Dutch Me Deadly

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In memory of Alice “Dunc” Martin, who honored us with her friendship, dazzled us with her dinner parties, and spoiled us

with her kindness. We miss you so much.

—mmh

One

Holland in springtime is a feast for the eyes. Just look at the travel brochures that promise sweeps of tulips radiating toward picturesque windmills. Fields of tulips bordering narrow canals. Crates of tulips glutting flower markets. Gardens of tulips brightening parks. Vases of tulips adorning hotel lobbies.

Holland in springtime offers tourists the most spectacular display of color on the planet.

Unfortunately, we were visiting in late autumn and were missing the spectacle, but with the economy in freefall, investment income dwindling, and our town needing to be rebuilt after being leveled by an F4 category tornado, we considered ourselves lucky to be here at all. So even if we weren’t booked into five-star hotels, had no plans to dine at five-star restaurants, and could stay only eight days instead of fourteen, we were still excited about exploring Holland. Iowans are a practical lot and understand the meaning of “shoestring budget,” which meant I didn’t have to worry about anyone in the group having false expectations.

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