By Arnold Jansen op de Haar

‘The number of confused Dutch people abroad is increasing’, ran the headline in one of the Dutch newspapers. Embassies are coming across it far more frequently. In Madrid, a Dutchman was spotted directing the traffic stark naked.

There were also some Dutch people who, during a spiritual journey across India, had lost touch with reality. I myself have just returned from a holiday camping in the Ardennes.

I live in London, but all of a sudden I found myself on a camping holiday in the Ardennes, with my girlfriend who lives in the Netherlands. To be more precise, right in the middle of the area that saw the heaviest fighting during the Battle of the Bulge (Dec 1944–Jan 1945).

It’s therefore not surprising that, when we took the dog for a walk in the woods bordering the campsite, she (the dog is called Marley – after Bob Marley – but it’s a she) refused to move an inch on the pitch black path. I said to my girlfriend, ‘must be wild boar’, but obviously it must have been the wandering dead soldiers. (I’m sensitive to these kinds of things.)

Because during the holiday I’d been reading The Zone of Interest by Martin Amis, a novel about a concentration camp, I suddenly said to my girlfriend: ‘Our relationship has lasted as long as the Second World War.’ That required some explaining.

It had been some time since my last camping holiday, but most of my camping holidays have been in the Ardennes.

Over the years, some things have stayed the same. In my opinion you should not carry a toilet roll, openly and for all to see, across the campsite, but as far as I could see I was the only one who thought this.

I had a shower (one for men, one for women, and one unisex shower) at the most unlikely times, to avoid running into other holidaymakers. In the morning, when shaving and brushing my teeth, I shuddered when some one wished me ‘good morning’. I find it impossible to brush my teeth while someone further along is having a shit. Not to mention the reverse.

‘Let’s invite that lovely Scot and his wife to join us by the camp fire,’ my girlfriend suggested on our last evening, but I wasn’t up for it. I also scuppered suggestions to go canoeing (‘if I fall into the cold water, it’s bound to be bad for my heart’) and go for long walks (‘not in these shoes’), because ‘I went through enough adventures before I turned 33 to last me two lifetimes’.

Actually, I did chat to some one on the campsite, but he was a three-year-old.

‘I’m three,’ Vince said and stuck up his fingers. It’s actually quite difficult to stick up three fingers at the same time.
‘Are you her brother?’ my girlfriend asked, pointing to a little girl a short distance away.
‘Yes, that’s my sister,’ Vince replied; he was already well aware of the fact that he was the centre of all attention.
He stroked the dog and asked if it was a boy or a girl.
‘She’s a lovely dog,’ Vince said, with a delightful Flemish accent. ‘She’s giving me kisses.’
Marley turned on her back. She likes to have her belly stroked.
Vince watched, full of attention.
‘Where does her poo come from?’ he asked.
His mother, who had just arrived, said he was very interested in animals’ anatomy. ‘He even brings worms into the house.’
After that, Vince went for a short walk among the cows, because he ‘was not afraid of them’.
The cows, however, were frightened by his toy dip net.

In short, I wasn’t confused and didn’t need assistance from the embassy. I did keep myself a bit to myself, but I was with my girlfriend, with whom I’ve been in a relationship for as long as the Second World War lasted, though it’s a bit jollier.

And although, as my girlfriend remarked, our initials spell A&E, which, I had to point out to her, stands for Accident & Emergency, camping did me a lot of good. Oh yes, and I highly recommend that book by Martin Amis.

© Arnold Jansen op de Haar
© Translation Holland Park Press