36 Hours in Maastricht

Saturday, 9:30 a.m. 10:30 a.m.: Introducing Maastricht

Arrive an hour late to Maastricht, the southernmost city in the Netherlands, thanks to track works that required a detour through Utrecht. Located in an isthmus of Dutch land that stretches narrowly between Germany and Belgium (like Maryland west of Cumberland), Maastricht is almost more Bavarian than Dutch, more cobblestone streets than cute canals. And most un-Dutch-like of all, it has hills. The central city, however, is flat, and your walk from the station over the St. Servaas bridge and into the heart of the old city is brief, if wet.

11:30 a.m.: St. Pietersberg Caves

The tourist activity in Maastricht is to visit the caves of St. Pietersberg, where stone marl has been mined since Roman times and more than 100 miles of tunnels stretch all the way to Belgium. The most "fun" way to reach the caves would be by boat, but in January little is discernible out of the rain-streaked and steamed-up windows. And after a 20-minute boat ride and a hike up St. Pietersberg hill, you find you have to wait for another 30 minutes in the cold drizzle for the tour to begin. You curse the marketing person who decided this gap in timing would force people to buy overpriced drinks and snacks at the adjacent cafe.

Close to 1, the friendly tour guide shows up with kerosene lanterns he hands out to the men in the group most likely to have been scouts as children. You follow him through muddy fields until he descends into a rocky crevice where there is a padlocked iron grill over a cave entrance. You huddle with the others in the dark tunnel as he padlocks the gate behind you, and as you follow him down into a labyrinth of dark and dank tunnels, your mind starts racing through horror movie plots: the satanic tour guide leads naive tourists to human sacrificial rites like lambs to the slaughter; a sudden rock slide maims the leader and leads to a cross between Alive and Lord of the Flies, culminating in blood-streaked walls and savage sacrifices; the community of rabid bat creatures that has evolved in the bowels of the caves slowly picks the tour group off one by one, turning their victims into blood sucking zombies. You are not amused when the tour guide pauses to show you a sleeping bat above your head.

But the reality of a Dutch-only tour full of eager academic types quickly stifles your cinematographic inspirations. You shift uncomfortably from foot to foot as the rest of the tour group discusses the intricacies of sawing the soft marl into blocks in olden times. As the all-Dutch discussion stretches past 15 minutes, you try to imagine what a first-rate travel writer would be noting for a future article. You decide a first-rate travel writer would not have gone on a Dutch-only tour. Your shifting increases as you try to keep the feeling in your toes.

Eventually the tour guide moves on, pausing periodically to provide more arcane details to his highly appreciative Dutch audience. You pass rows of long dark tunnels and cavernous side rooms; your attention is drawn to intricate charcoal drawings on the walls, from the fantastical to a full series of the stations of the cross leading up to a little chapel, complete with altar (perfect, you think, for dark satanic rites). You understand vaguely that locals sheltered in the caves during WWII and try to imagine entire communities bedded down in the darkness. You curse your travelling in the off-season for its lack of English-language tours. Finally you re-emerge above ground to find that it is still raining.

3:00 p.m.: Back in the Center

Back in the center city, you admire the spacious Markt square and picture how the many cafes must spill out over the plaza during the summer. You attempt to quash your envy of such summertime frivolity by standing in line at Reitz, an old-school "friterie", for some thrice-fried french fries.

From the Markt, wander the narrow pedestrianized streets of the shopping district until you stumble upon the Selexyz bookstore in an old Domincan church. Marvel at the ability to shop for books while walking over crypts and grave stones. Climb the black iron risers housing bookshelves above the nave floor to take pictures of unsuspecting customers in the coffee shop where the alter used to be.

3:50 p.m.: Sight-Seeing?

Take more pictures of the giant empty space of the Vrijthof and admire the medieval stone churches that border it, in particular the lovely red tower of St Janskerk. Attempt to go climb the red tower only to realize the tower closed at 4:00 for the rest of the weekend. Stomp foot like impetuous child.

Find entrance to the grand complex of St. Servaasbasiliek next door, only to realize there's an admission fee of 4 euros and it closes in fifteen minutes. Consider pretending like you had visited both churches, even though you didn't, because it would make a better story. Realize you will never be a travel writer. Console yourself by finding the statute of St. Servaas with a model of the basilica tucked under his arm. Sigh deeply as the rain picks up again and you realize you left your umbrella on the boat.

4:30 p.m.: Wandering with Vlaai

The bisschopsmolen, in a narrow street down by the old city walls, has been a working mill since the 1200s. The current owners of the attached bakery have wisely left the mill chase and inner workings of the mill open to the public. Once you have paused to entertain your inner child (even though you are pretty sure no flour is actually being ground), the only option is to stop in for a koffie verkeerd and a slice of apple-apricot vlaai, the Limburgian fruit tart specialty.

Once warm(er), wander more of Maastricht's narrow cobblestone streets, pausing to admire the imposing Onze Lieve Vrouwebasiliek (Basilica of Our Dear Lady), the oldest building in town, which means it looks like it's straight out of the dark ages (because it is). Cross the pedestrian bridge of De Hoeg Brogk, spanned by an elegant white arch, and stop to take photographs of what you are sure would be very picturesque views of both banks of the city, if it weren't raining and prematurely dark.

The bridge leads to Plein 1992, built to commemorate the signing of the Maastricht Treaty that turned the European Community into the European Union and created the Euro. Find the tile of the Euro sign in the middle of the plaza and contemplate the future of the Europeans' grand federalizing experiment. From the Plein, wander charming side streets until you find a comfortable Dutch pub for dinner.

8:00 p.m.: Date Night

After dinner (the Dutch eat early), head to Zondag, a hip cafe-bar on this east side of the river. As you sip cheap glasses of wine to the beat of American jazz classics, you find the candlelight and ambiance is making your companion very handsome. The manchego cheese plate comes with crusty French bread, a pot of honey, and the most beautiful pile of watercress you have ever seen. You are in heaven.

Sunday, 8:30 a.m.: The Walls of Maastricht

As soon as it is (barely) light, you are back out in the chill mist to tour the city's fortifications. Having spent 2 euros the day before on a walking guide at the tourist information center, you are determined to walk every rampart and tower remaining in the city.

Find the Helport, "the oldest city gate in the Netherlands" (largely reconstructed in the early 1900s). Try to imagine how the decomposting leaves and wind-swept vines must be transformed into lovely gardens along the ramparts come spring-time. Observe the ornate statue of D'Artagnan of The Three Musketeers fame, who died fighting to capture Maastricht for the French in 1673, and marvel at the fact that he was more than a figment of Alexandre Dumas's imagination. Also marvel at the fact that Maastrict-ites celebrate a man who laid siege to their town just because some Frenchie wrote a book about him. Decide not to say anything in your blog post about the rather disturbing art installation of a naked woman draping herself over a dead giraffe, the remnants of her wedding dress hanging from a drying rack nearby.

10:30 a.m.: Koffie Break

When the rain picks up again, duck into De Tribunal, a very Dutch cafe-pub full of old men playing cards while their wives are at church. Warm up with a big cup of koffie verkeerd at one of the rough wood tables and watch the local patrons languidly flip through the newspaper.

11:30 a.m.: Art, Mostly Modern

Walk all the way over to the south end of the opposite side of town to visit Maastricht's main art museum: the Bonnefantenmuseum. Try to decipher the many maps and brochures handed out by the front desk, which guide you through a maze of rooms where medieval art is mixed with modern art and no paintings are labeled. You think this is an interesting concept, but find it mostly confusing.

You drown your artistic confusion over another cup of coffee in the museum's Cafe Ipanema, run by the same people who own Zondag. You decide to have another slice of vlaai for good measure (cherry this time), and conclude that vlaai is just very good pie.

1:30 p.m.: When Vlaai Isn't Enough...

It is still raining. Although you have only spent 27 hours in Maastricht, you decide that artistic license can account for the remaining nine. As the train pulls away from the station, you consider the fact that if it were summer, you'd be sitting in a cafe on the Markt, drinking a Jupiler in the sunshine.

(Full photo credit for this post goes to Jeff, of course. Thanks, Jeff.)