Varend Corso - Our Sailing Parade

As Pippin and Bloom and I headed out the front door, we waved to two of our neighbors who were chatting by their doors. "We're going to the Varend Corso," I called. "Do you want to come?" One who has lived here for years laughed. "Oh, I've seen it about thirty times." The other, who's also a recent transplant to Maassluis, said, "I'm busy tonight, so maybe another time. But what is it?" "Um, a boat parade, from what I've heard. Plants, flowers, music, boats?"

According to the website, the "Westland Flower Parade" has been an annual tradition for the last 15 or so years, and I have a soft heart for traditions. Especially brightly colored musical ones where I can take photos and feel connected to this country that has been my home for almost twelve years now.  I decided to bring the kids too, but not my husband, since massive community events are not his cup of tea. (A massive community event like a boat parade, followed by a massive community event like a sing-along, was even less attractive.) 

I hadn't been sure what time the boats would actually arrive on their three-day tour of our region so we left early from our house and had some extra playground time. The playground we chose was just a street away from the main canal at the far end of Maassluis, before the city turns into Maasland. From where we were I could look through the street and see when the boats started coming by. Others in the neighborhood had the same idea, so another family joined us at the playground. An older couple followed the sidewalk carefully and smiled at my kids; a mom came out of her back gate with a glass of white wine, checked for boats, then went back inside for a sweater. When we started hearing music, we walked back to the canal where we could watch the parade pass by, just meters away on the water. People lucky enough to live in the houses along the canal set out camping chairs and brought out snacks; a few even set up in their own boats anchored by the street. Kids dangled their feet near the water while parents kept an eye on them and chatted with neighbors. Cars trying to drive by backed up slowly when they realized there was no way they would fit into narrow streets full of festive people.

The parade started slowly, with an understated first boat checking that everything was clear and safe. But soon the canal leading to the heart of the city was host to boat after boat of dancing, singing, and waving passengers. Some just focused on steering; others did magician's tricks or acted out a song blasting from their speakers. At one point we could hear old Dutch music and shantykoor singers competing with pop music dancers, who were followed by a floating Chinese dragon and Oriental chords. My kids clapped along with the music, and when Pippin found out that some of the boat people would wave to him, he started waving excitedly to each one. Bloom didn't really know what was going on, but she was content to just watch from her stroller and be fed raisins. It had rained earlier, but this evening was windy and nearly warm with bursts of clouds of sunshine. With one hand on the buggy, and often a foot on the brake, I snapped photo after photo of the gabled houses, multicolored barges, and hundreds of spectators who, like us, were out enjoying this oh-so-Dutch event. 

At one point we stood by the open bridge and watched an Italian carnival barge and one with salsa dancers come by, and Pippin asked if we could move on to the singers. "I think I see a few more boats coming," I told him, "and maybe after those?" A woman next to us, holding a program for the event, turned and smiled at us. "There are supposed to be fifty boats. I heard him asking, and just thought you might want to know." "Thank you! Well then, sweetie, I think we'll watch the next few and then go see if the sing-along has started." Our local newspaper had promised a 'MeeZingSpektakel' - a 'Singalong Spectacle' with sailor choirs, and I had mentioned it to Pippin. I'm not sure what he expected, but he loves festivals and events almost as much as I do and was excited about it.

By then it was nearly eight pm, past both kids' bedtime, and Bloom was starting to get cranky. So we pulled out more snacks (always take snacks!) and some water, and walked to the parking lot where market is usually held on Fridays. There we saw a big stage set up for the singalong. One choir we had already seen singing in their boat as they arrived, rumbling in their deep voices to the accompaniment of an accordion. But since the website had said that the first choir wouldn't actually perform on-stage til nearly nine pm, we just stayed for the first song of the warm-up hour. I wasn't familiar with it, but the audience - mostly senior citizens - were clapping and singing along. "He's singing so loudly!" commented Pippin as a vocalist enthusiastically led the group.  "Part of it's just the microphones, but yes, he can sing loudly," I agreed. As we slowly walked away, the rollicking music followed us down the street and all the way home to our neighborhood.