Category Archives: Style

Biking around the countryside

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.

Diemerbos

On a rainy Sunday, I headed to explore this little forest, which I only recently discovered despite having lived in my current neighbourhood for the better part of a decade.

Koffie met appeltaartje was delightful despite the crowded restaurant, which I nibbled while sitting at the bar, as that was the only spot available.

It was loud with noise from the nearby motorway and railway tracks, but it was quiet and quaint. The damp weather elevated the saturated green grass tones, making it stand out against the muddy grounds.

These trees reminded me of Speulderbos – Forest of dancing trees. It also reminded me to consider getting back onto road biking, which I fell off seven years ago after that bike went missing.

It brings me great joy to see well-behaved dogs, off-leash, merrily exploring around, occasionally waiting for their owners to catch up to them.

Photographing dry reeds is always fun, and all appear just as same as they are different.

A bridge emerged from the foilage, and I had to go up for a peek.

It was a relaxed 45 walk, though the trails website described it as a 2-hour circuit. It is close if you were herding a few restless kids and a dog or two with every step you take.

Dark Foilage

It’s bright, it’s sunny, it’s green. The mood is not so. It’s been a challenging year of self-realization and acceptance or meagre attempts at it. However, after almost a year of hiatus, I picked up my camera with the intent of taking at least half a dozen pictures and post something. That is progress, a high point of the year so far.

Black and white just seems appropriately poetic to acknowledge the summer’s wildflower blossom, changing season and sombre feels of what looks like yet another lost year due to the-virus-that-shall-not-be-named

Making coffee

While I can’t imagine drinking anything other than a black-coffee, I sure am a sucker for pretty looking artsy milk-coffees, if only for taking their pictures. A friend bought a real coffee machine and I had to go check it out and take pictures of the process. Here is a small snapshot of it.

Summer escape

After being cooped up in the city for far too long than I am used to, as the travel restrictions started being eased my confidence in travel picked up. Just as a heatwave started engulfing the entire continent, a friend and I decided to make a break for the mountains.

As our plan to drive towards Denmark fell apart due to travel restrictions, on a streak of inspiration, we changed destinations towards the Chamonix and the French alps via Switzerland. In the same spirit of spontaneity, we ended up making another impromptu detour towards Lake Como in Italy before heading back.

The Bob Ross-esque view of the mountains with happy little trees blew me away after being stuck in the flat country for what seemed to be forever.

The trip also ticked off an item from my bucket list – to see the milky way with the naked eye and shoot it. At first, I had thought it was cloud formation; however, a quick reference proved otherwise. I suppose I have been living in cities for far too long.

As we neared our destination, the views just kept getting better and better. We were forced to make a stop and walk along-side the cold glacial melt and admire the hard work of driving 12 hours straight payoff.

The Chamonix Valley was just as beautiful as I had seen it 5 years ago

Making a detour into Italy was an expensive affair, as crossing Mont-Blanc Tunnel cost us more than twice the toll we paid for entire Switzerland and all its innumerable tunnels.

The change in landscape and the weather was nothing short of dramatic. Looking back towards the mountains we were leaving behind, the views just seemed so Ansel Adam-esque.

The mountains slowly receded to appear no more majestic than cardboard cutouts.

The sky was no longer studded with stars, but the wine and panoramic views were nothing we could complain about.

We got down our perch and moved towards Lake Como in hunt of a beach.

Coffee was in order before we could jump in. One of my regrets was forgetting to get some of that deliciousness back.

I was looking forward for my first ever open water swim.

After debating exploring more places, we decided to save on some time and money and just drive through the night, stopping only for fuel and restroom breaks.