Later that evening, we arrange with Herman to meet at a little restaurant around the corner from our hotel. Flinckx is a very small restaurant run by a very expressive woman who teases and flirts equally well in Dutch and in English. K** and I arrived a bit before Herman and his family and this woman asked us if we happen to be meeting “Someone named Van Gessel, who wants a party for 6?” I say yes, then she turns down her mouth in a classic moue and says, “I don’t know anything about that.”
Herman and his family arrive soon after and we sit. Herman’s son, G***, sits across from me and soon devours most of the bowl of bread as well as some Chocolate Milk which A*****, Herman’s wife, informs me is his favorite. Herman’s daughter B***** sits across from K** and she is soon engaged in conversation with K***. B*** has only been studying English for a short time, but she is quite fluent and really seems to enjoy speaking with native speakers like us.
The dinner is quite good, though A***** is mad with herself because she had bought us some Strope Waffle cookies and forgotten to bring them for us. She had served them the night before when we had dinner at their house and we liked them very much.
K*** has hare, and I tried some as well. It was good, a bit denser than chicken and more rich, with a slight gamey quality. I have lamb in a rich basilica sauce. The meal is wonderful, but it is Sunday night and I am aware that they must work in the morning and the children need to get up for school. Also, it is G***’s birthday tomorrow (he will be 9) and A**** informs me that he will be up at 4 AM wanting to get started on all his presents. The woman who runs Flinckx brings G*** a special ice-cream treat with a sparkler in it, and we all sing Happy Birthday in English, which I find a little odd, especially when the other patrons join in.
We walk out into the cool night and walk a short ways to where Herman has parked his car. It is sad, but I am so glad to have reconnected with him after so many years. I am also glad that he has such a nice family. Hopefully it won’t be so long before I see him again.
Epilogue:
The next morning K*** and I are rushing around packing and readying ourselves to leave for Paris. We eat early and while K*** goes back up to the room, I head outside to hit the ATM once again. As I step outside the hotel, I hear “Hey Scott”.
Herman is riding up on his bike and he has a bag with him. I know immediately that it is the cookies that A*** forgot to bring. She is a very organized person and I know that she wouldn’t tolerate such an oversite, so she had Herman deliver them on his way to work. We say good-bye again, a bit more personally this time.
My bad day in Amsterdam, turning into a very wonderful experience in the end.
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