La
Licorne
AFTER
THAT
That summer with friends we continued our holiday making one-day-trips on the cycle all over the countryside around Maastricht. In the rolling topography of southern Limburg one has to work for it, and there is the risk of a flat tire. But in the company of others there was always a way out. We knew how to ride a cycle with one hand, taking the bad cycle by the other and carrying a friend on the back seat. So when a reverend brother on leave from the mission appeared on the scene, he found a club of tough boys able to help themselves. Having nothing else on hand this Brother Prosper was very happy to join us on our trips through marvelous Limburg with its stately castles and farmsteads *). You saw him enjoying all of it, but when our vacation was over so was his, and he returned to Pakistan. At that time I didn't know that I would be frequenting that country in a later stage.
*) South Limbourg is regarded as the Burgundy of the
Netherlands. Recommendable restaurants are listed elsewhere
on this site.
~~~~~~~~~~~
In 1952 the
Catholic Party in Maastricht received its first severe blow in the municipal
elections. That made the party look for a new personage to lead the recovery,
and they came up with my Dad who was already active in catholic, social and
intellectual organizations. Now he was elected chairman of the local party
circle. With that he came out of the shade of his little known activities and
became a public figure. His wife and children were very proud of him and shared
in his fame. Besides, it brought us some business in kind of office work,
delivering letters etc..
It was one of
those old fashioned winters with a long frosty period. A few blocks away from
our house there lived this girl, a lovely Maastricht blond, hair in tail. Irčne
was her name. We had occasionally met, and there she was again, drawing figures
on the ice-rink. And there was I, shuffling on my Dad's skates. It was obvious
which one of us was the artist on the floor, but she didn’t care and from the
first day we were inseparable. Everyday as long as it lasted, we went to skate.
When I phoned, invariably she would answer as if the mobile phone had already
been invented. The ice-rink was located at the other end of town, so it took us
some time to get there, whether by bus, bicycle or on foot. Then we drew our
rounds, drank hot chocolate milk and went back home. In front of the door of
her parents house I gave her a kiss, at first so quickly that she hadn't the
chance to answer it.
It was around the same time that I started making up my mind about a future after secondary school, but how does one go about that? From the lifestyle of my eldest brother I had figured that going to university was the most attractive option. The choice of faculty was tougher a question to answer in absence of a clear voice inside myself. For one thing: the study had to be easy but prestigious. Of course it should match my abilities in physical science. A most important thing to consider was the title attached to it. The academies had adopted a confusing and arbitrary differentiation. One could go for Drs, Ir and Mr. The first didn't attract me because it stood for 'doctorandus', meaning 'going for doctor' (PhD), the latter being reserved for happy few only. The Mr title was allocated or lawyers, and hence required knowledge of Latin. So there remained the Ir-title standing for 'ingénieur' (the ingenious one) which -mark well- had nothing to do with an engine as the English 'engineer' suggests. That sounded good, but alas, the study was known to be very demanding. While I found myself in this impasse one day I ran across an article about the agricultural university in Wageningen. That opened for me the avenue of a study with plenty variation in a pleasant environment and giving the right title on top of that. So, that settled it.
Came summer we were among the
some hundreds of boys and girls graduating from secondary schools in
Maastricht. This seemed to offer the perfect occasion to make it steady with my
gal. Clearly among friends the same idea had surfaced, because all of a sudden
one could see lots of guys and skirts of our age clinging to one another. A
busy time of fondling and dancing followed, and as if this was not enough,
Marcel and I organized a ball in the concert hall, the first to be held for all
graduates and teachers of the secondary schools in Maastricht. Charging ten
guilders per pupil we were able to hire live music and give everybody a few
drinks. Even then money was left when we made up the bill next day. To clear
this up, word was passed that money was going to be returned at the dancing-den
in the town park. Everybody was so pleased with the petty money we returned
that they felt like treating us. So the ball revolved all summer.
When September came most of us became busy starting a new life. Some were going to join the military service, others would take up a job and the remainder flocked out to continue study.