Hot, humid, sultry, and sweaty; Noisy, crowded, busy, and bustling; And yet, efficient, modern, convenient, and comfortable. A 180-degree change from -2 C to 32 C was a shock, to say the very least. And to think I’ve spent the first half of my life in temperatures hotter than this, and yet unable to tolerate it anymore, was amusing.
The contrast of colors shook my soul awake. The juxtaposition of tradition ebbing in the architecture against the backdrop of the modern system and skyscrapers was exciting to see.
The sharp sun, coming in at an angle different from the northern hemisphere (i.e., none at this time of year), cast crisp, beautiful shadows on the streets and buildings.
Colors popped everywhere
Unlike what I remember from my visits to Tokyo, Shanghai, and New York, the abundance of greenery was a welcome departure. It caused a strange sense of deja vu that I just couldn’t pin down
A few days later, I was blessed with a welcome respite of rain. To say it rained is an understatement; it poured, nonstop, ironically bringing the humidity down.
Accidental discovery of Din Tai Fung, brought back memories of Hong Kong, where I first discovered it.
After nine years of owning a car, I’ve forgotten train journeys. While I’ve travelled further and farther, the places close by became unfamiliar, especially those that were too close by car and a bit too far to bike leisurely—which is pretty much most of the country beyond the city reaches.
It occurred to me that I’ve either passed by or barely passed through Haarlem almost always to get to either Zandvoort or the Bloemendaal beach. So, I set out to explore this tiny city/town and was not disappointed.
I got down at the station, which was vast and seemingly uncrowded.
The dissonance caused by architecture that felt quintessential and familiarly Dutch and yet truly unfamiliar, was striking
The city center filled me with a sense of calm a stark contrast to the bustling city of Amsterdam that I just left behind.
After walking for hours, I couldn’t shake the urge to go to the beach, which was just a stone’s throw away. I took the bus to Haarlem centraal and got onto a train to Zandvoort.
While the beach was deserted by the usual standards of its use, I turned out to be not the only crazy one to brave chilly and windy weather for a glimpse of the ocean.
Walking on an empty beach, soaking in the smell of the sea while washed over with wild winds, left my soul cleansed. The bubble around me, growing over the years, eroded away. The cloak fell down, my mind unbound, my soul unwound, and I felt free.
Standing tall as a sentinel is this residential building, which always evokes an urge to buy an apartment and become a hermit, living the rest of my days in solitude, staring at the sea. Alas, that is not for me; I need the company of people and the energy that comes from bit of the hustle & bustle of a city, or even a small town.
Watching surfer-boarders trying to catch waves and kite surfers taming the winds serves as a reminder that there is a more emphatic version of “being on the beach” than mine, which is relatively meek.
Sitting in an empty beach shack and sipping hot chocolate, watching the waves while away from the wind, was the icing on the evening I didn’t know I needed
The blobs of water bodies that are prominently visible on the map when you look at Amsterdam, which always seemed too inconvenient to drive and too distant to bike, somehow started feel closer the more I cycled around the country side.
Being curious about the eastern lakes and the nature areas I planned to ride along Spiegelplas, Ankeveensche plassen, Wijde Blik lakes. I spent half a day outdoors in the cold, biking almost 60km and it was a dream. Here are some pictures from the trip
Spiegelplas
Ankeveensche Plassen
Oud Loosdrecht
Nederlands Oorlogsgraf
Wijde Blik
Stopped by the bird watching hut (Vogelkijkhut) to eat lunch that I brought along
Stopping in Loenen aan de Vecht for a coffee and an appletaartje to warm up after a long cold day of riding with plenty more to go
The realization that I never thought of going beyond the confines of the city on my bike despite being at the edge of it astonished me. Being used to exploring new places with a car and knowing that I might have exhausted the possibilities for discovering new ones nearby after a decade, I lost my way in the art of getting lost. The subtitle of this blog was dedicated to the idea of travelling and getting lost and documenting them as I go along.
Capitalism has this effect where you feel an insatiable need that one purchase solves everything. In this case, it was a road bike. After all, that’s how I did it 10 years ago. This meant I also needed a bike computer. Ironically, it’s that purchase that made me realize that I don’t need a new bike, and my trusty 5-year-old e-bike was the perfect mode for exploring and getting lost – sweat-free.
The route I planned around windmills and old forts took me from Amsterdam and through Ankeveen -> Nederhorst den Berg -> Nigtevecht (or almost) -> Weesp -> and back.
First stop was the molen Hollandia. It popped out of nowhere and quite unexpectedly discovered a restaurant right beside it. It was both in the middle of nowhere and yet packed with families and friends enjoying the mid-day lunch and the sun.
Further ahead I passed through a really cute town of Ankeveen. The name had a very familiar ring to yet, yet one I’ve never paid attention to on a map despite it being less than 20kms away.
The landscape felt calm
And the houses quaint
Castle Nederhorst den Berg was the next landmark I passed, which seemed abandoned. My Dutch felt good enough to read the information displayed outside, which informed me first that it was privately owned and not open to the public. Secondly, to my amusement, it only allows couples living in the town to take wedding pictures.
At every single spot you’d consider pausing along the river Vecht, you are greeted with spectacularly calm views and soothing vibes.
The river crossing was apparently via a small electric ferry, which shut an hour earlier, leaving me stranded to take a detour that added 15 kilometers and an additional hour of the ride. With views like this, I couldn’t complain and welcomed the serendipity.
I was back near Nederhorst den Berg. At this particular moment, I was hit with a strange deja vu feeling, which I realized was more due to nostalgia than to memory of a specific spot I drove by in Scotland.
What do you call a collection of dwellings that are too small to even call a village? Thats the kind of place Hinderdam is.
The serene reflections were unbelievable.
As the sun sank lower in the sky, the golden hour unfolded upon the landscape
its colors and atmosphere building to a crescendo
culminating with buildings becoming striking silhouettes against this backdrop as I made my way home.
It’s incredible how much things can change in time. 16 years – that’s how long it’s been since my first encounter with Japanese – made particularly difficult to appreciate because I was unexpectedly forced to take it up at University. Since then, my feelings have changed; I might even call this trip to Japan a pilgrimage.
Here is a glimpse of my glimpses in broad strokes.
There are temples everywhere. I particularly enjoyed people watching those who come to pay their respects, pray, meditate.
The juxtaposition of tradition and modernity was everpresent in Japan
Food was everywhere, from conventional restaurants to…
all night convenience stores…
hole in the wall izakayas
Solo booths catering to lone patrons (which were a particular favourite of mine)
to street food stalls!
After 7 years of learning and making Tamagoyaki on my own, I finally got to try the real authentic version made in Japan. Belatedly, I’ve realised that I must add sweetness and umami when making it.
Vending machines are omnipresent, often accepting Passmo in most busy places, which made my life quite convenient. They serve hot and cold drinks differentiated by red and blue labels – I learnt that the hard way.
Vending machines serving groceries were of particular curiosity for me – that too in a metro station.
Japanese public transit is truly impressive! It’s hard not to be in awe of how convenient and unfailingly punctual it is.
Nobody talks on phone – that was so refreshing.
City streets bustling with traffic and people getting somewhere was everything I expected here.
The narrow streets were just as bustling with folks selling wares, restaurants along with foot traffic
Japanese-esque customisation of bikes everywhere made me reminisce about home in Amsterdam and a subtle reminder to use mine more often.
The golden hour & the sunset in the city caught me unawares as it went aglow.
Sunstreaks leaking through the buildings evoked a cinematic feel, making me wonder if life as I know it is all just metafiction.
The sun might set, but Tokyo truly never sleeps. In many ways, the city just woke up and it got busier.
An unassuming meeting point emerges in the refuge of trees amid the madness of Shibuya scramble crossing – the Hachiko statue. The story of Hachiko had a massive impact on me – it poked and prodded the grief in me and left me bawling the first time I read about it. If Japan was my pilgrimage, this was my temple.
Two worlds collide 200 meters from Tokyo station as the imperial palace gardens emerge – the traditional and modern – while in my mind the contrast felt like Shanghai and New York. On the final day of my trip to this city, I took to strolling this area.
Heat picked up and a stones throw away from the main station, I found refuge in the quiet streets
Old posters from my part of the world, sold as speciality items here made me chuckle.
Drip coffee is now my new favourite way to drink this beverage.
Trees awning over the streets with tall buildings poking up was reminiscent of my trip to New York.
With a sigh, I got a move on, onto my next destination Kyoto with the shinkansen.
