"That Rotten Dike"

Far from the bustle and night life of the big cities, The Netherlands is still dotted with some of the world's dourest Calvinist communities. Among its grimmest is the former islet of Urk (pop. 5,500), a fishing village on the Zuider Zee. On Sundays, Urkers still separate their hens from the roosters, turn their paintings to the wall, read only one book (the Bible), take only one processional walk (to church). Doing anything else is sinful. For years life in Urk was pretty routine, and the town constable's daily report invariably read: "Nothing has happened." That was before Urk ceased to be an island.

Ten years ago a road was built on a dike that connected Urk to the mainland, and the 20th century began catching up with Urkers, especially the younger ones. Traditions began to change, especially the pleasant one of "public cuddling," in which young lovers hugged and squeezed each other on Friday and Saturday nights in Urk's 40O-yard-long main street, while around them a circle of shouting and laughing boys and girls teased the lovers ("Afterward," said one traditionalist, "the brides were properly led to the altar").

With the advent of short skirts, high heels and Dutch Teddy boys from the mainland, public cuddling became more basic. On one wild night last winter, 500 youngsters, many of them drunk, rioted on the main street. Pubs thereafter were ordered closed at 10 o'clock on Saturday nights. This ended neither the boozing nor the love-making on the dike. Last week Urk's irked elders cracked down. A new Urk law made it a crime to "trudge, slouch, lounge, saunter, flock together" or "to sit or lie" after dark along public roads. Maximum penalty: a fine of 300 guilders ($79) or two months in jail. Love-smitten Urkers hoped to get around the ban simply by taking to the woods on the mainland, a short bike ride away. Mourned one oldtimer: "Our world is turned upside down nowadays in Urk, and all because of that rotten dike."

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