The sun now rises around 7:15-7:20 in the morning. I get up around the same time. We now meet daily over tea. It’s a pity that the *real* sunrise happens beyond those buildings and cranes. Still, it’s breathtakingly beautiful on the days when the sky is clear or partly-cloudy. It’s much harder, though not impossible, to get a remarkable sunrise on an overcast day.
Just two of the hundreds of things that drift past our window every day:
A huge building was coming up on our left when we moved in here in April. From a crane that was unceremoniously parked in front of the river yesterday, it looks like that new construction is about to start on the other side as well. That would leave me with only a tiny window to compose and click these things from. In the race to the waterfont, our building must’ve ruined many views as well. In that regard, even the Amsterdam Centraal Station wasn’t very well received (courtesy Wikipedia):
Almost all of Amsterdam’s own experts and others involved in thought this to be a catastrophic plan, ‘the most disgusting possible attack on the beauty and glory of the capital’. Nevertheless, the building of the Central Station in front of the open harbour was forced through by the railway department of the Ministry of Transport in The Hague, and the Home Secretary, Thorbecke. Finally, the plan made its way through the Amsterdam municipal council by a narrow majority.
I’ll just add this event to my list of reasons to rent over buying.
The satellite map on the tiny screens on our plane’s screen didn’t show the river IJ. Our house faces it. In less than 4 months we’ve come from not knowing about the very existance of this large body of flowing water to loving it. While returning from work, I had seen blue GVB ferries cross the IJ and spew people on foot, people on bicycles and motorbikes and even people in tiny electric cars, near the north exit of Centraal station. I knew I had to get on one.
Me and my wife did some research online and on an idle weekend, boarded the ferry with the longest route. We kept looking for a place to swipe in our transport cards and didn’t find any. Once on the ferry, we tried to locate someone from whom we could buy the tickets. We eventually realized that the ferries are free – and for a good reason too – the longest ride lasts just 10-15 minutes.
Our first ferry ride was to NDSM Werf. While we knew that nothing that would interest tourists exists there, we found the reality starker than what we had expected. There were a few large (decidedly ugly) office buildings and this being a weekend they were all eerily quiet. The geek in me did get a little carried away looking at this map…
…but we found no sprawling shops selling any of these things.
We also ran into these houses made entirely out of shipping containers and wondered what it must be like to live in one:
We’d like to think ourselves as minimalists, but this is pushing it a bit too far even by our standards.
If you want a longer and faster ride in the water, you can take a ride to IJ Muiden in Connexion’s (the other public transport company here) Flying Fast Ferry. Unlike the GVB ferries it’s not free and costs about € 8.25 for a day return trip. The 60-80 Km/h ride takes about 40 minutes. Right next to the ferry’s docking station is a bus stop from where you can catch a Connexion bus to the beach. Unfortunately, we were there on a day when the strong winds kept blasting sand into our eyes and made it impossible for us to reach the beach. Having traveled this far, we weren’t to give up so easily. A few meters away from the beach, we ran into lake Kennemermeer. The tiny lake with its tiny waves looked like a miniature sea:
Nearby, at a mooring spot, hundreds of sailboats and yatchs were parked. They shook and creaked in the strong wind.
The tattered flag of a certain casino, ironically called Fair Play, fluttered violently in the wind – as if warning people of the ills of gambling.
Our next ferry trip – again in the free GVB Ferry – lasted barely 5 minutes and got us to IJplien. A short walk from here is the Noordwall (north wall?) – a low wall where you can sit with your feet dangling a few feet above the water and watch ducks, ships and other interesting thing pass you by. It’s very windy here on most days and the combination of wind and large ships works up waves that make quite some racket when they hit this wall. Not a bad use of your time on a warm, sunny, Sunday.
Train stations in Europe are magical places. Amsterdam Centraal station might not be as grand as some of the others in Europe, but it’s home. For me, it represents the thrill of starting a journey to a new place and the happiness of coming back home.
The tangle of wires outside the platform is actually a tablature score which only the trains know to play.
The stations in Belgium evoke Hades. Your train leaves daylight and enters a dark tunnel that eventually leads you to a platform where florescent lighting makes night out of day and day out of night.
Still I’ll remember Antwerp Centraal somewhat favourably for the beautiful architecture you encounter once you’ve taken long rides up the escalators.
Brussels Centraal unfortunately only reminds me of the 4-coloured dustbins all over the station.
Paris Gare Du Nord is a station that was meant to be a station. It isn’t there to make a statement, or for you to linger about – it is there for you to board a train. It probably exudes the same indifference with which the Parisians look at the world outside. Besides, the metro stations are the real magical domains in Paris.
