-=> Ward Dossche wrote to Shaun Buzza <=-

 WD> I'm a Dutch speaking citizen of a tri-lingual country and I take pride
 WD> in knowing the language of the other side well enough so that when we
 WD> meet in the middle a decent conversation can be had.

When I was six years old (in the mid 70s), my family and I were living in
the tiny German town of Buren in Westphalia, Germany, near a NATO post.  It
was decided that I had to have my tonsils, adenoids, and some polyps in my
nasal canal removed.

I was sent to a Flemish-speaking hospital where they did excellent work on
me but they had to send me home early as I refused to eat because I was very
homesick.  My mother tells me that the Flemish staff went out of their way
to secure American brand food for me, such as Jell-O and Campbell's Bean and
Bacon Soup but I refused to eat.

I do not have a lot of memories about that time but I do remember their
speaking Flemish and I tried to understand the best I could.

On a side note, I did later visit the Netherlands and some of my favorite
memories of that time were walking on a dyke, visiting working windmills,
and visiting Keukenhof.  I would like to visit Keukenhof again someday.

(If you don't know what Keukenhof is: https://keukenhof.nl/en/)

If I remember right, since you speak Dutch, you're from the northern part.

-- Sean

... "We do not remember days, we remember moments." - Cesare Pavese
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