Rapido Resting

I apologize for jumping around in time and space, and going back to mid August and the Netherlands. Sometimes I just do not inhabit a linear narrative.

Though I’ve been told nearly all land in the Netherlands is man made, I did spend one night sleeping on (what passes as) land, rather than on water during my (very short) European excursion. From cursory research, it seems that around 26% of the country is below sea level today, and much of the land which constitutes the country on a map has been shaped or reclaimed by human intervention over time, alongside normal natural processes, of course. The earth is never still.

If you live in the Netherlands I will probably forgive you for thinking the earth is flat.

For my third night in the Netherlands, my host found me accommodation in a vintage 1970 Rapido caravan (travel trailer) which was parked in a farmer’s field and outfitted very simply with camping basics: towels and sleeping bags on the already unfolded bed; teabags, mugs, a couple of plastic plates and cutlery, electricity for boiling water in a tea kettle, and electric lights. Yoga mat in purple bag is my own. It did take me until 3 am to find out how to switch one of the interior lights off but that was probably my transnational, sleep deprived and confused brain, not a design flaw.

The Rapido is a very interesting folding travel trailer, designed by French cabinet maker and furniture carver, Constant Rousseau. Versions of the model I slept in were made in France from the 1960s to 1980s but Constant Rousseau’s first attempt was a tent on a trailer which he designed and made for a family camping trip in 1958.

Image of Constant Rousseau’s tent on a trailer from https://www.autoevolution.com/news/the-rapido-folding-caravan-the-unicorn-rv-you-probably-never-heard-of-211894.html

Inspired by his tent-on-a-trailer prototype, Constant moved from cabinet making to travel trailer design and manufacture, founding the Rapido Group in 1961 to make these very lightweight, folding (so low profile under tow) travel trailers.

My Rapido-for-the-night was already set up so I have to believe that it would be possible for a single person to unfold it in a very short time.

Both images of Rapido set-up are from https://www.autoevolution.com/news/the-rapido-folding-caravan-the-unicorn-rv-you-probably-never-heard-of-211894.html

Interestingly, in these days of mergers and buyouts, the Rapido Group is still a family owned company, still based in France, though it seems they tend to make more conventional motorhomes these days.

I felt grateful and lucky to get to spend a night in this unique, fifty six year old, minimalist marvel of visionary engineering and design. I shared the farmers field with a dozen or so other campers of various nationalities and in various vehicles and tents.

There was a clean and spacious ablution block at the entrance to the field, with flush toilets and plenty of hot water for us all to share. It was very civilized and there was way more space between campers than say in some Arizona state park campsites I’ve known where I had to do yoga in a paved parking space alongside my vehicle.(Parker Lake I’m looking at you)

In the morning I was up before sunrise, of course, and went out to explore.

The Rapido was parked in the shrub enclosed field in front of the red roof on left of this image.

There were tiny fields with of cows and sheep, bordered by canals full of splashy quacky waterfowl.

The canals were also lined with beautiful colourful wild (or naturalized) flowers and herbs making me think of all the old European herbal apothecary books I’ve encountered.

As the sky warmed into pre dawn, big honking vees of geese flew overhead.

The landscape became golden.

If one can call it landscape.

Everything is on such a small scale in the Netherlands. I am accustomed to roaming hundred acre woods (Thankyou AA Milne for the phrase) and wilderness wild lands in both my country of birth and the enchanted desert which currently has me enraptured. In this small, neat country I struggled to differentiate farmland from village or homestead or industrial area.

There are wind generators in the morning mists as well as a church steeple.

Everywhere there was water reflecting, enhancing, expanding space almost the way one places mirrors in small rooms to make them seem bigger.

There were pocket handkerchief sized fruit orchards complete with real live swans (or are those geese?)

I walked past homes with amazing architectural styles so gingerbread house one wants to take a bite.

So neat. I’ve wandered through that crack where the light gets in, into one of my childhood fairy tale books.

So controlled.

Such manicured and precise thatchwork.

And sometimes just so quirky. I want what this landscape designer (below) was having.

I came to a village where front gardens were looser, and less formal and controlled.

Amazingly colourful and bright in the first rays of sunlight. Amaranth and marigolds make wonderful companions.

But step back and the control, the order, the small scale is there again. This is a culture of boundaries, firm lines, clearly drawn.

Exhuberance contained, controlled, staked.

Disciplined.

In one of the villages I pass through, I discover that I am on an established wandelnetwerk or hiking and cycling trail network. Fortunately it is early and there isn’t much traffic yet. The roads in the Netherlands are very narrow, and would be regarded as single lane width in the United States even though they are dual carriageway. The few cyclists and cars which pass seem to be way too close to me and to be moving way too fast for comfort. Driving in the Netherlands reminded me a bit of driving in India in the way everything mobile shares the same space regardless of direction and dodges one another at high speed. No blaring horns though. The Dutch wouldn't be that overtly emotive and expressive. Oh! No! In my (albeit very brief)experience there’s a cultural tendency to be dour and blunt, to point of rudeness even.

I also realize, speaking of discipline, and dour blunt people, that I am miles away from the Rapido where my host is picking me up for a brunch appointment with a Dutch household at a certain set time.

I would love to carry on walking all day through these postage stamp farmlands and villages but reluctantly turn around.

‘Bye swans and geese and quacky splashies.

Tot ziens campsite in a farmer’s field.

So that’s Dutch camping and Dutch hiking done then?

Ja. Nee. Yes. No. Maybe. I didn’t have time to explore the orchard and pick myself some fruit which experience came with the overnight stay, as the maybe slightly tipsy farmer had offered when I checked in. I turned down farmer/landlord’s offer to join him for a glass of wine. That I don’t drink alcohol might not have been the only reason for refusal.

And I didn’t finish the walking trail.

An agricultural museum with a fake swan in its very stagnant canal, but pretty flowers were real. At least there’s that. It was too early for me to see inside.

But does one ever finish the trail?

So much world to explore and so little time.

I absolutely loved my night in a vintage Rapido caravan in a farmer’s field and I absolutely loved walking through dawn into daylight through Dutch countryside, farmland and villages (even if I couldn’t tell the difference.)

Getting absolutely eaten alive by gnats or mosquitoes? Not my favorite experience, but small price to pay and only to be expected with all that standing water about, and a heat wave and all. Note to self: carry bug spray more often.

Recommended Reading

Since we are talking about interesting and unexpected experiences in foreign places:

Villa Coco by Andrew Sean Greer, 2026. Absolutely the best holiday reading, a novel overflowing with charm, love and lightness, not taking itself too seriously and ending on a boat. Okay more of a plot synopsis would be: an aspiring American archivist lands a job cataloguing (so he thinks) the art and antiques of an Italian baronessa. Many misadventures later he finds himself on a boat, his life going in some other direction. Mediterranean fun and intrigue doesn’t come better. A good reminder not to take ourselves too seriously.