Brings out the red in my eyes...

Awake this morning, suddenly and wide, at 05:45, jetlag in effect.

Making the most of a sleepless situation, L and I walked through the park out back of the Nunnery at sunrise.








































There's no place in my neighborhood to get iced espresso before 07:30 since I no longer patronize the Boring Biscuit, so we walked back to the Nunnery and fell asleep watching Waking Life, which I guess is maybe a little ironic.

Between the pollen and the jetlag, I feel like I'm being repeatedly punched in the stomach, underwater.

Distressing dreams about people I no longer know but who inhabit me nonetheless, what's new with you?

Question of the day: how do you levy a tax on freeloading ghosts who insist on occupying your psychic real estate?

Liberty to Liberty, statue from bell...

Traveling...


































Three airports, two trains, a single shuttle, L's car, and endless walking to get from the hotel Kap back to the Nunnery:


















Traveling in this direction was much simpler; coming less fraught with obstacles than going.

My iPod was fritzy today, so I had no music on the 7ish hour flight back. Luckily, there was an on-demand video system with a few dozen movies to choose from, even though none of them were Solaris.

Josh and I saw Liberty Island and the Statue from above on the flight into Newark, a fitting final monument on this trip which has seen no shortage of liberty.

Independence, fear, and beautiful Dutch women were also in abundance, for sure. Good times, good times.

~~~~~~~

Much is made of the high degree of freedom found in the Netherlands which inevitably brings with it the potential for libertinage and unattractive excess. But the only people I saw abusing the (already very permissive) social code were foreigners, the most common unsocialized group being British males between the ages of 20 and 25. (They like to travel in large groups - it appears to help them "think".)

But the Dutch people proper, the indigenous Dutch, come across as modest and kind. They are naturally beautiful and warmly good-natured. There's something elflike about them.

~~~~~~~

And I am alive: Josh did not kill me! He has therefore, at least according to Nietzsche, made me stronger. Thank you Josh.

Margaritas and a very pleasant evening of reacclimatization with L. Awake until 01:30 which my body experiences as 07:30.

There have been many successes, many obstacles navigated. This vacation sometimes felt like riding a stubborn horse: you can tell it where you want to go, but it won't much matter. It's largely out of your hands. Tugging reins will be interpreted as suggestion at best, and no promises will be made. You will eventually get to B from A, but not without passing through both G and H first. About all you can do is sit comfortably and keep your eyes open.

1/5

Beethoven's Fifth (and its famed associations with Fate) sounded a complementary, contrapuntal note to the ongoing themes of Liberty and Independence, and was a poignant way for Josh and I to spend our final night in the Netherlands.

The orchestra was confident and loose, at least to my ears. They weren't wearing their professionalism on their collective sleeve, which I love.

And the Fifth wasn't morose and oh so earnest like you sometimes hear it. It was light, in keeping with the spirit of the Netherlands, and more of an exploration of Fate + Joy.

Good times.

Nijntje

We got tickets. We got very good tickets.

I've been to the Concertgebouw once before, a few years ago, on a self-guided tour. We weren't supposed to, but I managed to self-guide myself into the theater proper, which was cordoned off and officially verboden. It's a gorgeous hall. We may be in for a very musical experience...

A gift for L in appreciation for her determination in getting us here:


















~~~~~~~

Notes:

Holland is pungent.
Phil: I found a good Chinese watch.
Vlin: FYL indeed.

No. 12: Floreffe Tripel

After leaving the zoo aquarium, I rode up to the Dam to meet Josh and return the bike.


















From there we went to a bar I've enjoyed three times now:









































This is what they had on tap:























~~~~~~~

We're trying to get tickets to the Concertgebouw for tonight.

There's a performance of:

1. Webern's Im Sommerwind; followed by
2. five songs by Schubert (sung by baritone Thomas Quasthoff); and capped off with
3. Beethoven's Fifth Symphony.

All performed by the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, under the baton of Mariss Jansons.

But they're sold out.

We walked to the box office this morning and were told there may be tickets if we return at 17:00, so that's next.

The zoo!

I biked to the zoo today...



















where I saw countless impossible creatures which I have to assume the Dutch are creating with fossilized DNA. Or magic, which is evidently the case with the obscure creature above.


















I saw motherhood:






















There was an aquarium inside the zoo too:


















There was a polar bear there, who has maybe already begun to suspect that there's more to life:


















And there were penguins.


















Heh. Penguins are funny...


















The zoo lagoon:

Warm inside and empty

The headquarters for Heineken International is fourish blocks from the hotel. We sat in an empty bar across the street.

There have been many experiences here of entering spaces which are uncommonly beautiful. Perfectly set, warmly lit, not crowded...


















The Dutch recognize the importance of the proper use of coasters, a fact which makes me immensely happy. I have been tempted to restrict myself to giving only Dutch coasters as gifts to friends upon my return home.

Certain circles

Josh wants me write about how he hangs out here with me while I blog. But he wants me to write only about certain things while he's here hanging out, and not about other things. According to him what I should be writing about now is why I haven't assigned him a pseudonym like I have with everyone else. This has been covered, you'll remember.

There's a certain circular discussion on this topic which has recurred three times now.

Josh: But why, though? Why did you automatically give everyone else a different name or whatever? A pseudonym or whatever, and not me? Everyone gets one but me. Do you even know why?
Sabitathica: More or less.
Josh: Why don't you just call me J?
Sabitathica: I've told you that already.
Josh: Or JB or something.
Sabitathica: I already know people I call J and JB. I can't.
Josh: Or J dot B or something?
Sabitathica: No.
Josh: Why not?
Sabitathica: Because it's stupid.
Josh: Then use Bryant Evans then.
Sabitathica: What about the number thing? You seemed really big on that. Don't you want that anymore?
Josh: I don't know. I read your blog though. Don't fucking call me Fishsticks. What does that even mean anyway? That's stupid. That's more stupid than J dot B. Why did you use my real name in the first place anyway? Do you even know why? You don't, do you?

Den Haag: The City

Spent the rest of the afternoon exploring different areas of The Hague.






















































And got to see the Binnenhof.


















Strangely, there was a piano on a platform in the water...

Den Haag: Escher

Took a train this morning to The Hague. We went to the Escher Museum.


















Happily, we were able to take photos inside the museum.

Shoe bomb

Josh has not tried to kill me yet. Which isn't to say I'm completely at my ease. There have been threats of violence. For instance, here's an IM exchange from a few days before we came here:

Josh: I read your blog.
Sabitathica: uh oh.
Josh: Yeah, you're history pal.
Sabitathica: yeah, but now if I go missing, people will know who's to blame, so... heh.
Josh: I'm gonna take us both out.
Sabitathica: oh.
Josh: Two words.
Sabitathica: ?
Josh: Shoe bomb
Sabitathica: omg
Josh: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d1/Richard_reid.jpg

But since we've been in the Netherlands it's been things like this:

Josh: I should take a bike ride like that every day...
Sabitathica (probably engaged in an activity which doesn't involve listening to Josh too closely): Mmm hmm.
Josh: Or every other day, maybe.
Sabitathica: Good times, good times.
Josh: For a few years.
Sabitathica: And then what would happen? After a few years?
Josh: I'd be ready.
Sabitathica: (pause) For what?
Josh: For the apocalypse.
Sabitathica: Oh, good grief.
Josh: I want to be able to rip people's heads off with my bare hands and stuff. And crush their skulls. And I want to be able to turn their bones into weapons that I can use to kill everyone they know and cook their flesh and eat it and become even stronger.

So I think everything's going to be okay. He's absolutely got a thing about killing people in general - lots of people - but I don't think it has anything to do with me specifically.

All's well that ends well...

Lights, three different ones

We stopped in to a small restaurant with good lighting options




































before taking the obligatory clandestine photo of an alley of the red light district.

Tech suppport

Josh has expressed his disappointment at his inability to come to terms with his observation that, though I generally take care to protect the anonymity of almost everybody on this blog by assigning them a pseudonym, yet I have not done so with him.

And so I will soon encrypt his name. I suppose I'll have to change his name everywhere it appears here with a blogger search and destroy mission.

Here are the leading contenders for his new name:

1. Map Quest, or 'MQ'. He doesn't like this one.
2. Fishsticks. No abbreviation, just 'Fishsticks'. He doesn't know about this one yet.
3. Bryant Evans. The only name I have his explicit verbal consent to use, although he did say he'd be okay with anything, as long as it wasn't Map Quest, so things are wide open.
4. It should be said that he's twice brought up the idea of me using a number to represent him, so.

Maybe '6'...

~~~~~~~

We've been to the Van Gogh Museum this afternoon. The Potato Eaters was supposed to be Vincent's grim I Want to Hold Your Hand, but it didn't work out that way.

For starters he didn't have a Brian Epstein. And plus it's more like I Think I Might Want to Hold Your Hand But Everything Is So Utterly Depressing and Really and Truly Miserable and Besides I Can Barely Even See Your Hand It's So Goddamn Dark in Here So Maybe Let's Just Forget I Even Mentioned It. Oh, And Please Pass The Potatoes. Yeah, the Beatles were more, um, fun than early Van Gogh.

But you have to love him because his faults are all there, his whole process, not being covered up at all, like Syd Barrett on canvas.

Josh is right now with me in the hotel room improvising a story about me being in an insane asylum and him and some other people we know from where we grew up around Boston all coming to visit me. This event is prophesied to take place two years in the future. I have no idea why.

Rijksmuseum

Another train day, this time from Harlingen back to the hotel Kap, and in first class for a sweet change...


































After checking back into the hotel we patronized a restaurant which had been built around a carousel.

Back to the hotel Kap to recoup before walking to the Rijksmuseum, which was open, if you were wondering.























We had dinner with Christopher and Inette, two local characters of warmth and reputation. We enjoyed several large "extra cold" Heinekens, which are very strong here. Followed by still more beer at a little place with a DJ before the walk back to our ever so pleasant hotel room...

Terschelling

Saturday:

After breakfast we took a ferry across the Wadden Sea to Terschelling, an island off the coast of Harlingen.

Terschelling:



















We rented bikes and rode them the length of the island, as far as we could go. I knew there'd be a lot of bike riding on this trip and my plan, which involved not preparing for this in any way, came off beautifully...


















We found a beach on the shore of the North Sea, vast and desolate...
















Later we came across an area which upon inspection turned out to be riddled with old German bunkers from WWII. Location suggests German troops had anti-aircraft guns set here, watching western skies.














We met a Canadian couple who were born in the Netherlands. They'd been children during the war and told us stories about their experiences, including one about an uncle who'd lived on Terschelling and was "recruited" by the Germans to gather mines from the Sea.

This is another of the bunkers on the right:























Liberty, independence, and fear.

~~~~~~~

More biking...


















A very sweet cow I met...


















In the beginning of the middle of the bike ride, the road forked (isn't that always the way?). Just to be safe, I suggested we go left:


















On our ride back to the ferry we passed an old graveyard...









































We caught the ferry back to Harlingen, recovered our strength and prepared for yet another pub crawl... good times.

Harlingen!

This morning Josh and I took a tram to Centraal Station where we caught a train to another train through the heartland...































to yet another train, before finally arriving in Harlingen:
























































Harlingen!


















and checking in to our hotel.

Here's the view of the hotel terrace from our front door:


















We had a very good dinner before embarking on a bit of a pub crawl.