Some of the folks out here decided to host a harvest lunch to celebrate the bounty the summer yields. They invited the whole community to the event. Sal went. I didn’t.
There is no question – I am enjoying my own company more and more and it is not because I am getting more interesting. It’s not me. It’s them. I simply don’t ‘get’ large social gatherings. Never did. Not likely to change. I prefer one on one.
Don’t get me wrong; I love people. I really do. Especially the ones I don’t know. And I still like pretty women (though, I forget why). But I prefer a few rather than a bunch. Eight people is about it for me. Sal and I and four others is perfect. Sal and I and three women plus one guy is even better. I talk to the guy. I flirt with the women. But, with that mix, I can do all that and not get distracted. It’s an ‘old guy’ thing.
But this is not about me – it’s about the Dutch.
For some odd reason the mail plane has been bringing in a lot of Dutch tourists lately. Last week they had so many they needed two planes! There were almost ten of them! And this for an island that has only fifty residents and few, except the postmistress, are ever there to greet them. What is the draw?
We get tourists, of course. 95% by plane. The odd boater. Usually only in the summer and usually one or two at a time. And they have been an eclectic selection. We’ve had ‘Mericans, ‘Strailians and the ever-present Germans. Germans love the forest.
And the forest loves Germans as much, if not more. Well, the bears do, anyway. 90% of all tourists eaten by bears are Germans who arrive by bus. It’s a fact.
But this summer, it has been the Dutch in droves. And the pilot often takes the tourists on a little jaunt up the hill to see the quaint, rustic buildings and the little two-room school. It is all part of the ‘package’.
This time they came while the first Harvest Lunch was being held. About ten Dutch tourists wandered into the old rustic bunkhouse and looked at the 50 or so ‘islanders’ eat lunch and mill about to live music (a saxophonist and a singer – odd combination but somehow fitting the occasion).
Of course, the Dutch were welcomed and they, too, milled about until the pilot had to get them back on schedule. So, off they strooped slowly (Dutch joke) and the island returned to normal….whatever the hell ‘normal’ is.
As my neighbour, J, often says about life out here: “You can’t make this stuff up!” And, it is THAT kinda ‘stuff’ I would have gone for. Sorry I missed it.