Drooling Over Clogs

I wrote about Zaanse Schans in an earlier blog that combined photos of two days, but I skipped an essential element of the day:  the clogs. Before I head into that, I want to mention again that I was thoroughly enchanted by the windmills, the boats, and the blessing of being there with Ruth and the girls. Ben was working, as he was during the week days, but it was still a fine day. So after this one final photo of a windmill,  which I just couldn't seem to prevent myself from including, I'll head into the clogs. Since I couldn't get the ones I wanted, I didn't buy any. Imagine that. 

First, I'd like to say that I love what they call them. Klompen. It sounds like what it is. When you hear someone walk in them, they just clomp. It's a solid sound. There's a clog factory at Zaanse Schans. They display the different types of clogs, and there's even a demonstration where you can watch a man (wearing clogs, of course) make a pair. It's amazing to see him pour the water out of them when he finishes. I never realized how much water was in wood until I saw his demonstration. It was fascinating. He even made everyone laugh with his humorous apology for using a German machine for part of his work. There's a long-standing feud that I think is only partly serious between the Dutch and the Deutsch. 


Here come the clogs... First we have the Streekklompen, or regional street shoes. 

I love some of these, but none of them made me want to whip out the plastic. The ones for brides and grooms are really fancy. I wondered what Elisha would think if I brought her a pair. (She's marrying our middle son in December.) She'd probably nod her head and say, "Yep, that's your mama. You don't think she really expects me to wear them to the wedding, do you?"






The Sunday dress clogs, Zondagse Klompen, are about what I'd expect. I like the men's shoes better than the ladies shoes. Who designs these fussy things ladies wear these days, anyway? Do I have to pick out something uncomfortable for Jeremy's wedding? Crap. Maybe I should have gotten some wooden shoes after all. Here are the Sunday clogs...





Clogs around the world are interesting. I love the Japanese Geta. That's the first pair I would have bought. They weren't for sale—and I was only beginning to drool. Within the next few minutes, I mentally spent thousands of dollars. I bought clogs for me. I bought clogs for Sherrie and Schmath. And that pair would look fine on Dick and Carol's display shelf! I wonder if Ellen would like that cute little... you get the idea. Shoes for everyone. Can you figure out which ones I picked out for you? None of them were for sale, of course, and I could never have afforded them in any case.





These are the best of the best,
and there are several pair that I (almost)
broke the tenth commandment over myself.
Thou shalt not covet, you know.

The closeups follow, and I'd be interested to see how much they'd actually charge if a person could convince them to sell, instead of just displaying them for nuts like me to drool over.

Walk carefully in these (above). I'll have to buy two pair. I really wanted the skates below (both kinds).

Don't they make you feel like hitting the streets? I'll bet I'd kill myself, but what a way to go!

I won't be getting any of these, but as Robert Browning once so eloquently put it, "A man's reach must exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?"

[Author's note:  You should be aware that blogger has a new and very difficult to manage (at least for me) editor. Perhaps I'll get used to it. It has some great features if I can ever make them work properly. Otherwise, I'll go back to the old way. This one doesn't seem worth the effort. It took me three hours to get this out, and it doesn't look great to me.]