Fly Home Duif

He races pigeons – homing pigeons. Much like the type used in WWII.

Duif to the Dutch. These birds can fly home up to 1100 miles. More normal distances are between 200 and 500 miles.

We traveled to the Netherlands for Dad. To discover big game racing. The American Racing Pigeon Union’s 15,000 membership is small potatoes. Compared to Belgium and Holland’s impressive 90,000 roster. Dad engrossed himself into fowl. While Mom and I discovered southern Holland.

Beginning our journey in Breda, the nearest town to our hotel. We were surprisingly delighted. Full of squares, cafés, restaurants, shops, and parks.

We arrived around 9:30 a.m. and there wasn’t a soul around. As if a tour bus stopped. People started filing into the city by 11 a.m.. Filling it to its brim.

After some shopping and a good walk around town. We stopped for a nice, long lunch. Situated in the middle of the main square. My lamb croquettes were one of the best things I have ever tasted.

The outside was perfectly crisp. Not oily. Or soggy. The center was a heavenly mixture of potatoes, lamb, cream, and spices. Served on fresh Dutch bread and mayonnaise spreads. Mom’s club sandwich with local cured bacon was equally divine.

Flinstering Cafe
Grote Markt 23
4811 XL Breda, Nederland
06 25271398

After a full day of Breda we journeyed onward to Rotterdam – Holland’s second largest city – the destination that we eventually met back up with Dad.

A city in its own right. After walking the wrong direction from the train station – we were going on instinct – we found the typical European setting. People congregated around water. Cafés lined up as though they were one establishment. And shops sporting all types for sale.

We spent most of the day walking and talking. Resting for a bit at a café before catching the train back to Paris.

A quick trip indeed. Dad was more than in heaven. An adventure I surely never thought I’d have.