Oranje you glad i didn’t say Holland? (1 sentence & 12 images)
Ah netherlands. That’s all. Along with france it would be the other country (so far) in Europe i’d happily buy a one way ticket to. I have but one sentence for the Netherlands.
Were it for the welcoming guitar playing stoners in Vondel Park, nearby the van Gogh museum, which in spite of its lack in size, overshadowed the mastery of the Rijks’ works and remained with me even as i wandered the keukenhof flower festival or the clog making tourist beacons of Zaanse Schans where windmills were rife and cheese was made and wrapped and sold from baskets and shelves whereas in Aalkmar there was the dramatic kaasmarkt in the centre of town where vendors yelled as the store owners peered ast weighing scales holding up large amounts of Maasdammer, goat’s, and of course gouda which i now realize is pronounced khawda rather than gooda after spending about 4 minutes trying to convince the bartender that i did indeed want a gooda sandwich regardless of whether or not he heard of such a thing considering it was written in chalk on the daily menu behind him just as there was one between me and one of the many canals as i enjoyed my sandwich with a beer watching as the people went by on their bicycles on their own, in a lined group, walking their dog, pushing their baby in a stroller ahead of them or even building a ship in a bottle they persevered and managed to avoid the hidden sculptures that were scattered about amsterdam or the many cracks that littered the cobblestone roads of Edam and Volendam where i came across the photoshop that i realized was the same one my parents visited decades earlier as their young faces posed in the studio’s signature shot which hung beside the tv back home but of course i didn’t need tv here going so far as to miss the final season deciding game of my team choosing instead to float about in a friend’s boat in the canals of Purmerend a fair bit outside Amsterdam and watching the people float about each other with nary a ripple offending the other and then checking the score in the newspaper the next morning as i melted into a freshly baked butter croissant not entirely aware that a month later the city would be erupting with celebrations after the oranje crushed france in the euro ’08 and i hugged more strangers that night than any other as we shook the city all night until the trains resumed service in the morning seeing as the buses were on strike though it’s not like anyone was complaining.
That is all.