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In my imagination, Giethoorn in the Netherlands should be bursting with lush, vivid blossoms, some branches even unable to bear the weight of so many flowers and bending over, hanging them just above the water’s surface. But in reality, Giethoorn in March was completely different from what I had envisioned—it actually had a kind of desolately cool beauty.
The world is vast, the road is long, but never lose the original intention with which you started.
“Next time, let’s go in a different direction. Latin America seems nice.” After leaving Zaanse Schans Windmill Village, I suggested this in the car.
“What’s wrong? Is there a problem?” It was no wonder Mr. Zeng asked. We had been to Europe for several years in a row. Every time we left Europe, we would immediately start looking forward to the next European trip.
I looked out the car window at the scenery rushing by—so barren. As far as the eye could see, there wasn’t a trace of vitality. A hazy mist hovered low over the ground, shrouding not only the bleak, yellowing grass but also the sparse houses, all exuding a lonely sense of age. Was it because of this?
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Along the way, we spoke very little, and the heater in the car was just right—probably creating a world of difference compared to the temperature outside, making us drowsy (and I really did dare to fall asleep!). I don’t know how much time had passed when Mr. Zeng gently nudged my arm with his elbow.
I opened my eyes and was momentarily blinded by the brightness, unable to see anything at first. After a few seconds, as my eyes adjusted to the light, I suddenly realized the scenery outside had changed: the sun was shining brightly, the sky was clear and pleasant. We had passed through the thick fog and were now seeing the beauty of the sunlight. On the grass by the roadside, there were many wind turbines lined up in a row, truly spectacular. The backdrop to the turbines was nothing but blue sky; there were no rolling mountains, no towering trees—nothing that could steal their spotlight.
Giethoorn is a “car-free zone.” Following the instructions of the tourist center staff, we parked our car in a public parking lot outside the village. The parking lot was quite empty, with very few cars, which made me feel a bit suspicious: could this be an ominous sign? Walking along the signs toward the village, we still didn’t see many flowers or patches of grass.
Hey, isn’t spring almost here? What happened to the promised blooming flowers? On the small canals leading to Giethoorn, boats were all docked to the sides—the sense of foreboding instantly multiplied. In my memory, Giethoorn should have been covered in lush, vivid blossoms, some branches even unable to bear the weight of so many flowers and bending over, hanging them just above the water’s surface, while boats slowly navigated the crisscrossing canals, passengers gently lifting the dense branches as they passed and setting them down again once they were through. Ah, what a beautiful place that would be!
But imagination is just imagination—sometimes we let our imaginations get too beautiful. “K8? Finally, I see a few flowers.” Mr. Zeng pointed to the grass by the roadside where a few tiny white flowers were blooming, almost invisible if you didn’t look closely. “Thank goodness, spring has finally arrived.” I replied with a joke, poking fun at our quasi-spring European trip.
In fact, Giethoorn in March was still quiet and deserted: no flowers, no tourists. There wasn’t a single boat on the small canals either. I couldn’t even say the village was “lush with greenery,” but this empty village surprisingly possessed a desolately cool beauty.
Walking along the paths in Giethoorn, I no longer cared so much about the flowers that should have been there but weren’t, nor was I fixated on the monotonous colors: the dull earthy tones actually blended surprisingly well with the surrounding houses.
Occasionally, when I encountered cyclists coming toward me on the path, they would step onto the grass to let me pass, and we would exchange smiles—those were the brightest moments in Giethoorn that day. The grass wasn’t boring either; a few pairs of mallards would walk up from the water, shaking their heads as they went. Mr. Zeng tried to play with them but ended up scaring them away!
Along the edges of the small canals in Giethoorn, there were benches placed at short intervals. I remember we sat on one of them, looking up at the bare branches and the dark, brooding clouds. “Do you think it will rain?” he asked.
I pressed his hands onto the bench and said repeatedly, “Touch wood—We didn’t even bring umbrellas, so it definitely won’t rain!” About a minute later, when I felt a few drops of cold rain on my face, I looked up at him in surprise as he stood there smiling under the drizzle. I saw a thin layer of water on his broad shoulders. When had he become so strong?
“I’m pretty amazing, huh?” As we hurried to take shelter from the rain, he still had the mood to brag. It was only after being married to him for a year that I realized many things weren’t because he was amazing, but because he was attentive. No wonder my backpack was always light—heavy things were always in his.
We walked into a café, probably the only one open in Giethoorn that day. We ordered a beer and a hot chocolate. Even though it was raining outside, we still felt grateful for the tranquility that Giethoorn offered at that moment. Hot chocolate on a cold day is a gift from the heavens.
The rain stopped, the wind died down, the chocolate was finished, the bill was paid, the door was opened—and now, let’s go, no talking, walking toward the car, look left, look right, what if we can’t find the car?
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We walked around, stopped, asked for directions, and realized we were really silly—we missed the turnoff and still had the nerve to ask for help. Just like that, our winding journey to find the car took us a full half hour. (So embarrassing)
This article is authorized content provided by resident blogger [bishdream], originally published in: [Netherlands, Belgium, Portugal, France, Monaco]Small Moments of European Travel | Giethoorn, unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.
Authorized repost from [Tripbaa Fun] Original source: [The Charm of Giethoorn, the Netherlands – Take a Secluded Stroll in Hidden Giethoorn]