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TRAVELLERvisited the Delta Project, a superimpressivemission to keep the NorthSea at bay. It was built in response toa deadly flood in 1953 when dykes, indisrepair after the war, failed againsta king tide in a big storm. Almost 2000people died, many on the cold roofsof their homes. Apparently, someDutch people keep cognac in theceiling in case it happens again, butthe government took considerableaction. In a massive project overseveral decades, the sea armsbetween the islands of Zeeland wereclosed with dams – all solid except theNorth Sea storm barrier, which is anengineering wonder of concrete piersand iron gates able to open and closeas nature dictates.Other days, other eras, otherextremes: an afternoon pokingaround muted, sleepy Veere; anotherspent cycling along canal paths,past farms, through birdsong forest.We stopped for a breather in a tinyvillage consisting of a church, plusa dozen homes. A barn, its doorsflung open to early spring, reeked ofbucolic cliché. Two farmers returnedour greetings and, having navigatedthe language barrier sufficiently, weedged our careful way in. Shadowyand pungent shapes in wooden pensshifted and snorted. A great flank ofbull rippled. Sheep skittered. Bitsy,seedy, filtered light relaxed to revealcows, heifers, pigs and goats, livingin a warm world of hay and feed andmess, with chooks and barn cats inthe wings. The farmers, no doubtbemused by our fascination withindoor farm animals, encouragedthe lambs closer to our cameras withhandfuls of bread.One morning we woke to a rosetintedscene, in Rotterdam. Thecaptain waited for sunrise, thencruised up into the harbour to showus Europe’s largest port. It was a massof busy, buzzing action. Among thehuge hulls of international ships satmulti-coloured containers, cranes,slips and dry docks, while barges,pilot boats, tugs and ferries plied onpink reflections. On the fringes, backtoward the city centre, apartmentsand office blocks rose high overboulevards, wharves and cycle pathsbusy with morning commuters.Rotterdam was badly damagedin the Second World War so hasrelatively new architecture, some of itquite radical. From half a day spentwandering its core, it seemed a vitaland inviting city. We could happilyhave kept shopping, but needed to getback to the ship to trip downriver toKinderdijk, where a scatter of 700-yearoldwindmills are protected as WorldHeritage objects. Nineteen of thesebeautiful, clever, astounding thingsstand sentinel in the watery landscape,their sails roaring powerfully andmajestically. We climbed into one tosee its workings and its cosy interior,and to learn its story.The history of The Netherlands is,like anywhere, shared with storiesand songs. Various performersboarded the ship in the evenings topass precious snippets on to us. Onenight, a trio performed classical andCLOCKWISE FROM LEFT: The River Empress,home for 10 days, moored at Veere; houseboatson an Amsterdam canal; Rubens poses inAntwerp; a duck's eye view of Bruges.gypsy music; another evening featureda local choir singing Dutch folk songs.Before we reached Amsterdam and itswealth of art museums, an art historianboarded for a preparatory lecture.It was the visit to Nuenen, whereVincent Van Gogh was born, thatmost effectively prepared me for adecent dose of his art, though. Noneof his paintings are in Nuenen, butthe landscape is familiar and somebuildings from his work – including StClemens church – survive, as does hisfamily home. An excellent museumand tourist talking posts around thesmall town reveal much of this highlysignificant artist’s terribly sad life.I carried this insight to the satelliteHermitage in Amsterdam which washosting Van Gogh’s art while thecity’s museum dedicated to him isbeing renovated. His rich, exuberantwww.aadirections.co.nz 73