By Robin Intemann
Special to The Gazette

GOUDA, Netherlands — Cheese markets are commonplace in this nook of the world, but it was the weekly one in this relatively small town that grabbed my interest.

I knew I liked the cheese, and after reading more about the town before a recent visit overseas, we included it on our trip. We only needed to schedule travel plans so we’d be in Gouda (pronounced howda) on market day: from 10 a.m. to noon on Thursdays.

We arrived by train the day before with plenty of time to explore the historic central area. It’s ringed by restaurants and shops with offshoots in several directions around canals and brick buildings. Our server that night said the market was not to be missed. She’d grown up in Gouda and said she still enjoyed it. I found this reassuring, but didn’t admit it was what drew us here.

Long before crowds gathered in front of Gouda’s medieval town hall in the town center, several pallets of golden wheels of cheese lined two rows. These were divided by a worn, cobblestone pathway wide enough for a horse-drawn wagon to transport the pallets to the nearby weigh station – less than 100 yards away.

The path also provided plenty of room for the cheese makers and buyers to haggle over prices, and for the group of traditionally-dressed young people to pose for photos.

Before the fun began, a man who might well be called Mr. Gouda, based on his bright yellow suit, explained what to expect. He spoke first in Dutch, before he smoothly switched to English, French followed by German. He caught everyone by surprise when he shifted to Spanish, which earned him a round of applause.

The cheese makers were identified by their navy blue work jackets, jeans and kerchiefs; the buyers wore mid-length, white cotton coats like those associated with a research or medical lab.

The maker and buyer stood in front of a set of pallets where they exchanged handshakes to begin what seemed to be an amiable exchange. Soon their expressions changed, the smiles were gone, and their demeanors grew intense as negotiations began. As each named a price the two slapped their right hands against each other. We learned this was called handjeklap. At times it was a rapid, heated interchange, until an agreement was reached – almost.

At this point, the buyer picked up a cheese round, held it close to his ear and thumped it. Here’s where an explanation in any language would have been helpful. Next, the buyer cored a round to taste it before the deal was finalized on a slip of paper. He handed pieces of cheese to a few in the crowd. This occurred in front of each grouping of pallets.

As the business continued it wasn’t long before a polka band began to play; apparently, the musical talent changes from week-to-week, but there’s always music before the market ends. The atmosphere was lively; it drew tourists and residents alike.

Nearby, on the same plaza, was an outdoor market with vendors selling everything from fresh produce to used clothing, from artwork to dry goods, and, of course, cheese.

Gouda is less than an hour from Amsterdam by train. We rented a centrally-located apartment, 10 minutes from the train station and a five minute walk to the town center. Besides the town hall, which was in the midst of renovation, landmarks include the Gouda museum detailing the rich history of the town and a large Gothic church with large, striking stained-glass windows.

We had access to two bicycles which allowed us to explore the surrounding area past dairy farms and poppy fields. We learned to ride like locals, breezing past pedestrians and cars. We did pay attention to the set of traffic lights meant for cyclists (there are also designated lights for vehicles and those on foot).

In spite of its name, the cheese is not produced in this medieval town, although it has always been traded there, local history.

It was the market that drew us to Gouda; we left with a few small rounds of cheese. Those, with the friendly people, rich history and old town charm made our three days there a highlight of our Netherlands visit.