And the juice! On, that heavenly nectar. It came in rather thick glass bottles, kind of like something off a 1950's American milk truck, only in Holland. There were still seeds in the strawberry and the kiwi, still hairs in the pineapples and mango. There was a certain sweetness though, so tangy and rich that your lips would pucker at every sip trying to suck more flavor out. It was agricultural ecstasy of the purest form. Tulips be damned. Holland's true magic lay in this humble elixir, opaque and bright with berries and fruit too fresh to be anything but Dutch. We loved it so much we carried our water in the bottles for the rest of the trip, and it was a sad, sad day when those subtle fruit scents no longer baited the sense with every open.
