There are some Michigan towns that feel like they exist in their own little pocket dimension, and Holland is definitely one of them.
Between the tulips, the Dutch architecture, the windmills, the wooden shoes, and the aggressively cheerful amount of floral landscaping, it almost feels like someone dropped a tiny European village along Lake Michigan and said, “Good luck, everybody.”
Oddly enough, my first trip there barely counts.
Back in high school, we did a quick beach stop in Holland, but the only thing I actually remember is Taylor climbing around on the rocks near the water like she had a death wish. I remember standing there thinking, this is how the news stories start. Beyond that? Absolutely nothing. My brain wiped the entire trip except for the impending accidental drowning.
The real Holland experience came years later.
Tulip Time and Fashionably Late Decisions
In 2018, I finally made it to Tulip Time, which had been on my Michigan bucket list for years.
The problem with Tulip Time is that it lands during the first week of May, which in Michigan means the weather could either be:
- sunny and gorgeous,
- forty-two degrees with sideways rain,
- or a full betrayal.
That year was surprisingly decent. Still chilly, but manageable.
I went with my first husband, and we arrived fashionably late because apparently I approach festivals the same way I approach airports: with unnecessary confidence and poor timing.
Parking during Tulip Time is a nightmare that deserves its own psychological case study. Every side street looks full. Every lot has twenty cars circling it like vultures. Every pedestrian suddenly loses all survival instincts.
But once we finally made it downtown, it felt worth it.
The entire city transforms during Tulip Time. Millions of tulips bloom throughout the streets, parks, and sidewalks while people wander around in Dutch costumes and somehow look completely normal doing it. Holland leans fully into its identity, and honestly? I respect the commitment.
After wandering around town for awhile, we caught the parade. My favorite performance was the Petoskey Steel Drum Band because something about steel drums instantly makes everything feel happier. You could probably play steel drums during a tax audit and I’d still feel emotionally soothed.
Afterward, we grabbed food at New Holland Brewing – Pub on 8th before continuing to wander downtown.
Then we toured the Friends Good Will, which is one of the coolest hidden-history things I’ve stumbled into during a Michigan trip.
For anyone unfamiliar, the Friends Good Will is a replica of an early 1800s topsail sloop originally built in Michigan in 1810. The original ship carried cargo through the Great Lakes before getting swept into the War of 1812. At one point, the British captured it by flying false American colors near Mackinac Island, which honestly sounds like something straight out of a pirate movie. The ship was eventually recaptured by the Americans during the Battle of Lake Erie before later being destroyed during a British raid. The modern replica now travels around Michigan ports for educational tours and events, including Tulip Time.
Which means yes, technically, I spent part of my day climbing around a war-history boat after eating pub food and looking at flowers.
Very on brand for me, honestly.
The 2025 Parking Defeat
We didn’t make it back to Holland until 2025.
Originally, we tried going during Tulip Time with Dave, but parking was somehow even worse than I remembered. At some point, we collectively gave up and abandoned the mission entirely.
Which is how we ended up at Nelis’ Dutch Village instead.
And honestly? The chaos of that place kind of saved the trip.
Within a single visit:
- we watched a goat give birth,
- sampled cheese,
- and had to drag my oldest away from the carousel kicking and screaming like we were removing her from the only happiness she had ever known.
Parenthood really is just rotating between magical memories and hostage negotiations.
Nelis’ Dutch Village feels like stepping into a strange little storybook version of Michigan tourism. Part historical attraction, part petting zoo, part carnival energy. Somehow all of it works.
Windmills and Heat Intolerance
Because the first 2025 trip felt incomplete, we went back the following week with my mom.
This time we visited Windmill Island Gardens, which is genuinely beautiful but almost took us out physically.
I am incredibly heat intolerant, and my mom is currently battling menopause, which meant the two of us spent most of the visit looking like Victorian women dying of consumption.
Meanwhile:
- Ellie slept peacefully through the entire experience,
- Evie chased geese with the confidence of a tiny drunken park ranger,
- rode the carousel,
- and picked out little wooden shoes.
Children somehow operate on an entirely different temperature system than adults. They can survive ninety-degree weather, zero sleep, and half a granola bar while I’m one direct sunbeam away from seeing the afterlife.
Still, Windmill Island Gardens really is gorgeous. The centerpiece is De Zwaan, an authentic Dutch windmill that was brought over from the Netherlands. It’s the only functioning Dutch windmill imported into the United States.
And despite the near heat stroke, it ended up being one of those weirdly perfect family memories anyway.
The kind where you’re miserable during it but sentimental about it later.
Motherhood’s favorite little trick.
Until Next Time
We’re actually planning on going back again this Monday.
So if Holland somehow manages to hand us another bizarre side quest, near-death experience, or emotionally significant goose encounter, I’ll probably end up updating this blog again later.
At this point, Holland and I apparently have a recurring arrangement.
Leave a Reply