Discovering Den Bosch

When it comes to place names in the Netherlands, things aren't always what they seem. Amsterdam for instance is actually pronounced 'Omsterdom'. Den Haag (The Hague), is officially known as 's-Gravenhage (The Count's Hedge). Den Bosch is officially called 's-Hertogenbosch (The Duke's Forest), but for three days of Carnival it changes again so the city becomes known as 'Oeteldonk' (Frog Hill). But whatever it's called, that's where I went on Sunday.

Last Sunday I remarked that I intended to make Sunday a travelling day, and so after crawling out of bed at much too late an hour I boarded a train to Den Bosch, half-an-hour away in the south of the country. Many people had told me that it was a lovely place, and it supposedly has the finest Gothic churches in the Netherlands, so having missed out on the change to go during the carnival, it sounded like a good destination. And indeed it was, but not for the reasons I was expecting.

I'm used to writing on here about how nice Dutch cities are etc, but I'm not going to say that with Den Bosch. I didn't think it was actually that nice a place. Sure, the weather was miserable, but it didn't have that usual 'feeling' that accompanies most of the places that I've been to which had made them all lovely to walk around while all feeling quite the same. Instead, it was the people that made Den Bosch for me. On leaving the train station I passed a lovely scene of community that was repeated throughout the city:


I got there at lunch time and found a little cafe inside on old church where the waiters were so polite, friendly and curious as to where I was from, that it really made for a nice lunch. Afterwards I went for a wonder around the city, and wasn't really that impressed with doing so as everything felt a little soulless and empty, even the central Markt was dull and rather dispiriting despite the vintage car show being held there. So I headed over to the Cathedral to see what all the fuss was about. Well I can tell you that it's justified.




It's an oddly beautiful cathedral, all the more so being attached to a comparatively small city. I paid to take a tour up the tower, and it has to be the best €3.50 I've spent since I got here. The tour guide was so enthusiastic that it took us one-and-a-half-hours to do the tour, while people who started after us had left long before we did. He told us everything about the cathedral's construction and renovations, about the city itself, about other buildings in the city, what to see while we were there. The guy's passion for the place and for his job just shone through and I left feeling thoroughly contented with it all. Even the people from Den Bosch on the tour gave out the same spirit of interest.

Den Bosch itself is a fortress city and as such remained quite small until not that long ago when it started to expand, but following protests from the population, the expansion was halted in one direction, meaning that the city is surrounded by suburbs on only three sides, with the other side of the city centre stopping abruptly when it reaches the flood plain.


Building on flood plains is never a good idea, not least in Holland, but here, the sudden boundary line lends a peculiar feeling to an already peculiar city. Suffice to say I liked Den Bosch, but for more substantial reasons than the cosmetic ones that usually pepper these blog entries, even if I was being watched.


Den Bosch, a city with substance then.