Netherlands Remembrances; 80 years after the Occupation

How does a thrifty minded traveler go back and forth to Europe without breaking the bank?

It can be done. With my son Phil now studying at the University of Groningen for a second degree (this one in computer science), I definitely needed to find ways to economize for my desired frequent visits.

First consideration – air fare.

It has been my experience that the cheapest flights can be found as soon as they become available (approximately 330 days out) as well as at the six month mark. Occasionally, I have found deals as late as six weeks before flying but this can be risky, especially if traveling in high season.

When booking my return trip to the Netherlands for March of 2017, I found the cheapest round trip ticket (by hundreds) on Delta Airlines; if I flew out of Newark, New Jersey (90 miles from my home). With Newark’s airport reachable by train, I booked the ridiculously inexpensive ticket without logging out.

• Before researching flights for your travel dates, be ready to push the button if you see a good fare. If you log out and come back, even just minutes later, your great deal may be gone.

Flying in and out of Newark wasn’t as easy as I hoped but despite the freezing precipitation and getting delayed at my transfer station in Trenton, I made it to Newark Liberty with several hours to spare. This was as good a time as any to spend a bit more money to enjoy the Delta Sky Club. With my gold status, the relatively low daily fee made this a great spot to kill a few hours before boarding my over six hour trans-Atlantic flight.

Is it worth spending the money for lounge privileges? Absolutely I say, especially if you have considerable down time before or between flights. Each airline lounge has different access rules. Before traveling, check either with your airline credit card company or specific airline to confirm the privileges attached to your airline status and/or credit card.

Before I knew it, I arrived in Amsterdam ready to hit the country running. Since Phil planned to stay in the Netherlands indefinitely, I made the touristy decision to explore a new Dutch city at each visit.

This trip? "X marks the spot" on The Hague and Madurodam —-instantly falling in love with both.

Named after George Maduro, a Dutch law student who fought against the Nazis as both a soldier and a member of the Dutch resistance, Madurodam is a spellbinding miniature "amusement" park for all generations. Inside its gates, you will visualize in 1:25 scale, all the best the Netherlands has to offer including architecture, aviation, agriculture, and supreme engineering control over water.

Maduro tragically died at Dachau just two months before the concentration camp was liberated by American forces in April 1945. In memory of their son, Maduro’s parents provided the funds to build this incredibly engaging play land. Almost all of the park's revenues still support charities in the Netherlands today.

If you can visit the beautiful Hague in the Netherlands, take the short tram ride to Madurodam. You can put your luggage in easy to use lockers on the lower level of the train station if you are in transit to another destination later in your day.

The park's magic is intoxicating. You’ll leave promising a return trip soon with family and friends to share with them the amazing engineering and architectural art displayed in miniature.

Phil's Home City of Groningen, in miniature

Madurodam's "Schiphol Airport" is a mechanical marvel. Note our feathered friend "working the tower".

Speaking of airports, my Dutch friend Willy gave me great travel advice that has since served me well.

• No matter where visiting in Europe, if your return flight to the US departs in the morning, it is highly advisable to stay at a nearby airport hotel the evening before your flight.

Thank goodness I heeded her advice for this trip in particular.

My return flight was booked for 10 am on Friday March 24, 2017. Remembering Willy's travel tip, I reserved a room at Schiphol's hip Citizen M for Thursday night, March 23rd. The ultra modern, tech minded hotel is easy walking distance to the terminals.

Late morning on the 23rd, Phil escorted me to the Groningen train station to see me off. As soon as we grew near the busy train station, something seemed amiss. First, a large crowd had gathered at the information booth. More worrisome, no trains were in sight. Uh-oh.

After inquiring, Phil relayed the troubling news. Train service had been suspended due to their being a “jumper”. In 2017, 215 people took their own lives by jumping in front of a speeding Dutch train. Sadly, such an event had just occurred between Groningen and the airport (almost 124 miles from Groningen.

Time for Plan B and thankfully, I had plenty of it.

Knowing that Phil had a class to run off to, he explained that all I had to do was board one of the buses just dispatched to take me to a train station on the other side of the incident. From there, I could continue by train to the airport.

With a big hug, we said our goodbyes. I watched Phil disappear in the growing crowd. Turns out I was just one of hundreds (or more) wishing to travel south that day by train.

As the minutes ticked by, folks started to gather roadside waiting for the coming buses. Concerned, but not panicked, I felt grateful that my flight wasn’t leaving that day. What seemed like an hour was probably only 30 minutes before the first bus appeared. Suddenly I felt like I’d been transported to Times Square on New Year's Eve.

As soon as the bus pulled up, a throng of mostly young people pushed their way toward the doors. The bus driver stepped out to open the lower hatches for luggage. Throwing myself into the mix, I quickly threw my two suitcases into the cavernous space into the belly of the bus and made for the rear door.

Being more or less thrust forward up the bus steps, I frantically looked around for a vacant seat. All appeared taken, and so quickly. Another traveler, a gentleman close to my age, appeared as beleaguered as I did. The bus driver calmly explained that all passengers must have a seat to travel. Resigned, we both turned back toward the bus exit.

My luggage!! It was still underneath the bus!

I clambered down the steps and retrieved my suitcases buried under the mound of luggage belonging to the the lucky passengers who had captured a seat. The business suited stranger retrieved his own before the bus doors closed. Without further fanfare, the bus departed, leaving the still growing crowd to wonder how long before other buses would appear.

While waiting roadside, "stranger man" and I discovered that both of us needed to get to Amsterdam's Schiphol (pronounced "skip pole") Airport. Unfortunately for him, his flight was scheduled to depart late that afternoon. He appeared to be taking this fact in stride however.

Thankfully, within 30 minutes, another two buses rolled up.

“You get two seats and I’ll put your suitcases in the hold,” offered my new friend. This seemed like a brilliant idea. Sure enough, when the doors opened, a calm but persistent mob energetically moved forward to board the second 55 passenger bus. More determined than ever, I put on my big girl city pants. I hadn't lived in Philly for 20 years without learning how to assert myself when needed. Blending into the mass of bodies, I became more or less propelled up the bus steps once again.

Quickly, I jumped into a vacant window seat, placing my personal item next to me for my gallant travel companion. Within minutes, he sat down, reassuring me that my luggage was safely stowed in the underneath compartment.

As the bus started, I realized I had zero idea of where we were going. In those days, I had no access to phone service or a map. Not worried, I knew the bus was traveling in the general direction I needed to go. Things would surely get sorted out once we reached our destination about an hour away in the city of Zwolle.

My traveling companion introduced himself as Mardo from Israel. Quickly we traded the usual basic facts one does when first meeting: hometowns, family, why we were in Groningen. Guest lecturing at the University, he said he was affiliated with Radio Free Europe/Radio LIberty in Tel Aviv. He knew the Netherlands well. His grandparents were from Groningen actually. As the bus passed near the city of Assen, he shared his amazing family story.

In the years leading up to the German occupation, his grandparents lived in Groningen with about 2800 other registered Jews. As the horrors of the Holocaust unfolded, his grandparents were among those rounded up and taken to a nearby Jewish ghetto near Assen to await deportation to a concentration camp.

Tragically, only 10% of Groningen area Jews lived through the horrors of the Holocaust. Centuries old Groningen communities were literally wiped from the earth. Miraculously, Mardo's grandparents did survive. How lucky I felt to meet this man; a descendent of heroic survivors of one of most horrific time periods in human history.

Our bus ride passed quickly. Mardo expressed concern that he would probably miss his flight to Tel Aviv but he didn’t let this fact keep him from being perfectly wonderful company. After disembarking, Mardo kindly retrieved my bags. We wished each other well before he hurriedly disappeared into the crowd.

I never saw my travel angel again but the story he shared with me that early spring afternoon will stay in my mind and heart forever.

Somehow, I figured out the correct train to take me on to Schiphol Airport. After many hours of a wayward journey, I finally reached the Citizen M in the early evening. Exhausted, I felt even more relieved that I had heeded Willy’s advice to stay close to the airport before my morning flight.

It turned out to be a blessing to be a stranded train rider this trip. Fueled by a quest to learn more, it felt time to expand my horizons further. Paris? London? Oh heck, next trip, I think I'll see both.