the village and the bicycle - a peek into the Dutch childhood

Today, Cathie and I returned to the 1960s - a time of our childhood. There was no time travelling involved. We simply arrived, by bicycle, at the village of Yerseke located on the eastern shore of an estuary in the Dutch province of Zeeland. It�s famous for the oysters harvested nearby. But it should be widely known as one of the nicest friendliest places in Europe.

We arrived to our accommodation admirably early and were welcomed by Meinte, the tall handsome owner who has converted the old Catholic Church, Sint Anna, into a beautiful bed and breakfast. He proudly showed us around his artistry, including the upper deck which he rents out to community groups as a meeting place. Our room had high ceilings and its own courtyard. He suggested a restaurant for the evening and booked a table, making sure we had the best seat in the place. We didn�t know that at the time, of course.

Cathie and I walked around the village in the late afternoon. We immediately noticed there were children of all ages everywhere. As we were walking down a narrow alley, a young girl of ten approached us carrying a box. She started speaking to we strangers in Dutch. It appeared to both of us she was maybe selling Girl Guide cookies (or perhaps the Dutch version). When we tried to explain we didn�t speak Dutch, she smiled and waved goodbye. Later we saw two young boys carrying a similar box. In a chemist, two other girls had just sold a packet of waffles to the old lady behind the counter who engaged them in a long cheerful conversation. 

Around the next corner, five children were playing soccer in the street. Not on the footpath, but in the middle of the street. To an Australian, this seemed inherently dangerous. What about the traffic? We began to notice that each of these groups of children were not accompanied by parents. Other children were cycling solo, or in pairs, around the streets of the village. No-one on a bike was wearing a helmet.

The village seemed to be swarming with happy children at play. Cars drove slowly along the streets and adults rode bicycles on errands. But no-one was looking after the children. They were joyously liberatingly happily free. Cathie and I ordered a beer each at an outdoor cafe and watched the life of the village unfold. 

I began to notice certain design features of the village. We were sitting at a table perhaps one metre from the street. There was no gutter to delineate between footpath and street. The street was paved with bricks which served to noticeably slow the traffic. Motorists, obviously aware that their �space� was shared with pedestrians and cyclists, reacted accordingly, slowing to between 10 and 20 kph. The noise of car tyres on the paving stones meant that everyone knew when a vehicle was approaching. And yet, no-one on a bike swerved towards the (non-existent) gutter. They just happily continued on their way, at about the same pace as the car. In such a shared space, it seemed as if the natural goodness of we humans took over - it wasn�t the biggest object that had precedence but the smallest, the most fragile.

This village was for people, not cars.

This village was for children. They lived in a community which cared about their safety, not by locking them behind closed doors to play with a computer or by transporting them to afternoon sports practise in a four-wheel-drive, but by creating an environment where the whole village was their playground - from the street to the waterfront.

It reminded us both of our childhood, where after school was a time to run wild, play with your mates and to have adventures. Where the bicycle was the vehicle for the endless possibilities of the afternoon. 

The next morning as we cycled away from the B&B, the roads were teeming with children riding to school, laughing, talking as they cycled in the street. There were cars about, but no-one seemed to pay them any heed. I looked, but could not see a child in any car. 

Yerseke was developing a healthy independent bunch of young citizens. The bicycle was at the centre of this admirable accomplishment.




I've written three travel ebooks on my cycling adventures across Europe. They sell for between $2.99 and $3.99, depending on which currency you use. You can visit my Amazon page here for the USA; here for the UK and here for Australia