A Rain Too Much

“Well, as you know, I always felt we tried to go a bridge too far.” - Lt. General Frederick “Boy” Browning.

June 2nd, 2019

Actually, I don’t know any German of my generation who hasn’t seen “A Bridge Too Far” yet. Personally, I can’t remember the film at all. However, I am fully aware of the historical significance of this bridge and, of course, I learned about the `Operation Market Garden´ at school. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that my first trip abroad took me to this location.

It was a warm summer day when I made my first attempt to go to Arnhem in The Netherlands. Everything went according to plan up to Wesel, but the train got stranded there. Just sparse information reached the passengers, some of which were barely spoken and revoked immediately. It didn't take long for us to realize that our train had been cancelled, and we would have to wait for the next one. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find out when or if the next train to Arnhem would depart in Düsseldorf.

Due to this uncertainty, I decided to take the next train back home. I spent most of the day on various trains and hardly had the chance to take any photos. However, I learned a values lesson from it. In all my future trips around the country, I planned alternative locations so that I never had to spend another unproductive day on trains.

Even though this first attempt failed, I continued to focus on this visit and returned to the planning board meanwhile. So far, I had focused on the John Frost Bridge and the Airborne Museum, but I expanded this excursion to include the Park Musis and Park Sonsbeek, recognizing them as excellent spots for capturing stunning photographs. And in contrast to the first failed trip, this time I memorized all the streets I had to take, so that I had not to rely on the internet necessarily.

June 17th, 2019

Another promising day and this time, I reached Arnhem without any problems. The weather was pleasantly warm, but a bit windy and, of course, there was some rain in the air, which I hoped would give me a day off and wouldn’t interfere with my plans. From the station Arnhem Centraal, I went straight to the Nederrijn and followed its banks.

From a distance, I spotted the bridge, though I hesitated to believe it was the one: it lacked the charm and antiquity I expected. Along the Rhine and Ruhr, I had seen far more picturesque bridges. Despite my uncertainty, I walked on towards it, consulting Google Maps for guidance, which only reinforced my suspicion that it was indeed the famous John Frost Bridge. Later, I would jest that the Dutch must secretly hold a grudge against us Germans for not demolishing this eyesore.

Despite its unassuming appearance, the bridge leads to a remarkable monument. A welcoming promenade stretching from the bridge to the museum encourages visitors to linger and reflect. Here, I quickly engaged with both locals and tourists, and surprisingly, German prevailed as the predominant language. I sought out a place to sit, ensuring a clear view of the bridge, and then I promptly searched for it online, half-expecting to find that the original one had been replaced by an unattractive new structure in recent years. However, this never happened. I looked at the iconic John Frost Bridge our grandfather fought about.

Was I disappointed? - Absolutely. I had secretly hoped for something more impressive from both the location and the bridge. Yet, despite my expectations, standing where our grandfathers once fought was a great experience, irrespective of which side they were on in the war. After observing the activities around and atop the bridge for half an hour, I continued my journey. Upon returning to the road, I paused briefly in front of the museum, yet, to my regret, I could not muster the courage to step inside.

I wandered along the street, crossed the market square, passed the Gerechtshof, the Stadhuis and the Parochie St. Walburgis to the Airborne Monument. At home, I had noted this monument as a landmark leasing to Park Musis, without an actual intention of exploring it further. A misjudgment. However, when presented with the option of visiting the park or the monument, I opted for a brief detour and I was pleasantly surprised by what I discovered.

The monument sits at the heart of an intersection, nestled below it within a circular funnel, accessible from all four directions, ensuring safe passage for pedestrians and cyclists alike. Taking a seat on a nearby bench, I enjoyed a clear view of the stone block, observing the vibrant activity within this unique space. It exemplified the essence of a bicycle-friendly city, offering a model for Germany and the rest of the world. It promotes health, benefits the environment, and surprisingly creates a serene haven amidst the bustling intersection. As I watched, individuals of all ages, from young people on mopeds to adults on bicycles and older individuals with wheelchairs and caregivers, passed by, showcasing the inclusivity of this design.

Although my initial intention was simply to take a brief pause for a drink, I found myself captivated by the scene, spending nearly half an hour observing the people and soaking in the atmosphere around the monument. If it weren't for the two parks awaiting exploration and the nearly three-hour drive back home, I would have undoubtedly chosen to linger there for the remaining day.

With a heavy heart, yet also an excitement for what lay ahead of me, I resumed my journey, passed by Parochie St. Walburgis and entered the park behind it.

I could not find much to praise about Park Musis itself; less because it was terrible, but simply because it appeared to be an ordinary park, lacking any standout features. Again, I had expected something more remarkable. However, despite my initial reservations, I have to admit that my time in it proved to be unexpectedly intriguing.

I followed the path along the lake’s edge on the right side, staying as close as possible to the water. While I strolled along, I noticed ducks with her adorable ducklings. I quickly reached for my camera, prepared to capture this moment. However, as soon as I crouched down, the curious ducklings began scampering towards me, coming within just a yard’s distance, so that my telephoto lens became useless. I had no choice but to stand up again, making a few steps back to repositioning me. However, this seemed to encourage the ducklings to follow me. Fortunately, the ducks intervened, calling their offspring away from me, what allowed me to take a few wonderful shots.

After a few minutes, I got startled by loud squawking. With my attention fixed on the ducklings, I failed to notice the duck nestled right beside the opposite side if the path. Although I was less than an arm-length away from it, it remained unperturbed, steadfastly holding its ground. Intrigued, I decided to capture it using my iPhone, instead of exchanging the lense of my camera. As soon as I began taking photos, the duck ceased its squawking and drifted away, unfazed by my presence.

For the second time this day, I encountered a remarkable display of trust, a reminiscent of the encounters I’ve had with the wildlife in Mauritius. Needless to say, I enjoyed it wholeheartedly.

With those photos captured, I headed towards Park Sonsbeek, intending to have a lunch break in the city center of Arnhem.

Upon arrival, a bustling scene greeted me, since nearly all the shops were open and it seemed to me like the entire population of Arnhem was strolling through the pedestrian zone. Despite the lively atmosphere, my quest for lunch failed completely; the first and only chip shop I found had been closed. Google Maps revealed that a Burger King was not far away from me, yet I struggled to find my way amidst the bustling streets.

Feeling slightly disoriented, I wandered through the city center, simultaneously appreciating and lamenting the bustling crowd. Despite the abundance of excellent photo spots, the dense amount of people made it nearly impossible to capture them. At that moment, I yearned for a brief but intense rain shower to get the people out of the city center. However, the weather remained unchanged, just the breeze increased a bit. Unable to locate another dining spot, I skipped my lunch and head straight to Park Sonsbeek.

From a distance, I could already see the rural design and was really looking forward to discover the tremendous park landscape. And I learned another value lesson: Be careful what you wish for, it might come true.

As I approached the entrance of Park Sonsbeek, the first raindrops hit me. I snapped a few photos before the clouds unleashed a deluge. Within seconds, a torrential rainfall covered the Dutch landscape. Alongside a father and his two sons, I huddled beneath a tree, seeking refuge. However, as the rain intensified, our shelter became increasingly inadequate. The father swiftly abandoned the spot, leading his sons down the path to seek refuge at the entrance to a nearby restaurant. The staff welcomed them, a gesture that surprised and delighted me. I thought about abandoning the tree, too, yet I decided against it, recognizing the potential risk to my cameras. Thus, I stayed beneath the tree, using my t-shirt and waterproofed vast to shield my camera bag as best as I could.

While I stood there, waiting out the downpour, I scolded me, for not bringing the rain-protection for the bag. Another thing that changed after this trip. I always have rain protection in my bag.

With every minute that passed by, the rain continued to pour relentlessly, amplifying my aapprehension about the safety of my equipment. I could not help but feel a deep frustration at the sudden change in weather disrupting my plans.

I successfully shielded my gear from the rain; something I could not say about myself. Soaked and feeling a chill, I impatiently waited for the relentless rain to slow down.

The moment the rain subsided, I relocated from beneath the tree, opting for the next one, towards the train station. In my sodden state, continuing this photo tour seemed too risky. Well, cancelling Park Sonsbek and exploring it another day was the best I could do in this situation.

As soon as the rain permitted, I crossed the street and took another one that would bring me back to the station, using Google Maps as a guide. I sprinted from tree to tree, always taking care to protect my camera bag, until I reached the station, despite feeling freezing cold.

Even with the minor disappointments and the torrential rain, I fell in love with Arnhem, and I was already looking forward to the next trip there.

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Thank you for reading!