Want to not just float around on a cruise ship, stroll along a pine tree-lined boulevard, or roll out the beach towel on a tropical beach? Ivo Weyel looks on the bright side: going on holiday in your own country also has its advantages. “The wolf is back in the Netherlands, so why not me?”
Text: Ivo Weyel | Online editor: Natasha Hendriks
Image: Herman van Heusden
At The Duke Club, Butler Hans is omnipresent. When you need him, he always just arrives. You wonder if he hasn't been cloned, if there aren't more butlers Hans around. When we arrive at The Duke Club, he is already approaching us, in a tight black suit with black gloves and snakeskin cowboy boots, a mix of Herman Brood and Bobby Lee Thornton. A day earlier he had called to inquire what kind of drinks we want in our minibar, whether we need anti-allergic pillows, or whether there are any special requests. I said just use champagne, always and everywhere, then you won't have any children with me.
The Duke Club is unique in our country. Partly a business club with a membership price tag of 35.000 euros per year, partly hotel. Hundreds of employees are walking around. There is no reception at The Duke Club, no counter. There is butler Hans. He takes us to the suite. It's big. The bed is big, the television is big, the bathtub, the shower, everything is big. The Duke Club itself is also large, 85 hectares of land with an 18-hole golf course, an arboretum, walking and cycling paths and water features.
The driveway of Het Roode Koper is long and winding. We are surrounded by man-sized rhododendrons (they call them rhododendrons here). The hotel villa was built in 1912 by the Van Limburg-Stirums and looks like a chic villa in the Netherlands should look for centuries: beautiful without excess, more homely than imposing, wealth in camouflage. Five permanent gardeners take care of the gigantic park garden with hedges and hedges and sight lines into the horizon.
It is located on the Veluwe, in the middle of the deer and other jumping cattle that occasionally jump over the fence. I sit on the terrace and drink a glass of Pertois-Moriset champagne, a trouvaille from the sommelier. I look over the perfectly mowed lawn and see an automatic mower emerge from the bushes and drive around like a toy car. So the gardeners don't do everything alone. Neither is Michelin chef Dennis van den Beld, but due to all the corona rules, the entire kitchen brigade is not allowed in the kitchen at the same time, so there is - as in all restaurants at the moment - a menu instead of à la carte. He personally serves us the ravioli with smoked cheese foam and the roe roasted in his own rosé gravy with apple, chioggia beetroot and candied onions. To get some exercise, there are hotel bicycles, a tennis court and a swimming pool. And if you have your own horses, they are very welcome in the stables. Many guests come here to ride horses and then sleep in the Manegehuis, the former stables that have now been converted into a spacious private villa for the whole family. With, if desired, a private chef at home. How corona-proof do you want it?
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