand Dan, which basically means, “it goes on and on.” It was a hoot but we didn’t feel the need to stay past the intermission of a film we couldn’t fully understand.
It was an excellent way to punctuate time in the city just before our foray into the Indian country side.

Delhi

Our first real day of the tour began at 9:30 after breakfast at the hotel. The initial challenge was to get to Chandi Chowk (a central area) from Karol Bagh (where the hotel was) using Delhi’s metro train system during morning rush hour.

The Tokyo subway has competition from these guys. We had to split the group across three doors just to manage to jam us all on and we still lost two people (they caught up one train later). It was so crowded we couldn’t fall over even if we wanted too. At one stop a guy got on with a loaded gym bag. He just threw it on top of the crowd and let it crowd surf for 2 stops while he clinged to one corner. Three stops later we all piled out laughing.

We wound our way from the metro station through the decaying streets and alleys of the Chandi Chowk area, toward our first stop a Sikh temple called Sisganj Gurudwara.

Although we couldn’t take pictures in the main hall they were very accommodating. We were expected to cover our hair (men and women alike) and to walk in our bare feet. The marble steps leading in were lightly flowing with water so that we could wash our feet and heads.

The temple offers food to anyone who comes for it so we toured there kitchen which was buzzing with people making large batches of Na’an bread, vegetable curry, confections and sweetened buttermilk. Followed by the dining hall, which only had a few people but had a constant turn over.




Off to our next stop, we pressed back into the alleys. The narrow twisting lanes are covered in a canopy of haphazard electrical wiring. Crawling on, around and through these live wires are families of untamed monkeys.

Next we arrived at the Jama Masjid mosque. One of the world’s largest, capable of holding 25,000 people for prayer.

Basically it’s a massive courtyard rimmed with red-stone walls, structures and minarets. I paid the extra 100 rupees (about $2.25) to climb the tallest minaret. I didn’t find out until after that unaccompanied women weren’t allowed in the tower, preventing my fellow Canadians Sheryl and Lauren from checking it out. It may have been just as well, there was only one tiny stairwell to get up and down and there was many a spot where people had to put their backs to the wall and squeeze past one another. About half way up a woman with two men started yelling at me to back down so she could pass but I had no where to go and I wasn’t going to go back to the bottom just to start the climb over. Besides she was smaller than several people I had already squeezed by. It turns out the issue was religious. I had to cover my eyes as she passed.

On the way out we had to cough up 10rps for the guy who was watching our shoes. There is always another cost around here but it literally is nickels and dimes most of the time.
We followed the Mosque with an exterior viewing of The Red Fort. India actually has two Red Forts and we’ll get to see the inside of the more interesting one to the south. I wonder about the scale of that one because this one was massive.
That was just the morning. We had the afternoon free to walk around so our tour guide who we call Perry because we have not mastered his Indian name, took us to a restaurant he thought we’d like in the Conaught Circle area, gave us directions home and left us to our own devices.
The place was called “Rodeo” and it turned out to be Tex Mex themed. The staff was even dressed in bad cowboy outfits and the barstools were made of saddles. We sat down, hemmed and hawed for a few minutes, then decide to go find some real Indian food.
Lauren found a good suggestion in her lonely planet guide and we were off. About 12 of us meandered and somehow managed with the help of the locals to find our way to Rajdhani, an Indian Tali place.

Tali is kind of like Indian Tapas. We got large metal plates filled with smaller plates and bowls of all kinds of flavours and dishes. Entirely vegetarian and delicious. You could also get endless refills on the food.

By the time we left the restaurant and had figured out where we were heading and how to get there the group had wittled down quite a bit. So four of us piled into a Tuktuk and took off for the India Gate war memorial.

It was a wild ride with Lauren sitting on Sheryl’s lap, Nick, the British Grandfather situated on my hip and me with a knee poking outside the cab. As we laughed our way down the road a Tuktuk with 7 people in it passed us, and at one traffic jam a beggar girl climbed right in and tried to sell us pens.

We arrived at the India Gate just in time for the sun to start setting, casting the great stone arch in orange hues.

After a wander around we worked our way down the Rajpath toward the Presidential Estate and caught the metro back to our hotel. We were very impressed with ourselves for navigating the transit system on our own.
After a low-key dinner with our tour guide, Perry helped me find an ATM that worked for me and we walked around Karol Bagh, which was still as busy as ever at night.
Back at the hotel, we had tea, packed and we were read for the road to Jaipur!

Adventure: India!

I’m off on another adventure. Now that I’ve crossed Japan, Australia and New Zealand off my list, I’ve decided this time would be India!

I’m taking a four-week tour that covers both the north and the south but skips the middle so I’ll take a flight to Mumbai to check it out on my own before heading for home.

Because of security I needed to be at Pearson airport at 3:45 am, 3 hours ahead of my 6:45 am flight for India. I don’t react well to getting up early but pulling an all nighter was just up my alley, especially if it would help me make the time change!

So the night before my flight I came home from work, did some final prepping, followed by 7pm a screening of Avatar with Jenny and a 10pm concert with Corey. The Skydiggers is my favorite live band and their annual Christmas show is a personal tradition. Being able to squeeze it in just hours before departure meant a lot to me.

From the show Corey drove me by my place to pick up my bag and we were off to the airport.

The flight was straight forward and long. I slept as best I could on and off. Apparently Air India is notorious for delays so leaving fifteen minutes late was considered a coup. By the time we reached Delhi the slow downs had snowballed and we landed 2 hours late plus I had to wait nearly an hour for my luggage to show up and baggage. I think the girl beside me missed her connection to Mumbai.

But when I came out of the airport something cool happened to me that has never happened to me before. I was greeted with a personalized sign and driver to my hotel.

It was an immediate immersion into the madness that is Indian traffic. The lines on the road are not even considered as suggestions, traffic lights are rare and vehicles accelerate suddenly and break within inches of whatever is in front of them.

For all that, there seems to be a structure in the chaos, a ballet of pedestrians, bicycle rickshaws, cars and Tuktuks. Tutuks are the three wheeled auto-rickshaws that are like overgrown vespas with a bubble shaped shell that you always see in photos of Delhi.

After dropping my bags and meeting my roommate for the night Nick (a recently divorced grandfather from the U.K.) I did a short walk about in search of a cash machine and to see the neighborhood.

With no luck in finding an ATM that both accepted my card and had money in it I returned to the Sky Rich hotel where the full tour group had an initial meeting followed by an excellent dinner.

The group looks like a good and varied bunch. Ages range from early 20’s to Nick who I believe is in his early 60’s. They cover New Zealand, Australia, England, Belgium, Denmark and of course Canada. In fact I’m one of 4 Canadians and we’re getting along famously.

All Jew, All Day!

(Me and the 3D Night Watch)
Saturday was a mix. I needed a couple of exterior shots which put us in line to see a few sights I’d been hoping to catch.
We started with a shot of the boarding house where my grandfather lived when he first moved to Amsterdam from the town of Enschede, we think it’s were he met my grandmother. She lived in the boarding house as well.

Around the corner was the Hollandsche Schouwburg. A pre war theatre that was used as a staging camp for deporting jews to concentration camps. All that’s left now is the Facade.

(Dutch Jewish Star)

(Jewish War Children)

(Jews Forbidden)
Around the opposite corner was the Resistance Museum commemorating the Dutch WWII resistance movement and relative war events. It really gave a more personal feel to that time. The most amazing thing was a map they had up that showed the concentration of the Jewish population in Amsterdam.

(Nazi map of the Jewish population concentration)
Each black dot represented 10 Jews. Over the apartment block where my father was born and returned after the war, there was a single dot that probably included him, my uncle John, grandfather, and grandmother.

(My families dot, just left of the building marked "Concert-Geb")
As we worked our way west we stopped at Rembrandt’s house. He’s a favorite of mine and the last time I was in Amsterdam it was closed for renovations. I was so glad to finally get inside.

(The Rembrandt House)
It has some of his work but it’s mainly a reproduction of what the house was like when he lived there. How does this fit the days jewish theme? He lived on the Jodenbreestraat, or the “Jewish Broad Street,” the heart of Dutch Jewish life in Rembrandt’s era.

(Check the blue street sihn above the neon sign)
We sauntered through the flower market district and the area behind the palace as we made our way to the Anne Frank House. When we got there late in the afternoon the line was still around the block, as it often is. We decided not to wait and got a picture of a small Anne Frank monument instead. Maybe we would see it later.

(Anne Frank Memorial)
After a stop back at the apartment to clean up and rest we headed back out Chai’s house at the edge of the city, not far from where Joop and Johan both live. Chai is a cousin of my father and a brother to Bennie. He’s the youngest of three siblings in that family and the most Orthodox. Their had been much going back and forth about where we could be hosted for a seder (the ceremonial dinner had on the first 2 nights of Passover). The only big concern with Chai’s place was that as an orthodox jew he couldn’t start until about an hour after sundown (less religious folk tend to relax the timing rules) which meant that between the prayers and the meal it would be a very late night. But Dad and i are both night owls and were happy both to be invited and to get to see Chai and his family. It was especially nice because as the owner of one of the few kosher food store in town, it’s his busy season.
Actually Chai ran a pretty tight ship, although he didn’t skip any parts he kept things rolling and we were done by 2am, which may sound late but Dad and I had made an estimate of 4. So a cab ride later we were happy, full and getting enough sleep to prepare us for the nest day .... “The Grand Holland Tour Deluxe!”

Shoot!

(Lay-O)
Thursday and Friday were heavy with filming. Thursday Dad and I hit the locations we scouted earlier in the week, starting with my Grandfather’s post war office building. I saw that it got nasty shadows in the afternoon so we needed to hit it in the morning but the clouds came rolling in just as we got there. So we waited it out with Leo the cat (pronounced Lay-O) and breakfast in a cafe across the canal. Yes, apparently dutch restaurants have no rules about animals inside.

(The capitol of Opa's office building)
As soon as things cleared we started shooting, then I realized I may have screwed up the focus, so we shot some more. We followed this with a return to the apartment because it was also Dad’s childhood neighborhood.
We got good footage of the Museumplein, the park where Dad used to play. Back then it was filled with abandoned Nazi bunkers and gun turrets. This was his playground.
Although there is one shot of a woman pulling her pantyhose out of her rear on the left of the screen unaware that she was being filmed. Meanwhile my dad was on screen right, narrating, oblivious to the other action.
As well we got shots of his former street and the door to his old home which was right behind the Amsterdam Concert Building. Plus a series of roving shots around his neighborhood and his route to school.

(Carnival in the Palace Square)
That gave us the night off to check out the touristy areas like the Carnival set up in front of the Royal palace for the upcoming Queen’s Day, the red light district and a restaurant that Dad had taken Mom to about 8 to 10 years earlier.
On Friday we were scheduled to see Dad’s Cousin Johan who is almost a decade older than my Dad so he actually remembers what happened to him. Very important. When I had last talked to him it sounded like he only had maybe 2 hours in the morning so it was going to be tight. Plus we would have to drag the heavy camera equipment bag by public transit to the edge of town where he would pick us up from the station.

(Johan in the car)
Friday morning Johan called, he was coming to pick us up! Not only that, he was free for the whole day but best of all Joop had called Johan because he had misplace my number. It turns out he could come over as well and spend some time on camera.
Now I had 2 of the most important members of the Amsterdam contingent covered in one day! Joop could only spare about an hour but we did brilliantly in that time. He was frank, and surprisingly optimistic in talking about tragedy. And like many of the dutch he had the kind of command of the English language that make me sheepishly shamed about my lack of linguistic skill.

(prepping for a walking shot)
Johan’s english was just as clear but a little slower as he searched for words and was filled with thoughtfulness. The only minor hiccup was Johan’s girlfriend’s dog who does not like strangers and had to be sequesterd in the kitchen. A couple of barks got on the audio track but I think it will be fine. Overall a very successful day.

(Angry, angry dog!)

A Day With Bennie And The Day Before.

(Bennie)
Tuesday was moving day. We checked out of the Blue Tower hotel and took the #13 tram into the heart of city and Renee’s apartment. She was a whirlwind of activity getting ready to leave for Israel so once we had our stuff put away we got out of her hair for the day and spent it location scouting.
Unfortunately I lost two interviews that day. In the morning Joop called to tell me that Bettina’s chemo schedule had changed and that our Wednesday morning interview was off. It was a major set back but there seemed to be nothing to do about it. He said if he found another opportunity he would let me know but I wasn’t feeling hopeful.
Renee also bowed out because she was feeling to crunched for time. This was not a major loss, as much as I wanted her perspective she is of my generation and more distant from the story. What I would really need was her father who had just got back from Italy and we had an appointment for Friday.

(Me and Bennie in front of a monument)
Wednesday we spent a full day with my fathers direct cousin Bennie and his girlfriend Faiga (Fay-gu). Benjamin Mouwes (his mother is a Sanders) is kind of the Keith Richards of our family. A former rock band member and zoo keeper who now works as an analyst for the national archives, he’s energetic, talkative and hard to keep track of through a conversation. A real character, perfect for film.

Bennie met us first and after a morning coffee and a quick inspection of a local monument to Jewish resistance we met Faiga at the Museum of Jewish History where she works. First we checked out a special exhibition on jewish cartoonists which included the creators of Superman and Will Eisner who can arguably be credited with inventing the very idea of superheroes.

(Early 1900's hebrew language comic strip)
I got some great information from the historical section on how Jews came to Holland and their place in society before the war. They were unusually well treated compared to most of europe but were locked out of most skilled trades so they had to turn to peddling, money lending, diamond trading and printing. Jews had the market cornered on publishing in Holland through much of the 17th and 18th century.

(A Torah published by Dutch Jewish printers)
I was amazed to find out that the Nazis forced the textiles factory in the town of Enschede to make the yellow stars that the Jews of Holland had to sew to their clothes during WWII. Enschede is the Dutch town on the German border where my grandfather was born and from what I understand relatives of mine worked there during that period.

(A bolt of fabric with yellow stars with the Dutch word "Jood")
After the museum we also took a wander through the giant Portuguese Synagogue across the street. Faiga tried to keep Bennie on a tight leash through out so he wouldn’t disturb the other patrons. She seems to be as much his den mother and biggest fan.
During a very late lunch Dad, Faiga, and I managed to wrestle him into not only doing an interview but to do it that night!

(Amsterdam's Portuguese Synagogue)
A misplaced dinner reservation and a multi-venue hunt for another dining location caused a late start but by 9pm Bennie was sitting and talking up a storm. I think I got some great stuff. But I think my own little moment of genius was to then put him at a table with my dad and a couple of cups of coffee and just let them talk on film.
I’m starting to feel like a film is happening but there is still a long long way to go.

The Keukenhof and Thea

On Monday we we’re invited by cousin Renee to have an after dinner tea with what seems to be a distant relation that we didn’t know about. This left us with the whole day free since we were still sorting out when we would be meeting up with all the the other family members.

Dad had spotted some pamphlets for bus tours in the hotel lobby including an afternoon tour of De Keukenhof which translates as “The Kitchen Garden.” It’s a sort of all year flower show that has it’s high point in the spring. The specialty is of course Tulips. Apparently it started as the “little kitchen garden” of some local noble woman and that of course means it covers several acres.



I had no strong opinion on it but dad seemed excited about the idea. He had been once before with mom about 10 years ago and wanted to share it. It reminded me of the time when he use to teach an adult ed photography course. He would end each term with a trip to the Allen Garden’s green house so it seemed an opportunity we couldn’t pass up.



It was a beautiful but slightly brisk day. You can see the results for yourself. The place was also a bit of a minor theme park with sugary waffles and a real punch card organ grinder that played a mix of classical music and 80’s hits.



Once we got back into the city, we grabbed a bite at the last kosher sandwich shop in Amsterdam (It seems the hub of the Jewish community has moved to the suburbs) and went to meet Thea Koster-Sanders and her husband. Her connection to us actually goes back further than my grandfather Bendix to his uncle, her grandfather.

I don’t think what we learned will do much for the film but I did like seeing he old photos of these strange people who all looked a little familiar. As well it’s nice to know I’m connected to a bright, charming, successful psychotherapist.



We did find out one interesting thing that could really help. Apparently a shared relation in israel has developed an even more precise family tree than the one I got from Joop some years back. Thea had a copy on her computer and it included her AND me. This means I can track my family from before the Napoleanic census to some time last week. She gave me his contact info and I’m going to follow up to get my own copy.

Joop

(Dad making calls)
Between a wonderful late night in Utrecht and jet lag, wakefulness was in short supply come Sunday morning. Dad and I got up. had the hotel’s pricey breakfast buffet, ran some local errands, made some calls and then proceeded to fall asleep again for a notable chunk of the afternoon.
The main errand was a search for a camera adapter that I couldn’t find in my video bag after we arrived and that I really needed. The search was fruitless but of course a few days later, I found the stupid thing tangled up in a dark corner of my bag.
The calls were all to arrange meetings with my local relatives all of whom had been e-mailed explicitly about my film project and most have whom had committed to at least some kind of get together. Of course now that I was here it was quickly starting to become like herding cats. People were away, people were coming back, people were leaving soon. ... and I don’t mean leaving the house, leaving the country!
It’s easy as you get frustrated to start laying blame for this stuff on everyone else but one of the major problems was in good part my fault. Our visit crosses over the Jewish holiday of Passover. I had this romantic notion of a sort of Hebraic Norman Rockwell scene unfolding as my father returned to the old country to be welcomed with open arms, and I would film it all! ... but like any holiday from any background, everyone was very busy cooking and cleaning and arranging to see family and very short on time.
Two particular family members had a much bigger problem to face. My fathers cousin Joop (pronounced like YO with a “p” on the end) and his wife Bettina had found out recently that she has cancer. It sounds like the diagnosis is comparatively optimistic but she was to start treatment the next week. As well they are fairly Orthodox so once both treatment and passover start overlapping they were just going to be overwhelmed. But they still wanted to see us before things got crazy, so late Sunday afternoon Joop picked us up to take us to his home on the south end of Amsterdam for dinner.

(Joop comes to pick us up)
Along the way he stopped off at the first home where my father (Hans) was reunited with his parents after the war, a place dad didn’t even recall. Finally some filming!
The reason Joop knew the location so well, My grandfather also took in Joop because he was a nephew and had been orphaned by the holocaust. They all lived there together. Which is why I wanted so badly to interview him. Plus it seems Joop has a much stronger sense of recollection than my dad.

(Dad's first post war home)
Funnily when I pulled the camera out to film the house, Joop moved the car to a new parking spot. He was nervous that his car would be targeted by thieves if they saw me pulling out expensive equipment. We thought he was being a bit over zealous but Dad and I just rolled with it.

(Bettina)
After that it was a very pleasant dinner with Joop and Bettina. I had brought my video camera hoping we could squeeze in a quick interview that night, figuring it would be my only chance. I found myself in the tough position of trying to balance sensitivity for a tough situation and trying to do what it takes to do the job right.
Interestingly I found a strong ally in Bettina. It wasn’t going to happen Sunday night because they had plans after dinner but she made Joop agree to do it Wednesday. It made a kind of sense to me. Bettina had the treatment, it gave her something to do but all Joop can do is wait and fret. I think she wanted to give him the distraction.
So after tea and some proper Dutch apple pie, Joop put us on a tram back to the hotel and I finally felt like the engine of this project was starting to pick up some speed.

(Joop)