If this small photo set convinces you Holland is a lovely place, you’d be on to something. And because this blog deals with the more or less hazy nature of ‘home’ and whatever it means, let me just say this: the air smells . . .new. Untouched. As if I’m the very first person to breathe it. Emitted directly from a flower into my lungs. When the air doesn’t smell this way, it smells like horse shit or bonfires. Ah! Takes me back! Seriously – there is no better smell than that of wood burning outdoors.
Amsterdam is beautiful but too touristy. More than that, these particular tourists are annoying as fuck because they go around asking unassuming shopkeepers where they can score some weed. Have some tact, people! I’ve had the great fortune to stay with some friends in a small town called Vianen where things are small, quiet, quaint, authentic. Dutch houses, as you can plainly see, are drool-inducingly (hey! that’s a new word!) pretty. Tomorrow I pretend to be dutch by attempting to ride a bike from Vianen to Utrecht. It’s high time I pulled out my “day on the town” blazer. Gotta be lookin’ fresh.
I’ll be sad to move on from here, but such is life and such is travel.