The Brothers of Robert Ormsby

Robert's Brothers George and Arthur

By David Bell

George Owen Ormsby 1814 ~ 1861

Whilst Robert, our New Zealand Ormsby ancestor, is familiar to us, not many know he had two remarkable brothers; George Owen and Arthur Sydney. In fact, it is quite possibly because of his older brother George that Robert came to these shores. Let's discuss George first then look at Arthur Sydney.

George Owen Ormsby was born to Reverend Owen Ormsby (1782-1834) and Ann Phibbs (1800-1852) of County Louth, Ireland. Some New Zealand records give his father the title of Bishop, but this appears to be an error. There is no official record of him being a Bishop, rather, he was known as Reverend Owen Ormsby, Rector of Balymascanlon, County Louth. In the later obituary of his youngest son, Arthur, he is also referred to as Reverend Owen Ormsby, this time of Kilmore and Grange, County Roscommon.

George Owen had five siblings: Anne, Harry, Isabel, Robert and Arthur. 

George trained as a surveyor and as a young man left Ireland on board HMS Buffalo as an assistant surveyor to one Colonel Light, the Surveyor-General bound for South Australia with the commission to survey land for a settlement town which is today's Adelaide.

Colonel Light, George, and two or three other assistants set to work and surveyed a site carefully chosen by Colonel Light on account of its nearby mountains which he reasoned would encourage greater chances of rainfall than some of the other sites that were recommended. It also had a substantial river (the Torrens) running through it. He was not without his detractors but he persevered with his choice and set George and the other assistants to work.

George might possibly have set roots in Adelaide if not for a dispute between Colonel Light and his superiors back in the Old Country on account of the bosses deciding to implement some new surveying methods. What these methods involved I can't say but they were so unpopular with the Colonel and his crew that Light resigned his post as Surveyor-General. George, in turn, refused to work under Colonel Light's replacement and also resigned. With the whole project thrown into array the replacement Surveyor-General was compelled to resign and the new methods were dropped. George was asked to take charge until the arrival of  Charles Sturt, the new Surveyor-General. One month later George resigned a second time and in May, 1839, went back to Ireland.

Nevertheless, George left his mark in South Australia. In the South Australian Gazette he was complemented as: an active and efficient officer, one of the best, if not the very best, on the staff of Colonel Light. In addition, one of the rivulets that feed into the Torrens bears his name, presumably compliments of Colonel Light as George did much of his surveying in that area.

 About 1842-43 George Left Ireland for Auckland New Zealand where he married Selina Hepenstal in 1843. In Auckland he did contract work surveying Crown land and a big job with the Church Mission Society in relation to its claims before the Land Claims Commission. The land he surveyed later became today's Tauranga. He also held the government post of Marine Supervisor at 200 pounds a year and surveyed and charted the Manukau Harbor. He was later promoted to Assistant Surveyor-General at 300 pounds a year. Other appointments included Commissioner of both the Provincial Wastelands and the Board of Works. he was also appointed the Provincial Road Surveyor. I don't know what these fine-sounding responsibilities involved, but it certainly demonstrates his surveying skills and community spirit.

In 1944, soon after arriving in Auckland, George took advantage of the Government's relaxing of the monopoly it held on purchasing Maori land and obtained some of his own. Up until then only the Crown was allowed to purchase land from the Maoris, a situation that became increasingly annoying to the immigrants and settlers. By 1844 the pressure on the government had become strong enough to force Governor Robert Fitzroy to pass two land acts relinquishing its stranglehold.  The following is the document deeding George the land he purchased.

MAORI DEEDS OF OLD PRIVATE LAND PURCHASES IN NEW ZEALAND, FROM THE YEAR 1815 TO 1840, WITH PRE-EMPTIVE AND OTHER CLAIMS

DEEDS—NO. 98

Deeds—No. 98.

Te Onepi Block, Onehunga, Manukau District.

1844. 26 September.Manukau District.TE ONEPI. Know all men by these presents, that we the undersigned agree to make over, barter, alienate and sell to George Owen Ormsby, his executors and assigns for ever that spot of land G. O. Ormsby.named Onehunga situated on the North side of the Manukau River. 

We also PAGE 503 agree that all tapued places, Woods, Water, Minerals, Mines, &c. &c., shall be at the disposal of the said George Owen Ormsby his heirs, executors and assigns, now, henceforth, and for ever. 

The said land Onehunga is bounded as follows. On the North by Boundaries. [20 acres.]Crown land, on the East by land belonging to Forbes and the road from Epsom to Manukau, on the South the Manukau River, and on the West by land lately purchased by Mr. Beveridge from the undersigned. We agree to accept the undermentioned Articles as payment for the said land Onehunga, namely Two double-barreled Guns, Two Pounds sterling cash, Seven Blankets, One Cloak and One Gown piece. We collectively and individually agree to settle said land Onehunga upon said George Owen Ormsby his heirs, executors and assigns for ever. The above considerations in token whereof we affix our hands and seals this 26th day of September in the year of our Lord One thousand Eight hundred and forty-four.

Moana.l.s.
Thos. Walker his x mark l.s.
Reweti his x mark. l.s.
Keene x. l.s.

Witnesses—

C. Davis. J. Dilworth.

[Sketch of the land inserted here.]

Signed by the undermentioned parties in the presence of James Dilworth of Auckland and Charles Davis of same place this deed having been first read over and explained to the said parties by the said Charles Davis—

James Dilworth, Aut., Auckland.

C. Davis, Interpreter, Auckland.

Received the articles and money mentioned in this deed, namely Two double barreled guns, two pounds sterling cash seven blankets, one gown piece, and one cloak.

Moana x.
Reweti his x mark.

A True Copy of Original Deed.No. 60.P.C.

H. Hanson Turton. 
Wellington, 17th July, 1880.

However, not long after, the Fitzroy government did an about-turn and restored its monopoly and George's ownership was immediately subjected to an investigation by the Land Claims Commission who seized it for a Royal Fencibles Military settlement. By then he had built his Onehunga Lodge on the land. He was offered compensation but he believed it was inadequate and refused to accept. He felt he was being treated unjustly and unfairly by the government and ended up in a long and protracted dispute. His case was by no means unique; many others had lands and properties seized unjustly with poor compensation offers. it appears that the colonial government's land grabbing tendencies were not restricted to Maori only.

Unfortunately, George died in 1861 after succumbing to illness at the relatively young age of forty seven. His battle with the government had lasted until his passing; a struggle of seventeen years. It's not clear what happened to his land but it appears that upon his death the government got it.


Sources used:
1. Pioneer Land Surveyors of New Zealand, part iv, page 444.
2. From Sextants to Satellites: A Cartographic  Timeline for New Zealand by Brian Marshall, 2005.
3. New Zealand - Auckland - L Archives.
4. Information given by Debbie Lee Robinson, an Ormsby relative , Adelaide, Australia.



Arthur Sydney Ormsby 1825 ~ 1887 

Born in Ireland in February of 1825, Arthur Sydney was another of Reverend Owen Ormsby's sons, He was also the uncle after whom our own Arthur Sydney Ormsby of Puketotara was named.

He trained as a civil engineer specializing in railroads where he did a lot of work throughout Ireland and England. In 1849 he set his sights further abroad and went to America where he worked on various jobs including the Hoosac tunnel which was the longest tunnel in the U.S. at the time.

In 1852 he sailed to Australia in Melbourne for a brief period as Assistant Colonial Engineer before heading for New Zealand where he worked as a civil engineer and surveyor around the Auckland region. He obviously came to New Zealand because of his family connections here, it being the country his brothers Robert and George had chosen to call home. Of course, older brother George had long ago died but his family remained, and Robert, by now, had begun to set himself up permanently in the colony. However, Arthur seemed to possess a more restless spirit and around 1857 he went to Mauritius and India where he rose to the position of executive engineer of the Public Works department for the Indian Government. He held that post from 1858 to 1861 when he was suddenly made redundant. He believed he had been badly treated and disgruntled and bitter, returned to England and worked on other projects including the promotion of a tunnel between Scotland and the North of Ireland. 

He never finished that project because he died on the 24th of February, 1887 aged sixty-two.

Jersey Island 2015

Jersey Island 2015 ~ the Land of our Ancestors Lempriere and Aubin

Written by David Bell

The Township of Saint Aubin at dusk.

During our 2015 May-June trip to Europe to visit Winnie's brother and his family in Holland, we took a two day detour to Jersey Island, the ancestral land on my father's side. And as it turned out we were very glad we did so.

Jersey was not like I imagined; probably because everything I had learned about it was old history. I was not prepared for the bustling, modern Jersey that greeted us. I knew it would not be as primitive as when our ancestors lived there, but I still sort of half imagined it to be a quaint, quiet place; a lot slower than France and Britain, the two mainlands it shares. Instead, we immediately discovered a favorite holiday spot and prosperous business center. 

Jersey is not part of the United kingdom, even though closely allied both ideologically and culturally. It is, instead, a Crown dependency which is like having a monarch who reigns but does not rule. Under such a system Jersey is a self-governing possession of the crown with its own parliament and its own laws. Being a Crown dependency excludes it from membership in the Commonwealth but it is part of the European Union with the Euro as currency.

We also found out that it's some kind of tax haven that attracts a lot of wealthy people from England. An elderly local lady we chatted to on some steps leading down to the pebbly sand of Gorey Bay informed us she was waiting for her son to moor his small yacht; he had a successful business in England and kept a holiday yacht in the bay. He flew over frequently, even if just for the weekend, the flight being a mere 30-40 minutes and cheap. Looking at the hundreds of boats moored in the bay and all the other bays across the island, it appeared there were many others like him. I don't know how but apparently there are some financial benefits to be exploited by having Jersey residency.

Above:Looking out over the wing of our plane to catch our first glimpse of Jersey Island

Below: A closer aerial view.

We stayed in a small hotel in St Heliers, the island's capital. The island is not huge so it was a good base for the couple of days, the bus terminal being within walking distance. The bus system was excellent which was good because it was by bus we planned to do all our sight seeing and family history things. The buses were clean and comfortable and we were struck by how friendly and courteous the drivers were. More than once we found ourselves well short of the bus stop and seeing us hurrying the drivers pulled over and picked us up. I mention all this because Jersey just has the feel of a nice place to live. The climate is mild, the land very fertile, small well kept parks abound, and the houses have that neatly painted look of prosperity and wealth about them. Nearly all the homes are of stone or some permanent material and keep a modern but 'old' look; no doubt a deliberate effort to maintain an historical kind of charm. It worked because we were impressed with how nice everything looked and how well the buildings blended with their surroundings. Also, the streets are immaculate; quite narrow in parts but well maintained, many with trees or stonework walls running alongside. I learned later that Jersey has an abundance of its own unique pinkish rock which has been used since old times for buildings, roads and dry-walls, which explained why, to my eye, everything had a sort of uniform look about it. 

Our accommodation was the Staffordshire Hotel, three floors and old in style. It was classified two star but clean and comfortable enough and well located for our two day stay. The big bonus was its restaurant which was very reasonably priced with excellent food.

The lamb shanks were the best I've ever had. The desserts were good too. We didn't need to look elsewhere for a nice dinner.

Above: Some of the many parks and gardens across the island. Notice the New Zealand cabbage trees which suggests a climate similar to ours. Our cabbage trees were everywhere.

Above: We saw a lot of small farms and gardens all over Jersey, like this potato field with its neat stone wall.

Castles and big stone forts are common sites; some in better repair than others. Throughout their history the Channel Islands have been regularly fought over by the English and the French, with England finally gaining the upper hand. Consequently, Jersey and the other islands are now British. This old squabbling explains the numerous castle-like forts all around the Jersey coastline; the largest and best preserved being Elizabeth Castle at St Heliers and Mont Orgueil at Gorey Bay. Both are tourist attractions and for a price we could have taken a tour through one of them but we chose instead to be satisfied to walk around the outside. 

Above: The Elizabeth Castle at St. Heliers has a long path leading to it which is exposed at low       tide.

  

                                           Above: A closer view of Elizabeth Castle.

                                          Above: Gorey Bay and Mont Orgueil Castle.

Above: Gorey Bay is a popular tourist spot boasting a delightful township with cafes, restaurants and other tourist businesses. It also sports a sheltered, scenic bay where boats are moored, and a grand old castle watching over it like a giant stone sentinel.

One of the family history tasks we set ourselves was to visit at least a couple of cemeteries in search of some old ancestors. I knew the Aubins and Lemprieres were buried in several different cemeteries across Jersey, but from my records the names Grouville, St. Martins and Trinity came up as the parish graveyards where most were laid to rest. We caught buses to St Martins and Grouville to see who we could find. Luckily, the two were not too far apart so we were able to spend a few interesting hours searching out familiar names. It was a buzz each time we discovered an Aubin or Lempriere. 

The old churches on Jersey, like St Martins (above), are over a hundred years old, superbly kept and judging by the notices outside the entrances, still well used for worship services.

The St. Peter La Rocque Church, Grouville parish where we found several Aubins.

A cluster of Lemprieres under the shade of an ancient tree.

Reginald Raol Lempriere. Seigneur of Rosel and his wife Clemintine Baroness von ? 1873 -  1935

William Lempriere, Seigneur of Rosel, died 31 January, 1895 aged 76. And his wife Julia Anne Wayne, died 18 January 1892 aged 72.

Francois Aubin, died 4 February 1892 and his wife Elizabeth De Quetteville, died 27 July 1903 aged 79.

This is an interesting one. George Aubin, died 20 March 1895 shares this grave with Jane (nee Stone) Aubin, Thomas Letto Le Quesne 1994, Alice Emily Aubin Le Quesne 2003, and Maurice Phillip Boots as recent as 2011. I think the later burials must be cremations. I can't see how so many coffins can fit in one plot.

 

Phillippe Aubin, died 9 March 1861 and his wife Marie Madeleine Caudin, died 13 January aged 69. Also, Elise Esther Aubin and Upton Edward Boots and other family names.

Josue Aubin, died 21 February 1885 aged 74 and his wife Susanne Queree 1882 aged 68. Also Eugene Aubin, Eugene Perredes, Susanne Aubin died 5 June 1883 aged 25. Other names listed on this head stone are: Eugene Perredes, Susanne Aubin, Josue Aubin, and Ann Queree. It appears that several generations share the same plot - as well as the same names.

Finally, I wish to conclude this article with our search for Rosel the old Lempriere estate which has been discussed in an earlier article.

Winnie and I considered it a 'must-do' while in Jersey. It just wouldn't be right to leave without setting foot on that piece of our family history soil. We had hopes of actually visiting the old Rosel manor which is still Lempriere owned. We had information that being a place of historical significance it was open to the public on certain days. But when we arrived in Jersey we were told that it was now closed to the public. This was confirmed when we struck up a conversation with an elderly lady sitting on the steps going down from the Gorey Bay township to the beach. She was waiting for her son to come in from his small yacht moored in the bay. As it happened she was a friend of the Lemprieres of Rosel. She said we could probably contact the Lemprieres and being relatives they might possibly let us have a look. But it was getting late and we were leaving the next day. 

We had been told that there was a public walking trail that went through the Rosel estate and at one point you could see across the fields and get a good view of the Manor, so we decided to take a bus and see if we could find Rosel before sunset. With the help of the bus driver we disembarked near the walkway. A lady walking her dog knew the trail and took us to where it began and gave instructions on how to find the field to view the Manor. The following pictures tell the rest of the story.  

The start of the walkway to the Rosel estate; It was a very nice track that wound its way past a few country homes that were obviously owned by wealthy locals, through a forest and up a walled country lane.

The walled lane which was obviously very old. I could easily imagine our old ancestors walking or riding horses along it. 

The end of the lane opened onto green paddocks with Jersey cows grazing in them. I looked across to my right and to my delight spotted the unmistakable outline of Rosel House. There was a small gate opening into the field so I quickly opened it and went into the paddock, just to prove I have trod the soil of our ancestors. We hung about for a little while and Winnie took some more photos of the cows.

The next day we left Jersey after a delightful two days in which we enjoyed near perfect weather, some great sightseeing, excellent food, a walk through the War Tunnels with it's fascinating history of Jersey during the German occupation of World War Two, and a bunch of family history. We found Jersey to be one of the nicest places we visited on our trip to Europe. Of course in two days we didn't see or do a tenth of what's there is to see and do. 

We made this visit thinking it to be a once-in-a-lifetime thing, but now I'm not so sure. If we ever again visit Winnie's folk in Holland I would be sorely tempted to go there once more.

                                                The End

Our Windmill Folk

Our Windmill Folk

Written by David Bell

The Dutch Whanau

May, 2015, my wife Winnie and I set of on our much anticipated journey to Holland to visit her Dutch-Chinese relatives, of which there are many. These folk immigrated to Holland over the years from Hong Kong, New Guinea, and China. The first to make the transition was her aunt (her father's younger sister, Ang Hui Kim), who married a Hong Kong businessman, Kho Keng Tiat, and moved with him to Biak Island where they established a very successful trading business, petrol station and a few other side ventures.

Kho Keng Tiat and Ang Hui Kim ~ 2015.

When Indonesia took control of the Dutch half of New Guinea the family - now consisting of parents and three children - left and lived in Hong Kong for a while before using their Dutch residency to move to Holland and start again. They took with them a sizable fortune and set up several Indonesian restaurants that prospered and increased their wealth.Winnie's brother, Ang Yan San (Raymond) left Hong Kong in the early nineteen seventies to join his uncle and aunt and work in one in of their restaurants in Amsterdam.

The Amsterdam restaurant Raymond worked in after arriving in Holland. It has long since changed owners but still serves Indonesian food.

For a long time he worked as a lowly dishwasher and cleaner but through hard work, diligence and a powerful desire to learn and succeed, he earned the respect of his uncle who took him under his wing and helped him towards establishing his own business. His uncle generously gave him a percentage in another Indonesian restaurant on the Dutch-German border and from this humble beginning Raymond eventually became a prosperous restaurateur. However, it came at a cost. The decades of grinding work in the kitchen and the long sixteen to seventeen hour days combined with the stress of running the business caused him to suffer heart problems forcing early retirement. Fortunately, he had amassed enough wealth to allow him to give up the business and enjoy a financially comfortable retirement.

Raymond Ang Yan San ~ 2015. 

One is compelled to admire Raymond's great spirit. He came from Hong Kong with a very limited education and only $HK200 in his pocket given by his mother, undoubtedly all she had at the time. He was not the academic type. School to him was a place to avoid and sitting in a classroom doing lessons all day was nothing more than mental torture; he was a hands-on kind of person. So, when the opportunity arrived to go to Holland to learn the restaurant trade he took it.

Raymond can never be accused of being lazy or lacking ambition because he worked long hours and threw himself into learning to cook. In the end he became an expert chef and and astute businessman. He also fathered three boys all of whom have become skilled in their chosen professions. Holland quickly became the land which he now calls home.  

As the old saying goes, behind every successful man is a great woman. This is certainly true of his wife, Lai Kam, a bubbly, active, humor-loving bundle of drive and energy. She is also hugely supportive of her husband, and a caring and loving mother and grandmother. The years of hard work have also exacted a price as she too battles a health problem. Luckily, both she and her husband are so positive that their health difficulties are no barrier to their enjoyment of life and their devotion to their family. She and Raymond are an example of two people who came though years of tough slog and terrific struggle by working together and sticking together despite their differences.

Lai Kam Chan ~ 2015

Lai Kam's journey from China to Holland is a story with all the elements of fear, sorrow, bravery, hardship and final victory; a story well worth telling.

She was born in Fujian Province, South China, and like so many from that province, her father lived and worked in the Philippines as a means to support his family back in China. However, when the Communists under Mao Tse Tung defeated Chiang Kai Shek and his Nationalists, they implemented policies which nationalized all lands and properties to the communist government, making private ownership and private business punishable by imprisonment or death. These conditions went completely against the grain for such people as hers who believed in hard work and free enterprise. It soon became imperative to her father that the family (his wife and young daughter) leave China by any means possible. It was also imperative the family get out of China because with China now closed it was impossible for her father to ever return. If he did he would never get out again. Therefore, a hard decision had to be made; should he return to be with his family and thereafter live under communist rule, or do the almost unthinkable; risk the lives of his wife and daughter and spirit them out of the country into Hong Kong. One can only imagine the difficulty of such a decision. He would have been well aware of the dangers of smuggling them out, but he would have also seriously weighed up the prospects of life in China under the oppression of communism. No doubt Lai Kam and her mother would have been well aware of the dangers as well. But, when the final decision to flee was made their determination was resolute.

As already mentioned, Lai Kam had a father and many uncles who had earlier left China, one of which lived in nearby Hong Kong. It was arranged that he would organize their escape. This would have been in the early nineteen sixties when the borders were closed and guarded by deadly machine gun posts. Communist gunboats also patrolled the rivers and coast around Hong Kong. It has never been recorded exactly how many refugees lost their lives trying to sneak into Hong Kong by land or water. Nevertheless, despite the risk and very real dangers, her father and uncle arranged for them to board a small fishing boat that would hide them in the hold along with other refugees and take them to Hong Kong and freedom.

When it was time they left under the cover of darkness and boarded a small diesel powered boat and were stuffed like sardines with many others in the small, stuffy hold under the wooden deck. It would be a long, uncomfortable trip along the coast to Hong Kong; just how uncomfortable they were soon to discover.

It didn't take long before several of the passengers got seasick, probably hastened by the stench of diesel fumes that seeped into the hold from the old engine. There was only a couple of buckets for their toiletry but these were quickly filled with vomit. The stink of other peoples' vomit made Lai Kam even more ill and it is one of the things of the trip she still has vivid memories of. It wasn't possible to empty and clean the buckets regularly so the passengers were forced to endure the stench and foul air for long periods. In addition to the vomit, it wasn't long before they had to deal with the other bodily functions and the disposal of human waste.

It was a brutally hard week of chugging slowly along the coast travelling at night to avoid the gunboat patrols then hiding up somewhere during daylight hours. Lai Kam remembers the relief of fresh air and the fear of being detected as they hid in some cove or bay. She remembers climbing from the boat and clambering up slippery rocks at some designated safe place, the relief of being out of the stinking hold tempered by the fear of discovery. Everyone was constantly on the lookout for patrol boats.

Thankfully, there were no patrol boats and they made it to Hong Kong where they were joyously united with their father and other relatives.

Hong Kong was to be their new home but several years later a sudden tragedy blew that plan to pieces: Lai Kam's father was the victim of a street robbery that went horribly wrong. One day on the streets in the Philippines some muggers attacked him and in the process shot him to death. It was heartbreaking news for Lai Kam and her mother and left them completely without a provider. Again, it was family who came to their rescue, this time in faraway Holland. They were offered the possibility of another start by going to Holland to join other relatives there and work in their restaurant businesses. It sounded like a good option, the only problem being how to get there.

Having already managed one escape they probably felt they could do one more. However, this time would be vastly different with its own specific problems. Firstly, they were free to travel wherever they pleased so they weren't desperate refugees. The problem this time was that they needed immigration papers and visas and the like, and in their current situation these were impossible to acquire. They would have to do something a little more enterprising - sneaky is probably a better description. They would sneak into Holland and if they could stay there long enough they would then apply for Dutch residency. Holland's immigration laws back then were considerably tolerant and often gave amnesty to long-term overstayers if their behavior and contribution to society was satisfactory. And so begins another good story. This escape was not to be on a rickety old boat but but modern jet liner; this now being the mid nineteen seventies.

The plan cooked up was to fly by plane to France where they would be met by their uncle who would take them back with him to Holland by car. Simple.

However, Lai Kam and her mother had never been on an airliner before let alone travel to a strange land so far away. The first big question was what they should wear so as not to draw too much attention to themselves and arouse suspicion among the airline and immigration officials. It was decided they pretend to be tourists and dress accordingly. They had no idea how tourists looked so Lai Kam and other well meaning family members dug up some travel magazines and scoured the advertisements and articles for ideas. The result was a wardrobe of high-heeled shoes, tight nylons, brightly colored skirts and oversize sun glasses. Further, neither of them spoke a word of English so another helpful uncle instructed them it was safest to just smile brightly and say yes to everything. Years later, in hindsight, Lai Kam saw the fatal flaw in this advice. Imagine if a conversation with an immigration officer went:

"Why are you here?"

"Yes!"

"Are you here to seek work?"

"Yes!"

"Are you trying to sneak into the country?"

"Yes!"

"So you are an illegal immigrant and should be deported?"

"Yes!"

Thankfully, there were no such interviews.

The days leading up to their departure was loaded with a mix of uncertainty, excitement, anxiety and sheer terror, and when the great day finally arrived Lai Kam, and her mother showed up at the airport decked out in flowery long dresses, shiny silk stockings and high-heeled shoes purchased from the street markets. On their arms hung large handbags and their faces were made up to make them look like rich tourists. Best of all, their eyes were covered by the biggest, darkest glasses the street stalls could offer. Ah-dao, Lai Kam's Hong Kong born little brother, was also a member of the traveling party.

It was a huge occasion and about eighty family friends came to see them off. Apparently no-one told them this was supposed to be a secret operation. Travelling overseas by airliner in those days was a big thing and an event not to be missed if one had friends or relatives flying overseas.

The Flight to France was uneventful and no-one seemed to pay too much attention to the two bumpkins dressed to the nines and looking utterly ridiculous.

As the hours passed, Lai Kam and her mother became increasingly uncomfortable in their unfamiliar apparel; the shoes squeezed their feet and sent pains up their legs, the dresses were unbearable and the cheap made-in-Hong Kong sunglasses were so dark they couldn't see past their noses, but they persevered lest they blew their cover.

Their Holland uncle, to avoid the more officious international airport in Paris, booked them on a plane that landed in some smaller country airport. It took a lot longer to reach and when they finally arrived the two women were exhausted and thoroughly fed up with their tourist roles. As they stumbled through the plane door onto the steps, Lai Kam's mother grabbed her daughter's arm and complained that she couldn't see a thing through her glasses and feared she would fall down the steps. Lai Kam told her to put her hands on her shoulder and follow her down. When they got to the bottom the high-heels were cutting into their feet and were so painful they both decided to discard them and walked barefoot across the rough tarmac. By the time they got to where her uncle was waiting anxiously for them, they looked like anything but rich tourists; their nylons torn to shreds, their shoes hanging from their hands and their splendid dresses ragged and crumpled. They also had a tired, grouchy little boy in tow. It was with great relief they climbed into the car and sped off toward Holland.

While there were a lot of adjustments to make, life gradually got better and Holland became their permanent home. A few years later she met and married our own Raymond and became his rock and support in their restaurant businesses and on the home front.

When Winnie and I visited Raymond and Lai Kam, they opened their hearts and home to us without reservation and showed us the best time of our lives by stuffing us with the finest food, hospitality, and an itinerary that took us all to Paris, London, and Berlin.

Winnie and Raymond had not seen each other for over thirty years so meeting up again was a long overdue and happy reunion ~ 2015.

                                          Dutch Houses

Raymond and Lai Kam are firmly established in Holland, a country they love and call their permanent home. The following pictures are snapshots of Winnie and my vacation there during May and June, 2015. We were greatly surprised by Holland. We envisioned it to be a small and crowded place with sparse countryside. The reality, we found, was quite the opposite. Yes, geographically it is a relatively small land with a population far exceeding New Zealand, but it has a surprising amount of plains carpeted in green crops such as grain, potato, vegetables and seed plants. The Dutch love their flowers so there are also huge areas of  glasshouses growing flowers and fruits.  Also, small dairy and sheep farms can be seen from time to time. Following are some captioned photographs taken on our trip which give an idea of what we discovered about Holland.

Most people live in flats or apartments. They are generally quite small but there are bigger places for higher rental. Raymond's address is 75 Hamontstraat (Hamont Street). The Government provides much of the housing by  building large apartment complexes which are basic but neat and comfortable. Most, however - like Raymond and Lai Kam's here at Sloten near Amsterdam - are privately owned. The more wealthy have larger stand-alone houses many of which front onto one of the thousands of canals that cover Holland. Others live in city houses and flats which can be very costly.

Above: A typical old-style Dutch cottage and it's small front garden. Most Dutch people seem to be very house-proud, their houses tidy and neat. Note the cottages in the background, typical of the more up-market dwelling. Below: Some city apartments along the canal in Amsterdam.

Some folk live in more unusual dwellings, like these innovative buildings in the following photos. The Dutch are renowned for their experimental and innovative architects and engineers as can be seen in these architectural examples. The first picture shows some views of what has been called the world's most innovative building and best example of blending the city with housing. The living apartments are built into the huge hangar-like structure which arches over a large space filled with shops and businesses, creating a covered marketplace. The residents can gaze down through their inside windows onto the busy market below. Also, the outside walls look out over the city and ocean. It is truly a remarkable building but to live in it might take some adjustments to your idea of living space. No doubt the apartments are very well appointed but it almost seems like living in an anthill. The convenience, though, must be spectacular.

The other pictures show a complex of experimental housing designed to maximize space. We went inside the display one and while it probably fulfilled its space saving function it would take a bit of time to get accustomed to the crazy angles and curves throughout the interior. I think younger people would like living in them, but not me. Not many others either because I never saw this kind of housing elsewhere in Holland.

A street view showing the apartments on the outside and marketplace underneath on the inside.

Interior view showing apartment windows looking down on the marketplace. Note the huge mural covering the entire interior. The flats on the roof have their windows on the floors.

Looking from one end through the interior to The Pencil, another apartment building.

                                           Looks like something from Alice In Wonderland.


Below: Other dwellings included some of what I considered the more ideal kind of home; those set on the canals, their lawns ending at the waters edge with ducks, fish, frogs and other wildlife at their doorsteps. A few lucky folk even live on canal houseboats.

                                                Windmills

Windmills have always fascinated me; my two most enduring images of Holland since childhood being of windmills and the little boy who stuck his finger in a hole in the dyke saving the whole country from disaster. Strangely, when I asked the locals about this old children story (which we all read at primary school) no-one had heard of it and thought it quite amusing. However, they easily related to it because I was quickly informed that water, while great to have in such abundance, was also their biggest enemy, the whole country being part of a massive ancient river plain. The other name for Holland is Nederland, which means flat-land. The old Nederland - or Netherlands as they are also called - included today's Holland, Belgium and part of Germany. But, over the centuries, wars and skirmishes caused it to be divided up into its current borders. 

While it was once a plain with rivers threaded throughout, it had substantial dry places with exceptionally fertile soil in the form of islands and small high patches on which people settled. But it was prone to flooding so over time the inhabitants kept the water at bay as best they could by building dams and canals for drainage. The eventual advent of windmills brought revolutionary change to these lowlands.

Windmills had been around for a long time; the ancient Egyptians probably being the first to invent some sort of wind powered mechanism. The Arabs and then Romans also made windmills. Later the English built them for various uses but all these were relatively primitive and simple. It was the Dutch who took them to new technological heights and made windmills a common sight all across the land. They were mostly used to pump water away to safety and also to irrigate small farms, but it wasn't long before they were also put to more industrial uses like grinding wheat into flour, crushing colored minerals into powder for paint, sawing logs into lumber, and a host of other things.

Windmills helped Holland both control the water and become a rich industrial center. At one time there were tens of thousands of windmills of all kinds all over Holland from big industrial ones to midget pump-mills set on the banks of ditches and irrigation channels. For a time they were also handy producers of electricity. Of course windmills would be of no use if there was no wind. Luckily, Holland has never had a shortage of this natural resource. 

Today, few of the tens of thousands of windmills still exist, overtaken by electricity and other forms of modern technology. Those that remain are thanks to private windmill enthusiasts and restorers, tourist operators, and the few farmers who still like to use them. While the old Dutch windmill can still be seen here and there around Holland, its modern counterpart is everywhere; I speak of course of the huge wind-powered turbines that can be seen wherever you go in Holland - and Europe, for that matter.

Dutch windmills once had a multitude of uses. Nowadays they are mostly kept for historical purposes. The above photographs were taken at a torist attraction featuring the old style windmills.

I paid four euros to go inside a fully restored and working Dutch windmill. It was well worth the money to see the great old technology - simple but ingenious - of cogs, shafts and wheels all made of wood, and the huge crushing wheel carved from stone. Not a piece of metal in sight. I loved the smell and sounds of the old mill grinding away, the wooden mechanisms creaking and groaning, the slow, rhythmic whooshing of the sails outside. It had a real old feel about it. I had always wondered what it was like in an old windmill so this was one of my childhood dreams come true.

Wind turbines are planted everywhere. No doubt the farmers and landowners are well compensated. Who would want such huge monstrosities on their land unless paid handsomely? However, a turbine post doesn't appear to take away too much useful land, being unfenced with grass or crops growing right up to the base. 

                                  Beaches and Seaside Towns

Another surprise about Holland is that it has some good beaches and seaside towns. The capital, The Hague, is situated on one such beach which on sunny summer weekends is packed with swimmers, sun lovers, diners and party-goers. Raymond took us to Den Hague after I expressed my doubts that Holland could have good sandy beaches. What I discovered was a surprisingly nice one with quality sand that stretched for several kilometers along the coast.

The beachfront boardwalk at The Hague. It was about half a km long with cafes, restaurants and bars the whole length. The weather wasn't too good the day the above photo was taken, but on sunny days and evenings the place is packed.                                                          

                                                      


   Above: One of the quaint seaside towns along the coast.

                                         Public Toilets
One thing that New Zealanders find hard to get used to are the public toilet facilities in Europe. In our country we enjoy easy and free access to good toilets wherever we are; town, city, and even way out in the countryside. Not so in Europe; public toilets don't seem to be a priority and what few they have can be disgusting. There are some pay toilets which are turnstile operated or have attendants taking money. We balked at this at first but soon were happy to pay a euro or two for a decent, clean loo. 

Paris and Rome were bad but Jersey and England were good. Germany was OK because they were mostly pay toilets and clean. Holland had some great public toilets as shown in the pictures below.

This one was in a busy square with ladies walking by. I had to wait until they had all left before I dared use it. I didn't want to but when you gotta go you gotta go! The pee goes down a drain by your feet and it stinks but it doesn't seem to bother anyone.

This is the ultimate in portable el-fresco toilets. I love its simplicity. It was located at the beach at Den Hague and I just had to try it out. You would have noticed that they are for males only; ladies have to hang on or go into bars or restaurants to answer the call of nature.


The End...for now. We still have some unfinished family business that we didn't get time for on this trip. More will be added as it comes to hand.