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Stopping
for a look on Bredestraat. Photo: JH. |
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It
is seven o’clock
in the morning on Wednesday as I write this entry from the
small city of Maastricht in the Netherlands. I am sitting in
my very post-modern room overlooking the courtyard of this
ancient monastery that was converted two years ago into a hotel
called the Kruisherenhotel, by a historically conscious hotel
Dutchman named Camille Oostwegel. This is the second year we’ve
stayed here, as it is also our second visit to the European
Fine Art Fair (known as TEFAF) which opens tomorrow (March
8).
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A
full moon over JFK |
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If I were
in New York, I’d still be fast asleep, having
been up the night before until two preparing this day’s
Diary. However, just having crossed the Atlantiic, my clock
was turned upside down. Last night I hit the sack before midnight,
(6pm New York time) too exhausted to think about anything.
We flew via KLM business class, and although I am not trying
to plug the airline, which I’ve traveled on only once
before, KLM is wonderful. Maybe it’s the Dutch, who are
a very hospitable people when it comes to looking after their
guests, and maybe it’s the airline management also but
KLM does not disappoint or leave you wary of modern management.
The equipment is well-maintained, clean and efficient and the
host staff is courteous, warm and friendly, patient, thoughtful
and yet unobtrusive. Business class is, of course, a big plus
(and lxuury) for long flights if simply because there is room
for the body (a long frame -- 6’4”), not only to
fit, but to stretch out.
At the airport (Schiphol) we missed the driver who had been
ordered for us and finally had to hire a taxi to drive us to
Maastricht. It was a 214-kilometer, two-hour ride through pouring
rain, going at the European speed (between 70 and 90 mph) in
the back of a small Mercedes. The countryside is flat, green
with lots of what looks during this season as barren land constantly
crossed and re-crossed by canals, ponds and man-made narrow
channels marking off what may be farmland.
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Driving
through the countryside |
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Our driver
was a young Turkish man who owns the taxi with his brother
(purchased new in 2005 for 70,000 euros and now clocking
a quarter million km). There was American rock-and-roll on
the car radio, turned down, and the occasional use of the cell
phone with sometimes barely a hand on the wheel as we moved
along down the crowded motorway at 70 to 90 mph. JH dozed off
for most of the trip although I was unable to, kept alert by
the speed we were traveling and by the occasional heaviness
of our driver’s eyelids which I could see in the rearview
mirror.
Whenever it looked to this possibly panicking eye that the
driver might be getting a little dozy, I would loudly ask him
questions about himself, his native land, his family and anything
else I could think of to keep his brain working. He was an
interesting fellow -- in his 20s, fluent in three languages
including his not-bad English which he’d learned entirely
from his three years driving a taxi in Amsterdam. And always
missing his native country which he visited once a year (3600
km drive). So 330 euros (!) later we safely arrived at the
Kruisherenhotel. |
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Left:
The courtyard at the Kruisherenhotel after the
rain.
Below, l. to r.: Walking
past the Cathedral on our way to Cafe Sjiek (right). |
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Last night after a couple hours napping
and some work at the computer we
decided to go out of the hotel to get something
to eat. I had been told on our first trip here
that there was almost no place in Maastricht that
you couldn’t get a good meal, so we asked
the hotel’s attractive hospitality manager, Mildred
Snackers, for a recommendation for something
casual. She recommended a place called Cafe Sjiek
(pronounced sheek, like chic) which she said was
kind of a brasserie/meeting place/ tavern/ restaurant.
She pulled out a map of the city and showed us
how we could get there in a fifteen minute walk.
In New York if someone says a “fifteen minute walk,” I
think taxi. However, being a tourist, the idea of a walk seemed more
interesting. There was a light rain falling when we left the hotel.
The streets in this older part of the town are brick/cobbled and
quiet with the exception of our footsteps, and of people, mainly
students from a nearby university, bicycling hither and yon (occasionally
talking on their cells or smoking a cigarette as they pedaled along). |
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Hundreds
of unchained bikes line the streets
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This
is a city that was created by the Romans (with
some Roman walls still standing), the highest (although
not very) elevation in Holland, and basically unscathed
by all the wars and occupations (including the Nazis
-- the German border is very nearby) throughout its
history. And so it is full of archiitecture from the
ages and eras and remains beautifully and pridefuly
maintained. To the American eye, so used to the old
as derelict to be replaced by the very new, and devoid
of community or ethnic tradition, all of it is a splendid
wonder, even on a quiet, dark, rainy and cold March
night.
JH with his Digital couldn’t resist catching some scenes of our brief foray.
Bicycles everywhere, parked outside the bars and restaurants, NONE with security
chains, mind you.
The Cafe Sjiek sits in a narrow old three-story building on Sint Pieterstraat.
You walk into a bar with a very friendly and industrious bartender. The place
was uncharacteristically uncrowded (although still busy). We sat at the bar while
waiting for a table. JH ordered a house beer which he pronounced very good. I
had a glass of vodka and the bartender showed us the menu, translated some of
the items on it and recited the daily specials. I ordered the Sole Meuniere (last
one left) along with a salad topped with a warmed local cheese. JH ordered the
Sea bass and also a salad topped with veal bits. Excellent. Total bill, without
gratuity: 79.50 euros. |
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| Above,
left and below: Scenes from Cafe Sjiek. |
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| Robin
Berben, owner of Cafe Sjiek. |
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We
met the owner, Robin Berben, a Maastricht
native, who got involved in starting the restaurant about
twenty-five years
ago with some partners and today remains the sole owner. Berben whose
English sounds British to these American ears, reminded me of the
consummate restaurateur -- friendly, congenial, laid-back in his
approach to his clientele and yet all business.
He talked with us about TEFAF which briefly brings a lot of visiting
dignataries to the town from all over the world. He recalled Robert
Noortman who with his wife was a host at a dinner we attended
on our visit last year.
Noortman was the consummate European businessman in appearance, an
art dealer (Rembrandt, etc.) and one of a handful of enterprising
dealers who created The European Fine Art Fair a quarter century
ago. A one-time airline pilot, thrice-married, who liked to race
Ferraris in the Mille Mighia, he was enormously successful and had
a major impact in European art dealing. Last year he sold his business
out to Sotheby’s for cash and stock. Shortly thereafter he
was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and several weeks ago, he died
suddenly of a heart attack at age 60.
Noortman made a vivid impression on meeting on at the large dinner
party at his baronial lodge outside Maastricht last year. Dealers
are almost always collectors also, and his house was filled with
art objects, antiquities, paintings and beautifully bound books.
He was the very picture of a sophisticated and cultured business
tycoon, tall, sleek and imposing as you might imagine a modern European
aristocrat (whether or not he was one officially, I don’t know),
exuding self-confidence, financial power and the pleasure of personal
achievement. His legacy to his community, the city of Maastricht
was transformational and lasting.
Last night at Cafe Sjiek, Robin Berben, remembered traveling with
Noortman to Mille Mighia last year, and how the man, on his cell
phone driving in his car, purchased a major painting being auctioned
at that moment at Sotheby’s in New York. Two days later, on
the same cell phone, again driving in his car, Robert Noortman sold
the painting to a grateful client, and continued on his pleasure
trip. |
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| Navigating
the winding streets of Maastricht. |
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Roman
walls still stand (and serve a purpose).
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| A
cappuccino to end the night back at the hotel bar. |
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