All petal and no heart, some might say. Few sights are sadder, on a Sunday afternoon, than a bucketful of red heads nodding in the fumes of a petrol station. Roses and orchids have captured the human imagination, too, but the tulip is the stiffest and most formal of them all: the long, rigid leaves, the tight shell of petals, the bold slash of colour.
It wasn't always so. When the first tulip bulb was imported into Holland in 1594, it had travelled from Asia through Turkey and Vienna. The Dutch called it a "tulp", and the name is supposed to have derived from the word for "turban". Growers began to buy bulbs infected with a "mosaic" virus. It produced striking patterns on the petals, but it was hard to predict when the effect would occur. By 1636 - thanks partly to an outbreak of plague in the Netherlands which historians believe encouraged speculation - the booming futures market in rare tulips meant that the most expensive bulbs could cost as much as a canal-side house in Amsterdam.
The following year, the bubble burst spectacularly. But Holland's love affair with the bulb persists. And nowhere is the cult of the tulip celebrated more lavishly than at Keukenhof, near Lisse.
The 80-acre park opens for just eight weeks each spring. (This year, it will close on May 20.) A couple of years ago, the gardeners planted a rose garden in the hope that Keukenhof could attract visitors in the summer, too: but those who did come asked: "Where are the tulips?" You will see other flowers, of course. But the heady little narcissi and the blindly nodding daffodils are a sideshow. The tulip is the star. Around 7m of them are planted each autumn in an extraordinary array of patterns and swaths of contrasting colour. Each bed is carefully marked with the name of the grower. They act, explained our guide, like calling cards.
The Japanese are particularly fond of Keukenhof. Perhaps the shared appreciation of the tulip stems from the fact that both countries prize the little land they have: "In Holland, every centimetre counts," the guide explained, pointing out an exquisite little show garden. Japanese visitors like to photograph themselves as close to the flowers as possible, and the grass suffers. Keukenhof plants a fresh layer of super-durable turf every year.
The park experiments with the odd grotesque piece of sculpture or giant aluminium tulip - this year, visitors will find an exhibit consisting of dozens of mauve and white plastic bags weighed down by sand, and a large number of upturned flowerpots - but the lines of pure colour, labelled Love Song, or Las Vegas, are the real draw.
The atmosphere at Keukenhof is pleasingly kitsch: there is something of the old-fashioned English seaside resort about the park, with its barrel-organ, the clock chiming "My Darling Clementine", and the rows of resting elderly visitors. There is a windmill, of course, and tulip-shaped lollipops for sale, and a children's farm with climbing frames and a very woolly lamb. Visitors are invited to climb into a rather large clog.
In short, Keukenhof is all good, healthy fun, but after a few hours you may find your body crying out for a little exercise. This is the perfect time to rent an old-fashioned bicycle from the hut next to Keukenhof and ride through the bulb fields towards the beach.
Anyone accustomed to Britain's patchy cycling network will find the routes around Noordwijkerhout a joy. Hills are a rarity, and the chief danger is not traffic (you will seldom find yourself being overtaken) but the risk of swerving into one of the dykes bordering the bulb fields. Mid to late April, when the fields are in bloom, is the best time to visit. The Dutch landscape is never spectacular, and the broad swaths of colour lend it a little brief glory.
The seaside town of Noordwijk, with its wide pub terraces facing the coast, is a good place to pause: the transparent windbreaks protect you from the gusts blowing in from the North Sea. Those fond of robust English beaches will feel at home here. Many of the Dutch are perfectly bilingual, darts are played in the pubs, and there is no shortage of beer.
There was just one thing I wanted to know. The French author Alexandre Dumas wrote a novella in 1850. Set in the Netherlands, it followed the attempts of a bulb-grower to produce a black tulip. Did Keukenhof have any black tulips? Or were they still a mythical flower? Annemarie Gerards, the marketing manager, smiled. "The black tulip is something we would like. But we can't have it yet."
Way to go
Ros Taylor flew to Amsterdam on Basiq Air. The airline has now switched flights to Rotterdam. Returns in early May cost from £56 including taxes. She stayed at the NH Hotel de Leeuwenhorst in Noordwijkerhout. Tickets to Keukenhof cost €12 (£7.90) for adults and €5.50 (£3.62) for children and can be booked in advance at Holland.com.
