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A bicycle bell tinkled and I looked up and saw a Dutchman in a knit cap coming toward me. As he pedaled by, a fuzzy white head popped up from his bike basket. It was a terrier, chin up, ears perked forward, head tilted curiously to one side. Easy-riding Rover, I thought. The dog was probably enjoying the moment as much as I was.
Its master and I were bicycling through the countryside about 25 miles southwest of Amsterdam, watching Holland's famous flower fields flash by. The terrain was flat, the air crisp and clear, the scenery a splash of dazzling yellow and green. Acres of bright daffodils stretched in every direction. I felt as though I had found bicycle nirvana.
FOR THE RECORD:
Netherlands: An article about the Netherlands on May 28 in Travel included a reference to Dom Square in Amsterdam. The name of the site is Dam Square. —
Perhaps I had. With 13 million bicycles, the Netherlands — or Holland, its regional name — has twice as many bikes as cars and nearly as many bicycles as people. An 11,000-mile system of bike paths, many of which are separate from highways, crisscrosses a nation so small and flat that it's easy to use bicycles to transport people, groceries, even terriers.
It's no wonder the Dutch, along with the Danes, are the undisputed champs of bicycle use. It seems as though everyone rides, including Queen Beatrix and Prime Minister Jan Peter Balkenende.
The country's level terrain and pastoral scenery make it an appealing destination for cycling tourists too, even lightweight riders like me. (My favorite bike trip is two to five hours, with a nice lunch stop somewhere in the middle.) I'm never going to compete in the Tour de France — or even take an organized bike tour — but l get a psychic high from mastering space without the assistance of a gas-powered motor. The rhythms are mesmerizing: the spinning of the wheels, the circular motion of my legs, the measured cadence of my breath.
My plan was to make Amsterdam my base, spending a couple of days exploring the city on foot and a couple of days exploring the countryside by bike. The cycling trips would be short ones. Because I bike about an hour daily at home, I didn't have to worry about training.
The trip was in mid-April, timed to coincide with tulip season, but the weather didn't cooperate. Chilly temperatures delayed the seasonal debut of Holland's famous flowers. I didn't mind. I could see idyllic scenery at my own speed, feeling the wind against my cheeks, smelling the piquant, freshly turned soil.
There was another piquant smell too. I sped up a bit to ride next to my guide, Yvonne Zumpolle, as we biked through cow-studded farmland near the village of Lisse.
"What is that wonderful odor?" I called out.
Yvonne laughed.
"We spray the air with it everyday because tourists like it," she said.
"No, really, what is it?" I pressed.
"Cows," she said. "I think we have as many cows as people here."
I laughed. There were a lot of cows. Handsome black-and-white ones. Just like a tourist poster.
As we rode, I saw other scenes from tourist posters: a windmill standing tall in a flower-filled field, the morning mist rising over a silent canal, picture-perfect farmhouses surrounded by acres of bright green pastureland. All seemed better from bike level.
Business is blooming
MY day had started in central Amsterdam, at the Ibis Amsterdam Centre, a tourist-class hotel with surprisingly nice rooms and surprisingly bad breakfasts. For $160 per night (including the bad breakfast) I wasn't going to complain, because most hotels in this category are $50 to $100 more per night. The hotel was a short block from the train station and the city's tram lines, an easy way to get around this radiant, maze-like city.
I hopped on a tram at 6:15 a.m., bound for the nearby town of Aalsmeer, where tens of millions of flowers and plants change hands each morning at auctions. With other tourists, I strolled along elevated walkways at Bloemenveiling Aalsmeer, a huge international growers' co-op, looking down on tons of field and hothouse flowers — roses, hyacinths, lilies, anthuriums and tulips that were being packed up and hustled off to flower shops around the world. It's a fusion of pinks, purples, oranges, yellows and greens.
Its master and I were bicycling through the countryside about 25 miles southwest of Amsterdam, watching Holland's famous flower fields flash by. The terrain was flat, the air crisp and clear, the scenery a splash of dazzling yellow and green. Acres of bright daffodils stretched in every direction. I felt as though I had found bicycle nirvana.
FOR THE RECORD:
Netherlands: An article about the Netherlands on May 28 in Travel included a reference to Dom Square in Amsterdam. The name of the site is Dam Square. —
Perhaps I had. With 13 million bicycles, the Netherlands — or Holland, its regional name — has twice as many bikes as cars and nearly as many bicycles as people. An 11,000-mile system of bike paths, many of which are separate from highways, crisscrosses a nation so small and flat that it's easy to use bicycles to transport people, groceries, even terriers.
It's no wonder the Dutch, along with the Danes, are the undisputed champs of bicycle use. It seems as though everyone rides, including Queen Beatrix and Prime Minister Jan Peter Balkenende.
The country's level terrain and pastoral scenery make it an appealing destination for cycling tourists too, even lightweight riders like me. (My favorite bike trip is two to five hours, with a nice lunch stop somewhere in the middle.) I'm never going to compete in the Tour de France — or even take an organized bike tour — but l get a psychic high from mastering space without the assistance of a gas-powered motor. The rhythms are mesmerizing: the spinning of the wheels, the circular motion of my legs, the measured cadence of my breath.
My plan was to make Amsterdam my base, spending a couple of days exploring the city on foot and a couple of days exploring the countryside by bike. The cycling trips would be short ones. Because I bike about an hour daily at home, I didn't have to worry about training.
The trip was in mid-April, timed to coincide with tulip season, but the weather didn't cooperate. Chilly temperatures delayed the seasonal debut of Holland's famous flowers. I didn't mind. I could see idyllic scenery at my own speed, feeling the wind against my cheeks, smelling the piquant, freshly turned soil.
There was another piquant smell too. I sped up a bit to ride next to my guide, Yvonne Zumpolle, as we biked through cow-studded farmland near the village of Lisse.
"What is that wonderful odor?" I called out.
Yvonne laughed.
"We spray the air with it everyday because tourists like it," she said.
"No, really, what is it?" I pressed.
"Cows," she said. "I think we have as many cows as people here."
I laughed. There were a lot of cows. Handsome black-and-white ones. Just like a tourist poster.
As we rode, I saw other scenes from tourist posters: a windmill standing tall in a flower-filled field, the morning mist rising over a silent canal, picture-perfect farmhouses surrounded by acres of bright green pastureland. All seemed better from bike level.
Business is blooming
MY day had started in central Amsterdam, at the Ibis Amsterdam Centre, a tourist-class hotel with surprisingly nice rooms and surprisingly bad breakfasts. For $160 per night (including the bad breakfast) I wasn't going to complain, because most hotels in this category are $50 to $100 more per night. The hotel was a short block from the train station and the city's tram lines, an easy way to get around this radiant, maze-like city.
I hopped on a tram at 6:15 a.m., bound for the nearby town of Aalsmeer, where tens of millions of flowers and plants change hands each morning at auctions. With other tourists, I strolled along elevated walkways at Bloemenveiling Aalsmeer, a huge international growers' co-op, looking down on tons of field and hothouse flowers — roses, hyacinths, lilies, anthuriums and tulips that were being packed up and hustled off to flower shops around the world. It's a fusion of pinks, purples, oranges, yellows and greens.
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