Welcome. Close your eyes... Now imagine this. Raindrops ringing as they hit the wet bike lanes. The smell of aromatic coffee floating in the air. Now, open your eyes... Sun. Yes. Is it real or not? Netherlands, where Christmas is sunny, and summer is rainy. You have no choice but to wear sunglasses. My eyes haven’t seen sunlight in so long. But I’m not here to talk about a sunny day... I’m not a meteorologist or a prophet. Well, maybe I’ll talk about it a little.
But today, besides the sun, we’re also traveling in another strange time capsule and the past. Just please close the door behind you when you enter... history needs to stay preserved for future generations. Fiuuulllllll. Crrrr. One second, the time machine is leaking air again... Okay, ready. Now, take a deep breath. Fiiiiiulllllll. We've arrived. No, don't go to wooden building... that’s a restaurant. You can stop by there after the museum.
Brabants Oud Museum. That’s right. Or, as I like to call it, "the prehistoric IKEA exhibition."- for poor people. Of course, this is long before IKEA appeared and made millions of people ruin their weekends with hex keys and missing bolts. But I wouldn’t be surprised if one of IKEA’s founders passed through here, glanced at the old woodworking techniques, and thought, "Hmm, this looks like a great business idea... if we remove the quality and put it all in boxes!" After all, one of their warehouses is right here in Oosterhout… where I work too.
In reality, the museum is an incredible place if you want to understand how people lived and worked before electricity and Wi-Fi became essential. The section called the "Flemish Barn"... or "Ambachtenschuur" did I wrote it correctly? ...reminded me of that fairy-tale workshop where an old craftsman hammers away at wood until it comes to life. Except here, instead of living puppets, we have antique woodworking tools that look like they were last used by someone who had no electricity but a lot of free time. The shoemaking equipment, on the other hand, looks straight out of a Victorian thriller... hammers, leather, mysterious little nails… You can almost picture a craftsman sitting by candlelight, thinking, “I won’t sleep tonight, but these shoes will be a masterpiece!”
And the blacksmith’s forge... oh, the forge! Imagine the workplace of a person who realized that a hammer is not just a tool but a way of life. Iron meets fire, and suddenly, you’re wondering if you should forge something, just for the experience. And, of course, the clogs... because you can’t talk about the Netherlands without those famous wooden shoes. I can already picture a farmer from 1900 trying to run from an angry bull, his clogs clattering like castanets. A true symphony of.... Heels.
And just when you think you’ve seen it all, you stumble upon the miniature park. Now, imagine a city in miniature... streets, churches, houses, public buildings… Well, maybe not exactly Lego… But imagine if there were tiny people in this miniature town, living their peaceful little lives until, suddenly, a gigantic tourist... me... starts stomping through their streets. In my head, I immediately see a scene straight out of "Gulliver’s Travels"... panic, screams, tiny people waving their hands, yelling, “The giant is coming! Run!” One hides behind the miniature church, another scrambles up the tiny water tower, and a third just faints from sheer terror. And there I stand, towering over it all, wondering... what if I accidentally step on one of them? Or worse... what if the tiny people organize and tie me down like in the book? I can already imagine waking up, immobilized by miniature ropes, as some tiny mayor reads out a fine for illegally entering their town.
Okay, okay, reality is much calmer... there are no tiny people in the miniature park, just buildings. But admit it, for a moment, you imagined walking between them, feeling the slight temptation to play the monster suddenly appearing on their horizon. Back to the real story. Woodworking in the Netherlands was a serious business. Not just a "do-it-yourself" project for a lazy Sunday afternoon, but a full-blown industry. Furniture was real, heavy, solid... something that wouldn’t fall apart if you looked at it the wrong way. Cabinets, tables, chairs... everything was handcrafted, with carvings, decorations, and not a single cheap plastic part in sight. Not that plastic was cheap.
At the same time, shipbuilding was thriving because if there were no roads, there were always rivers, and in Netherlands, there are plenty and of course a lot of channels. And let’s not forget the barrels... because without barrels, there’s no wine, and without wine, there’s no joy, and without wine, the women nagged a lot more. Meanwhile, blacksmiths took care of horseshoes, since back then, horses were the “original cars,” just without the honking. And while industrialization inevitably replaced manual labor with machines, some trades like shoemaking survived... probably because people realized that walking barefoot through the streets wasn’t exactly ideal. So, while factory-made shoes dominated the market, cobblers still had work, repairing what was already produced because, hey, economic crises spare no one.
As for wooden shoes... clogs... they were worn with pride. Because even though they were as hard as rocks, they were sturdy and durable. Or at least that’s what people claimed while secretly hiding their blisters. Today, clogs remain just a tourist souvenir, because who in their right mind would choose to walk around in something that sounds like a horse’s hooves on asphalt?
🎟️ Ticket Prices:
Adults €9,00
Children 4 to 12 years €4,50
Museumcard free
🌐 Website:
Brabants Oud Museum
suffer from the past, to long for the future, but to forget the present.
Any unsourced images and writing are my own. Life is worth it! Thank you for support and follow me @darthsauron