Quick Trips (Part Two): Brussels and Amsterdam

Martin Luther King Day today, January 15, 2024. One of the nice things about our school here in Berlin is that it observes both German and American holidays, and King's Day, as some of you well know, is important to me. Indeed, it's perfectly fitting I get to share a bit of it with you... Let's see, carrying on from where I left off, Christmas comes and goes, and then--ah, yes, Katy and Bob packed just Suzy and me up for another visit to their favorite Belgium.

Now, we had planned this trip a while ago, but since making that plan, Katy found out that she landed a new job in Brussels (yahoo!); so we also checked out her new hood. But our main business was a square look at unqualified greatness.

That's Mathieu van der Poel, and, needless to say, he's a bit more of a draw than even a Belgian waffle. Katy and Bob, Suzy and I rented a car, and drove up to Mechelen (that first photo, actually), abandoning our children in order to watch Cyclo Cross. What is that? Cyclo Cross is like an obstacle speed-course for some of the best bikers in the world. We went early, bought some brats and frites, and found what we thought would be the best spot to watch the race.

Doesn't Suzy look happy? Well, this is where her meal ended up.

How? So Suzy was struggling to get her meal properly organized in her two hands. I offered three times to help, but, strong, independent woman that she is, she refused, and decided to balance her frites on a wobbly wooden pole instead. She switched her brat hand, and was all but ready to successfully uptake her frites again. I think she even managed a first bite. But then it happened. Maybe it was the cold. I don't know, but right when I was about to be so impressed with her, she bobbled the frites and then proceeded to throw them and her brat up, into the air, explosion-like, and right onto the race course. It was hilarious--all the more so for being perfectly egregious. How the other spectators looked at us. Never fear, Bob grabbed a long stick and was able to sweep most of Suzy's dinner back under her feet before the next group of riders came by... Anyway, the spot we had was at the bottom of a steep hill. First place would go by,

second place soon after,

and then the rest would scramble to try to catch up.

Lap after lap after lap. First the women, then the men. You see this guy?

His name is Wout van Aert, a local, and as predicted, he destroyed the competition, but I think he was just glad he made it through the race that day without getting pegged in the head with Suzy's wiener. That's my lady.

Actually, the picture above is from the second day of racing. We found another great spot. The riders would ride sideways across a steep, wet slope,

then dip into total muck,

and yet somehow still fly by us--if not right over us. It was incredible. Yeah, it was a great spot. Now, here is that first guy again, van der Poel.

He is Dutch, and a once in a generation talent. You see that shirt. It means he's a world champion. He blew everyone away, even Wout (--though that was a couple of days later). But I'm telling you, once or twice I had to step back so he didn't run right into me. Imagine that! That's like patting the shoulder of Messi, or Gretzky, Alexia Putellas while he or she is playing in a career-defining championship game--while he or she is doing the very move for which they will be most remembered. Jonny, it would be like hanging onto to Michael Jordan's shirt while he floats through the air. Yep, we were there!

And we were here

and here, too.

But mainly we were here.

But then in Amsterdam, we ran into a whole different type of greatness--one that inspires me endlessly, powerfully.

Charlie, Scout, Suzy and I trained it up to the Netherlands.

(Kiefer was with a friend and his family down in Garmisch--southern Germany).

This was our second trip to Amsterdam, and we were on a mission.

No, not to get the Van Stapele famous chocolate cookie, nor even to go to the highly recommended Rijks Museum,

where we saw a little of this,

and did a little of that.

Our main purpose was the Anne Frank Huis. And it is with this I want to close on this Martin Luther King Day, 2024. There are no pictures (they don't allow you to take them), and, surely, none of you need to be reminded of Anne's story, but once again, a museum in Amsterdam left me in tears. Anne's spirit, a child's spirit, is divine and undimmed. Her journal (the red one that Miep salvaged, and into which she poured all her truth and hope) is a clear miracle. But it was Otto's example that spoke to me anew--that speaks to me now. About him, both during and after the worst kind of tragedy imaginable, I am most grateful, along with so many others, to bear witness... Oh, my friends and family, what would running around the rings of Saturn be compared to what we might find up in an attic? Or in a Birmingham jail, for that matter? With this reminder, we take on the year 2024: yes, catching up, at long last, on life, but mostly, and always, touching base. Let nothing undermine your faith in humanity.

Love to you all, and, of course, gratitude. The DeStefanos