A Travel Tale by Stanley Yokell

An organization that sells courses prepared and taught by experts hired my friend and colleague, Carl Andreone and me to teach courses on tubular heat exchanger, inspection, maintenance and repair of tubular heat exchangers, and closed feedwater heaters in their facilities in Amsterdam and The Hague. All told, one or both of us taught there 13 times. This is a story about one of the times we taught in Amsterdam.

Our contract called for us to leave Kennedy International Friday evening on an economy class flight, travel from Schiphol International by train to Vollendam, and book into the hotel where the facilities and classrooms were located. We would have Saturday and Sunday free to recover from Jet lag.

At the time, Carl was somewhat overweight. A problem arose when the lovely KLM stewardesses served dinner sometime after we took off. The tray on which the dinner was to be served would not fit over Carl’s belly. The stewardess solved the problem by moving Carl into first class. Typical of the kind of loyal and caring friend that Carl was, he inveigled the stewardesses into moving me into the first class seat next to him.

On Saturday, after sleeping in, we took pains to make sure that our teaching materials and course notes were placed at all the participants’ desks, that the audio-visual facilities we needed were in working order, and that the microphones we would use were working and that easels with paper and ink sticks were on sight. We would teach in English. Participants would have to have a reasonably good command of the language and there was no need for translation booths, translators and headsets like those needed in courses I taught in Venezuela.

Our preparations done, we contacted people we knew in Amsterdam who had provided some of our teaching materials — mostly videos that explained how their products worked. They invited us to dinner. They were all old friends and the evening was very cordial with little or no discussion of commercial matters. The dinner and wine were splendid. Carl commented that the dinner was not served, but presented.

The people in the Netherlands are very practical. They have a very high proportion of excellent, well trained engineers who have made their country a technical powerhouse. They also have a very practical outlook on people’s sexual needs, and do not let religion based moral strictures impede their satisfaction. Prostitution is legal and regulated. The Dutch government makes sure that the sex workers are healthy. Sex clubs for those who wish to participate are legal and street signs offer the services of companions for the lonely. Presumably the companions also furnish outlets for sexual needs.

Carl Andreone and I were very happily married, with grown children, and we both had grandchildren. Neither of us was interested in the sexual enticements on offer and readily available. But, both of us, having served in the navy during World War II, we were very interested in the maritime museum in the Amsterdam harbor. The Amsterdam maritime museum was designed by Daniël Stalpaert. At the time it was built in 1655 it was an architecture wonder. To construct it on the artificial island created in the Amsterdam harbor, 1800 wooden piles had to be sunk deep into the muddy ground. It is here, that the war ships of the Dutch Republic were equipped. The museum has replicas of the ships that made the Dutch a seafaring power, and that led to their colonies. We agreed to visit the museum on Sunday.

Carl, being a devout Catholic, who rarely missed a Sunday mass, said that he needed to go to church first. I said that I would accompany him. The story of the religious struggles in the Netherlands is a bitter one and Catholicism in the Netherlands is not well regarded. The population is mostly either protestant or secular. Consequently the church to which we went was situated just past the red light district. We took the train from Vollendam station to the Amsterdam central station and walked to the church, passing through the red light district where all was shuttered and quiet.

The service was conducted in Dutch, which neither Carl nor I spoke. Aside from the ceremonies involving the wafer and wine, I participated. It was not much different than a synagogue service. What was very interesting to me is that I knew just about every melody that the congregation sang. Having sung bass in two different choirs, I sang lustily, reading the Dutch words from the prayer book.

When the service was over, there was the customary greeting and hand shaking among the congregants. The man seated behind us shook my hand and said something to me. I smiled and responded, “I’m sorry. I don’t speak Dutch.”

He looked amazed. Almost all the Dutch people speak English fluently. He said to me in English, “But you sang so beautifully in Dutch that I was complimenting you. How did you manage that?”

I answered, “I know all the melodies, love to sing them, and simply read the Dutch words to fit them to the music.”

“Amazing,” he said.

We left the church and headed to the museum where we ate lunch and climbed aboard many of the restored old ships and some of the replicas. The afternoon passed pleasantly and we left the museum to head back to the Amsterdam Central Station. Our walk took us through the red light district that was now wide open and in full swing. Prostitutes in windows beckoned to us as we passed. Signs advertised several sex museums. I thought it was a riot. Carl was appalled that there would be such activity on the Sabbath. He kept shaking his head and muttering, “Unbelievable.”