Rex Tentatively Approaching the Upmarket Dentistry
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The place was deserted, so I marched off to find a harbour master. Spotting a lock near the far end of the marina, with a control tower above it, I made a bee line for it. My progress was halted when I reached a gate operated by a numeric keypad lock. Curses! Fortunately I did not have to curse long, a lady came cycling along, and she told me the access code. The woman also pointed out the toilet and shower block in a none too obvious location, and then informed me that the harbour master would do his rounds between 17:30 - 18:30. I thanked the lady and returned to give Rex the news.
"Ijsvlet" by the Urk Artist Piet Brouwer
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With time to kill until the harbour master turned up, we could attend to urgent business. One of Rex's wisdom teeth, or rather the gum around it, had an infection, and he was suffering badly. Indeed he had not slept well because of the pain. Whilst in Hindeloopen, we had identified a dentist in Urk via the internet, and a notice board in the Urk marina gave the name and address of the same dentist. After checking with a friendly local chap at the marina the rough location of the dentist near the old harbour, we took a hike, and homed in on it via multiple checks with locals, not an easy task but the locals went out of their way to help us. We reached the door ....... the business was shut, the dentist was on holiday. That discovery was as painful as Rex's infection. By pure chance the friendly, local chap who had provided us with the first set of directions at the marina turned up whilst we stared at the closed sign. He translated a note in the window for us, which suggested an alternative dentist in a nearby town. The words deja vu and Kortgene sprung to mind.
Very Tall Crane
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We spent a while walking in circles trying to find a chemists, and through a tortuous process, we located an area in a residential part of town where, we were informed, we could find one. By this time I was regularly resorting to consulting locals, and as we passed a house with its front garden occupied by a bloke sitting in a deck chair, I asked him, "Alstublieft, spreekt u Engels?" "Een beetje," piped up his wife who was lying on the garden wall (crikey, how did she manage that?). She explained exactly where the chemist was located in decent English - the kindness of strangers.
Elegant Tall Ship
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We found the chemist, and an elderly lady attended to Rex. She spoke excellent English, enabling Rex to explain that he would really like to see a dentist. The woman asked a younger assistant who knew of one, and soon we were on another route march through a residential district, arriving at the end of a cul-de-sac at which a large, elegant but functional building stood, the dentist's. This certainly seemed to be a very much upmarket affair, indeed all the glossy display boards inside the entrance indicated this dentistry was more concerned with the cosmetic aspects of the discipline rather than the run-of-the-mill "it's broken, fix it" type that Rex required.
Comfortable Garden Chairs
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"Spreekt u Engels?" I asked the middle-aged women in the reception, whose face looked as though it had just been slapped with a kipper. "Nee," was the curt reply. In the elementary Dutch I could muster (Rex, who speaks the language fluently, likes to watch me flounder at times), I explained the situation. I understood that nothing could be done immediately. "Wanneer?" was my obvious question. "Vrijdag," was the reply, not the answer I expected. Friday was two days away, not an option I thought.
Lighthouse
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She wrote down the phone number of the alternative dentist, the same alternative dentist that was referred to at the closed dentist's by the old harbour. "Hoe komen we daar?" I enquired. She gave me an answer that was totally lost on me. A young chap sitting on a nearby couch interjected, informing us it was in a town 12km away. "Are there any taxis around here?" I asked him. "You need to book a taxi over the internet," was his response. The gods were conspiring against us.
We could not get on the internet until the harbour master turned up, by which time the dentist would be shut. We thanked the receptionist and young lad, and left, calling at the chemists we had visited for painkillers. "Do you already take medication?" asked the elderly lady. "Yes, statins," replied Rex, "for cholesterol." This was lost on the woman, but she sold Rex some Ibuprofen.
Nets Drying Out in the Evening
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On our way back to town we spotted the couple who had directed us to the chemists, still in their front garden about 60m away, and gave them a wave. The chap immediately sprung up and beckoned us over. Not sure what he wanted, we strolled across. The fellow enquired as to what Rex had obtained from the chemist, and Rex duly showed him his 400mg/sachet Ibuprofen. The man examined them, then issued instructions to his wife who dashed indoors, only to reappear on the scene with a handful of sachets, all 600mg/sachet Ibuprofen. "My dentist gave me these," she said, thrusting the sachets into Rex's hands. Rex felt guilty, he did not want to deprive the lady of her medication, but the couple were most insistent. She then explained how to administer the medication effectively around the gum. Rex expressed his sincere gratitude, offering to pay for the medication, but the couple were most adamant, they did not want anything in return. After many thank yous and farewells, we left the couple, who carried on waving until we were out of sight.
We returned to
Duonita, where Rex administered a dissolved sachet around his throbbing gum, and watched the busy harbour activity while awaiting the harbour master. Large barges arrived, umpteen gas field support vessels ferried crew back and forth to the rigs, small kids hurtled around the harbour in equally small powered boats, and several yachts arrived into the marina. One old chap was even swimming up the marina and out into the harbour. Both Rex and I loved to see an active harbour/canal scene, and this harbour was certainly non-stop action.
We found probably the best restaurant we have come across in Holland by the harbour front, "De Boet". The chef certainly was an expert at his trade, and the food was exquisite. Similar to a Mediterranean Sea front, folk idly ambled up and down the harbour side, others cycled past, and the lazy just drove by in cars. The waitress who served us took the time to carefully explain every dish to us, and also helped us brush up our Dutch. What a pleasant way to end a day, memorable for its fine sailing and dentist hunting.
